Page 28 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc

“She’s your mate, isn’t she?” Zral asked quietly.

The question knocked the air from my lungs. It put words to the feeling I’d been fighting since that first night in the ritual circle. The stirring in my chest whenever she was near, the aching desire to hold her, the instinct to protect her that overrode even my distrust of magic.

“No.” I denied it, but the word tasted like a lie.

“Bullshit.” Zral laughed. “Oh, this is rich. Everyone was sure you’d die alone clutching your preciousprinciples, and here you are, mooning over a human witch.”

“She’s not—” My snarl died in my throat. Maybe she was my mate. I couldn’t ignore how being with her felt like finding something I hadn’t known was missing. But— “She has no reason to stay now that her familiar is free. Her life is elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my fingers digging into the wooden table edge until it creaked in protest. She had no attachments now. She could go anywhere, do anything. “But she came here with a purpose, and that purpose is fulfilled.”

“And you?” Zral studied me with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Where do you belong?”

The question caught me off guard. I’d never truly belonged in Grimstone—always at the edges, always apart. Even before the exile, I was just my father’s shadow. The son who wasn’t good enough, the asshole who got along with no one. Now, I was the permanent reminder of traitor’s blood.

“I don’t know,” I said again, the words like gravel between my teeth.

“Maybe that’s what mates are for,” Zral offered, returning to his carving. “Finding what you truly need. Osen found his purpose as chief when Miranda came into his life. Torain found his voice through Carissa.”

“And what would I find with Hannah?” The question was barely a whisper.

“Freedom, maybe.” Zral shrugged. “From Coth. From the past. From all the shit you’ve been carrying that was never yours to begin with.”

Freedom. The word echoed through me, unfurling some tiny kernel of hope in my chest. Freedom to forge a path beyond duty and obligation. Freedom to explore what existed beyond the lines I’d blindly followed. Freedom to live.

Freedom to love.

“You’d be doing me a favor by getting on with it,” Zral continued, his tone lighter. “More females for me now that you and Torain are off the market.”

“I’m not off any market,” I growled automatically, but the protest sounded weak even to my own ears.

“No?” Zral arched an eyebrow. “Then why are you here, asking about a human witch you can’t stop thinking about?”

I glared at him for a beat. Two. He met my stare calmly, undeterred. I sighed, feeling some last dregs of resistance slip away.

A sudden commotion outside cut through our conversation. Shouts echoed across the square, followed by the distinctive clang of weapons.

Zral and I exchanged glances before moving as one toward the door. Outside, a crowd had gathered near the clan hall. Osen stood at the center, flanked by guards. And between them, struggling against their hold?—

“Traitor!” My father’s voice cut through the square like a blade. “Witch-lover!”

I froze mid-step, watching Coth struggle against the guards who held him. His clothes were singed, face streaked with soot. The acrid smell of smoke clung to him, mixing with something else—herbs and oils. Miranda’s scent.

“What have you done?” The words scraped my throat raw.

Osen stepped forward, fury etched into every line of his face. “Your father burned down Miranda’s workshop. Her entire supply of winter remedies, destroyed. He’s lucky she wasn’t there.”

The world tilted beneath my feet. Coth had crossed a line I never thought he’d touch. Destroying a clan member’s livelihood was bad enough, but to target the chief’s mate...

“Suffer not a witch to live!” Coth spat on the ground. “She has poisoned our chief’s mind, turned him against his own kind! She’s destroying everything we stand for!”

“The only poison here is your hatred,” Osen growled. “You’ll rot in the mountain cells for this.”

I stalked forward, each step heavier than the last. Coth’s face lit with savage triumph, clearly believing I was coming to his defense.

“What did you think would happen?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “That burning her thingswould drive her away? That Osen would suddenly see things your way?”

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