Page 3 of The War God's Woman

I wonder if he truly believes this “alliance” will hold. If so, what does that mean for me? Orc culture is a fog to me—dark, impenetrable. They worship the War God, that much I know.Rumor has it the War God demands constant tribute in blood, but even my people’s knowledge of such rituals is laced with speculation and fear.

Sighing, I pace the room. My gaze snags on a wooden chest set near the bed. Curiosity licks at me, but I have a feeling it might be empty or contain items specifically placed for my use. Could it be a test? I press my palm against the rough wood. It creaks open, revealing a neatly folded set of clothes—an orcish tunic and leather leggings, from the look of them—and a pair of worn but sturdy boots. Practical, indeed.

A flood of relief and discomfort mingles in me. They’re treating me more like a guest than a hostage—at least for now.

I sink onto the edge of the bed. The straw mattress gives slightly under my weight. My mind drifts back to the chieftain’s face, etched with scars and intensity. Ghorzag Stormborn. That name alone sounds like a thunderclap.

The door latch scrapes, and I jolt. A timid knock follows. “May I come in?” comes a quiet, low voice.

I stand quickly, trying to gather myself. “Yes, of course.”

The door opens to reveal a young orc—maybe not much older than me—carrying a wooden tray. Steam rises from a clay bowl of stew, and beside it are thick slices of dark bread. He wears a simple leather vest and has wide, curious eyes.

“I—I brought your meal,” he says. He steps inside and awkwardly closes the door behind him.

“Thank you,” I manage, stepping forward to take the tray from him. Our fingers brush, and he flinches as though scalded.

An uneasy silence stretches between us. Finally, he clears his throat. “I’m Tozu. I help the cooks. The chieftain said you were to be offered the same fare as the warriors.” He glances at the stew, lips twitching in a quick half-smile. “It’s… gamey, but filling.”

“Thank you, Tozu,” I repeat, carefully setting the tray on a small table near the fireplace. I can feel his gaze roaming over me, not in a lecherous way, but with blatant curiosity.

“You’re really… human.” He shrugs, as if to say,Well, that’s obvious, but it’s new to me.

I nod. “I am.”

He fidgets, clearly torn between politeness and interest. “Is it true you’re to mate with our chieftain?”

Warmth creeps up my neck again. “That’s… what they’ve said.” I manage to keep my voice steady, though a million emotions clash inside my chest.

Tozu nods as if I’ve confirmed a rumor. “Some in the clan think it’s bad luck. They say you’ll bring the War God’s wrath.” A flicker of concern crosses his face, like he isn’t sure if he believes it.

My shoulders sag. “I’ve heard that, too.”

He studies me for a moment, then takes a step back. “If you need anything… well, maybe ask one of the guards. But you can ask me, too, if you see me around the kitchens.” He turns as if to leave, then pauses. “And, um, don’t take it personally. Orcs can be mean as a hedgehog’s backside when they’re uncertain. And everyone’s uncertain right now.”

“Thank you,” I say again, forcing a small smile. The kindness in his voice reminds me that orcs aren’t a monolith of hatred. “I appreciate it.”

He ducks his head awkwardly, then leaves the room. The latch scrapes once more, locking me in.

Alone again, I exhale slowly. My gaze falls on the steaming stew, and my stomach rumbles. The aroma isn’t terrible—earthy, rich, with a hint of spice. I realize I’m ravenous. Carefully, I taste a spoonful, half expecting it to be bitter or inedible. To my surprise, it’s quite good. Savory with chunks of meat andvegetables I don’t recognize. I tear off a piece of dark bread and dip it into the broth.

As I eat, my eyes dart around the small chamber. The orcs have placed furs on the floor to soften the stone’s chill. Heavy curtains can be drawn over the small window, sealing in warmth. Compared to the cramped huts of my village, this isn’t so bad—if only it weren’t for the thick iron bars across the window. That grim reminder makes my meal taste less satisfying, but I force myself to eat anyway. Strength, after all, will be crucial in the coming days.

“What now?” I wonder. I have no illusions that I’ll simply talk my way into acceptance here. I might have to prove my worth, somehow. Orcs respect strength—both physical and mental. My father’s stories come back to me once more, about orcish cunning and prowess in battle. If I can’t match them in combat, perhaps I can show courage in other ways.

“Peace is possible,” I murmur, pushing aside the half-finished bowl. “It has to be.”

My voice rings hollow in the empty chamber. But even as I say those words, memories of the orc raids on our village flicker in my mind—homes burned, farmland trampled, neighbors cowering. Back then, I’d hated them all, convinced they were nothing more than bloodthirsty monsters. Now, I’m betrothed—of sorts—to their leader. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I imagine what that actually means. The world feels like it has flipped upside down.

The flicker of the fireplace lulls me, and the exhaustion of my long journey finally begins to settle in. But sleep seems impossible. Instead, I rise and move to the narrow window. I press my fingers against the iron bars and peer outside.

Night has fallen fully. The courtyard below glows with torches, lighting the silhouettes of orc guards patrolling the perimeter. Their guttural voices float up in half-heard snatches.Beyond the walls, distant mountains crown the horizon, their peaks rimed with moonlit snow. It’s bleak, desolate—beautiful in a raw, untamed way.

The open sky reminds me of the farmland back home, how I’d stare at the stars on quiet nights with my sister or slip into the orchard behind our house to watch fireflies dance among the apple blossoms. I ache with longing. Would I ever see home again?If there’s peace, I might, I tell myself fiercely.

But then comes the doubt. Peace demands acceptance—acceptance of me by the orcs, acceptance of them by my people. The gulf between our worlds feels immense.

I let out a shuddering breath. Tomorrow, presumably, I’ll meet with Ghorzag again, or at least someone who can explain what’s expected of me. The wedding? The formalities Karzug mentioned? My mind reels. I’m in a precarious position; too many things can go wrong.

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