Page 38 of The War God's Woman

Her jaw sets in a mix of resolve and fear. “And if we discover sabotage is behind the clan’s misfortunes? Will that be enough to prove me innocent?”

I exhale. “I hope so. The clan is desperate for a sign. A pilgrimage could either quell their fears or confirm them, in their eyes.”

She rises slowly, the wooden box shifting as she brushes the dirt from her hands. “What if something goes wrong, Ghorzag? If your cousin or his followers sabotage the pilgrimage?”

A muscle in my neck twitches. “We’ll be prepared. I’ve selected orcs who are loyal to me.” I pause, stepping closer, myvoice dropping. “I’ll stand between you and every threat. We’ll see this through.”

Her eyes search mine, doubt flickering. Then she nods, a trembling sigh escaping. “All right. When do we leave?”

“The day after tomorrow,” I say, mindful of how short the timeline is. “Pack enough to keep you warm at night. The mountains can be cruel.”

She nods again, turning her gaze to the horizon. She’s afraid, I realize, seeing the tightness in her features. But she’s still standing here, ready to go. I reach out, letting my hand brush hers lightly, a fleeting touch. Her fingers curl against my palm in silent acknowledgment.

Neither of us says anything else. Words feel woefully inadequate to address the swirling chaos we face—Gaurbod’s looming betrayal, the clan’s suspicion, and our own fragile relationship. After a long moment, she pulls away, returning to her herb box as if organizing something mundane could steady her whirling mind.

“I’ll be ready,” she whispers.

I incline my head. “I trust you.”

With that, I leave, the sense of unstoppable momentum building in my chest. The clan will have its pilgrimage. If the War God doesn’t answer as they hope, or if sabotage rears its head again… everything might come crashing down.

The rest of the day passes in a fevered blur. Karzug updates me on supply inventories—dried meats, hardtack bread, medicinal herbs, and water skins carefully stored. The night patrol doubles as watchers scout for any hint of Gaurbod’s men tampering with gear. Some of my chosen warriors question why we keep the pilgrimage group small, but I insist that fewer bodies mean fewer potential traitors in our midst.

Ragzuk corners me in the courtyard near dusk, his weathered face pinched with concern. “The War God’s priests plan toperform a sending-off ritual at dawn,” he informs me. “They’ll ask for the War God’s guidance on your journey. No small irony, given half of them blame your bride for these troubles.”

I snort, exhausted. “Let them do their ritual. So long as it doesn’t impede our departure. We can’t afford delays.”

He nods. “Just be wary. They’ll want Lirienne to bow in supplication—some form of public humility that proves she accepts the War God’s authority.”

My tusks grind together in frustration. “They want her on her knees to appease their pride.” The image sparks a fierce protective impulse. “I won’t force her to humiliate herself.”

Ragzuk grimaces. “That might anger them more.”

I wave him off, a headache pulsing at my temples. “She’s done nothing to deserve humiliation. If they want a sign of humility, I’ll stand with her. But I won’t let them degrade her in front of the clan.”

Ragzuk inclines his head, respect in his eyes. “May the War God guide your steps, Chieftain.”

He turns to go, leaving me alone to wrestle with the knowledge that not only Gaurbod and his minions threaten us, but the priests themselves might push Lirienne into a corner.One step at a time, I remind myself.Survive the send-off, travel the mountains, reach the temple. Then hope the War God or common sense reveals the truth.

As the moon rises over the fortress, silvering the stone walls, I stand atop the ramparts, hands gripping the cold merlons. Torchlight flickers along the battlements, orcs patrolling with tense shoulders.They’re all afraid, I realize, scanning the yard below. Fear of curses, fear of sabotage, fear that everything we’ve built might collapse.

My mind drifts to Lirienne. The memory of our night together—raw emotion, unbridled desire—runs like an undercurrent through my every thought. That intimacy onlyheightens my determination to protect her, to prove she isn’t the cause of this chaos. But is that my personal resolve or my chieftain’s duty? The line blurs.

“Ghorzag?” a soft voice calls from behind.

I turn to see Karzug again, concern etched into his features. “All is set for tomorrow’s final errands. We depart at dawn the next day,” he says.

I nod. “Good.”

He hesitates. “Chieftain, are you… sure about bringing Lirienne? If the War God rejects her publicly, or if someone orchestrates an accident…”

“I’m sure,” I growl, sharper than intended. Then I soften my tone. “We have no choice if we want to quell the clan’s suspicions. She must accompany me.”

Karzug nods slowly, scanning the horizon. “The clan’s mood is a tinderbox. One spark could set everything aflame.” He casts me a sidelong glance. “Just… be careful, Ghorzag. We follow you, but if half the clan rebels, we’ll be outnumbered.”

I exhale. “Let them try. We’ll stand for what’s right, or we’ll fall. Better that than letting false fear rule.”

A ghost of a smile tugs at Karzug’s lips. “Spoken like your father, in his younger days.”

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