Page 74 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“Depends on the quality. Common humans would require dozens. But orcs…” Lasseran’s smile returned, razor sharp. “Orcs carry the curse already. Their life force is steeped in the very magic I’m trying to control. Using them as sacrifices will be far more efficient.”
It took a moment for the words to register.
Orcs. He’s going to sacrifice orcs.
“The wild ones of Norhaven are too far away,” Lasseran continued. “And too likely to trigger unwanted attention from King Ulric. But I have orcs here in the palace. Trained. Obedient. Perfect for this purpose.”
No. No!
“You mean?—”
“Some of the Beast Warriors, yes. They were raised alongside you and taught the same lessons. They should be willing enough.” Lasseran spoke with breathtaking casualness. “I’ll need about four for the ritual, perhaps six. More if we want to be certain of success.”
He couldn’t breathe.
The training halls. The brutal years of conditioning. Any bond between them had been ruthlessly discouraged, but the other Beast Warriors were his brothers, not by blood but by shared trauma. They were the only other ones who understood what it meant to be raised as a weapon.
“They’ve served you faithfully.”
“Yes. And now they’ll serve me in a different way.” Lasseran moved to his desk. Picked up a glass of wine. “Really, it’s an honor. To be part of something greater than themselves. To help usher in a new era of power and control.”
“An honor to die?”
The words came out before he could stop them, and Lasseran’s eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
“No, High King. I only?—”
“You only what? Think you have a say in how I use my resources?” Lasseran set the wine down with exact precision. “Those orcs belong to me, Khorrek. Just as you belong to me. I created you. I fed you and trained you. Everything you are exists because I allowed it.”
The truth of it threatened to suffocate him.
“I understand.”
“Do you? Because you seem upset.” Lasseran studied him with clinical interest. “Tell me. Do you care about these orcs? These brothers of yours?”
It was a trap. Admit he cared, and Lasseran would use it as a weakness, another lever to control him. Deny it, and he’d be admitting he was exactly the empty thing they’d tried to make him.
“They’re loyal soldiers.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Khorrek met those pale, empty eyes.
“I recognize their value to your forces.”
“Their value is whatever I decide it is. Right now, I’ve decided they’re worth more as sacrifices than as soldiers.” Lasseran picked up his wine again, and sipped delicately. “The ritual will take place at the next full moon—the Blood Moon two weeks from now. I’ll need you to select the ones to be used.”
The room spun.
“Select them?”
“You know them best. You know their strengths and weaknesses. Choose the ones whose loss will be least disruptive to my remaining forces.”
Choose which of my brothers die.
His Beast roared, demanding blood. He wanted to tear Lasseran apart, but the conditioning held. Thirty-five years of obedience wrapped around his throat like an iron chain.
“I…” His voice failed.
