Page 40 of The War God's Woman

Silence falls, thick with hostility. He stands protectively in front of Rakan’s lifeless form, shoulders squared. “We do not know what happened yet. And you will not lay blame at Lirienne’s feet without proof.”

One orc scoffs. “Proof? She’s the only new factor in our midst. Ever since she arrived, death and ruin follow. That’s all the proof I need.”

A roar of agreement rises, fueling the tension. My heart pounds like a war drum in my ears. I glance at Ghorzag, desperate for a sign of confidence, but the flicker in his eyes is unreadable—frustration, anger, sorrow, all swirling together.

From the peripheral view of my eyesight, I see Gaurbod stepping into view, arms folded across his chest, an eerie calm in his expression. He doesn’t shout with the rest. He doesn’t need to—he’s already sown enough seeds of doubt. The crowd’s fury turns into a tempest, and we both know it.

“Chieftain,” comes a booming voice from an elder near the front, “this is the final omen. The War God punishes us for your refusal to cast out the curse. The clan demands justice!”

A wave of shouting erupts, several orcs brandishing weapons. “Exile her!” they cry, while others snarl, “Spill her blood for the War God!” My stomach churns, dizzy with terror. They want me dead right here, right now.

Ghorzag lifts both arms, commanding silence. It takes longer this time for the crowd to obey. When their yells finally subside, he turns, gaze locking on me. In the dancing torchlight, I see the tension in his face, the faint tremor in his jaw. My breath catches.He’s hurting too, but… is he doubting me?

He takes a step forward, placing a broad hand on my shoulder. The crowd stirs at the intimate gesture, interpreting it in a myriad of ways. “We stand on the eve of our pilgrimage,”Ghorzag says, voice resonating through the yard. “We’ll seek the War God’s verdict on Lirienne. Until then, no one raises a blade against her.”

Several orcs spit or mutter curses. A handful seem relieved by his command. But the majority glares, voices filled with wrathful suspicion. Gaurbod, standing at the back, smirks coldly, as if seeing his plan unfold.

One of the younger warriors points accusingly. “What about the youth we lost? Is that price worthless to you, Chieftain?”

A furious snarl escapes Ghorzag’s lips. “Rakan was my kin as well, all orcs are. His death will be avenged—but not by shedding innocent blood.” He turns abruptly, jerking his head at Karzug. “Remove the body. We’ll examine it more closely for signs of poison or other foul play.”

Karzug hurries to comply, while the crowd grudgingly steps aside. A hush settles, thick as tar, as Rakan’s body is lifted away. My heart shatters at the sight of that young orc, so full of potential, now lost to this madness.Why must everything revolve around me?

Ghorzag’s hand slides off my shoulder, the weight of it vanishing along with any sense of security. In that fleeting moment, I glimpse something dark in his eyes—disappointment, sorrow, perhaps at the clan’s unstoppable rage or the fact that we keep stumbling from one tragedy to another. I swallow hard, tears stinging my eyes.He doesn’t blame me… does he?

But how could he not? The entire clan demands my head. If he shows any sign of doubt, that swirling tide of fury will swallow us both.

The crowd disperses slowly, grudgingly, each orc casting me hateful or fearful looks. I stand there, trembling, as though the ground under my feet might dissolve at any moment. Rakan’s death hammers home just how powerless I am to stop this avalanche of suspicion.

I see Gaurbod linger near the courtyard exit, watching me with hooded eyes. There’s no triumph on his face, only quiet calculation. A chill races down my spine.He’s waiting for me to break.

Only Ghorzag and I remain in the flickering torchlight. He turns, arms folded, expression shuttered. The tension rolls off him in waves.

My chest feels hollow. “Ghorzag,” I venture, voice scarcely more than a whisper. “You don’t believe them, do you?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, a pained sigh escaping. “No.” Yet the single syllable rings hollow, not entirely convincing. He opens his eyes, revealing flickers of anguish. “But the clan’s fear weighs heavily. Another death, right before we depart… it’s the worst omen possible in their eyes.”

My lips tremble. “I want to help them, not hurt them,” I say, voice breaking at the end. “Everything I do, it’s never enough. Now a child is dead.” I swallow, tears threatening. “I feel like I’m—like I’m poison to your clan.”

He inhales sharply. “Don’t say that. The sabotage?—”

“What if it’s not sabotage?” I interrupt, the question bursting from me unbidden. Fear has twisted logic into doubt, gnawing at my sanity. “What if—somehow—the War God is punishing your people for harboring me? Wouldn’t the sabotage be easier to stage than all these vile curses? Maybe… maybe Iamthe problem.”

He reaches for me, large hands clamping on my shoulders. “You can’t believe that,” he growls, eyes dark. “I refuse to.”

A half-sob escapes me. “The clan sees me as a curse. Another young life stolen. If I go through with this pilgrimage, and the War God condemns me…” I trail off, shuddering. “I don’t want to drag you into a revolt, Ghorzag. They’ll tear you apart for defending me.”

His grip tightens, tusks bared. “Stop. I’ll handle my clan. The War God’s temple will prove your innocence.”

A bitter laugh catches in my throat, tears burning hot. “How can you be so sure?”

For a heartbeat, his resolve wavers, the storm in his eyes betraying uncertainty. Then he steadies himself, releasing me. “We have no other choice,” he says quietly. “Don’t break now, Lirienne. We leave at dawn, and once the War God sees the truth, we’ll quell this madness.”

I bow my head, tears slipping unheeded down my cheeks. “And if the War God remains silent?”

He says nothing, and that silence is answer enough.All is lost if we can’t prove sabotage. Even Ghorzag’s fierce loyalty might not withstand the clan’s fury forever.

After Ghorzag leaves—summoned by Karzug to inspect Rakan’s body for any clue of foul play—I wander the courtyard in a daze. The flaming torches stab the darkness like angry tongues, revealing orc warriors scowling in every corner. No matter which way I turn, someone glares at me.

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