Page 9 of The Iron Oath
The three of them straightened to their full height. The twin suns’ rays were beaming down on them. They would not be shown an ounce of mercy.
Xul met her gaze head-on, but it didn’t last for long. There was much potential in him, but he had a lot to learn. Olaf and Dake both cast their gazes to the ground. Magoza rested her hands on her waist. The sounds of chatter from the warriors was a low hum as their discussions began on who would be the last one standing.
Magoza had purposely chosen for the loser to face her. If she had chosen the winner, then none of them would want to win, but to be the loser—who would face her—they would be desperate to win so they wouldn’t have to fight her.
“May the best male lose.” Magoza smirked.
The fight between the three was surprisingly decent. Magoza strode up the dirt path to stand next to her sister. Nargol hadn’t tried to interrupt her or change her mind. Her sister was in agreement that they must be made an example of. Plus her warriors thrived off battles. Shouts and growls filled the air as they clamored to see the three males battle.
As she suspected, they had been desperate to not be the loser.
The three fought it out until there was only one loser.
Olaf.
When Magoza entered the pit again, silence fell. She pulled out only one of her twin axes. Her eyes narrowed on the warrior. Their words regarding the tuskless beauty echoed in her head.
Magoza did not hold back.
“Where are you headed?” Nargol’s voice broke through Magoza’s memories.
They turned the corner, and the scent of freshly baked bread assaulted her senses. Magoza stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten her morning meal.
“The kitchen,” Magoza snapped. She was on a mission. She would snag a bite to eat, but she needed to speak with the cooks. According to the three wounded warriors, the cooks may know where to find the beauty.
Magoza was determined to seek her out. Thoughts of her had filled Magoza’s mind, and she had to know who she was. She couldn’t sleep; her skin crawled with the thought that the femalecould be out there somewhere unprotected. She’d been unsettled the entire night, and the need to find her weighed heavy on her.
Half-breed or not, she was beautiful and was probably mated off.
Magoza practically snarled at the thought.
“Ah, I’m hungry as well. Nothing like going directly to the cooks to grab the first portions.” Nargol chuckled.
Magoza didn’t say a word. They arrived at the kitchen were the staff entered. She barged in and scanned the room. It was bustling with workers scurrying around. Orders were being barked at as if they were warriors on the battlefield. Her gaze landed on the head cook, Fodor. He had been running the kitchen of Angarth for decades. He was legendary when it came to his meals and recipes. Even her father and mother did not impose on his turf. The kitchen was his domain, and they trusted him to run it.
Her sister headed over to where the bakers were working while Magoza beelined it to Fodor.
“Orra, Fodor,” Magoza greeted the esteemed chef.
Fodor was a graceful seven-foot orc whose hands had produced some of the best meals she had even had the privilege to eat. His dark hair was pulled up into a tight bun on top of his head. She had always been surprised someone with his size and physique had ended up here in the kitchens.
“I said now!” he growled at a servant.
The poor orc snatched up the silver pan of food and rushed away. Fodor swung around toward Magoza, his frown immediately disappearing once his gaze took her in. He straightened to his full height and bowed his head to her while his fist slammed against his chest over his heart.
“Commander. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I need information.” She folded her arms in front of her.
His eyebrows rose high at her declaration. Interest appeared in his dark eyes. It wasn’t often that a commander would seek out the head chef for information. This was an odd request, but he may know where she could find the tuskless beauty.
“I’m not sure how I can help you. Are you seeking the secret ingredient to my chunky qumte stew?” His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. He barked a hefty laugh and slapped his leg. “You are not the first to come down here asking. I’m not telling. That recipe was passed down from my father, and his father gave it to him, and his father gave it to him.”
Magoza bit back a chuckle. She remembered the stew he had prepared a few days ago. It had been all the talk over the stronghold. She’d had three servings and even leftovers for breakfast the next day. It had been a hearty meal with delicious spices, vegetables, and meat.
“I wouldn’t dare ask for your family secrets. That is something you hold on dearly to. Just make sure you pass it on to your son,” she replied with a smile.
“No doubt. He’s a wee babe right now. Just cut his first tooth, but when he’s old enough to hold a knife, he’ll be right here in the kitchen at my side,” Fodor boasted with pride. The big orc’s grin stretched from ear to ear. He and his mate had just welcomed their first bundle of joy about six months ago. His smile slowly disappeared. “If not my recipe, then what information can I provide you, Commander?”
