Page 16 of Agor the Merciless (Orc Mates #10)

Zoe crawled to the center of the bed, clutching the clay jar to her chest. Her hands shook as she pressed it between her knees to steady it and twist the lid.

The top came loose, and the familiar scent drifted up, fresh and earthy.

She couldn’t say what it was, but her body recognized it immediately.

She was about to dip two fingers in it when a voice stopped her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Zoe looked up. A slender figure stood at the entrance, having pulled the curtain aside. Lyra the Mage stepped into the chamber, her blue robes brushing the stone floor.

“That mixture is not meant to be used without supervision.”

“Get out.” Zoe hunched over the jar, protecting it with her body. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It concerns the whole horde when the captain’s mate steals from him.” Lyra moved closer.

“I didn’t steal anything. It’s mine, too.”

Zoe tried to scoop some cream onto her fingers, but Lyra was suddenly beside her, kneeling on the edge of the furs.

The mage reached out and took the jar from Zoe.

Zoe didn’t fight her. She wanted to, but she didn’t have it in her anymore.

Her strength drained away at the female orc’s accidental touch as she pried the jar from her hands.

“Please,” she whispered. “I need it.”

Lyra set the jar aside and examined Zoe’s face. She touched Zoe’s forehead, then checked her pulse at the wrist.

“Your skin is hot. Your heart beats too fast.”

Tears formed in Zoe’s eyes as shame replaced the desperate need. She tried to turn away, but Lyra held her wrist firmly.

“The salve was never meant for humans,” Lyra said. “It contains magic developed for orc females.”

Zoe shook her head. “It helps me. It takes away the pain.”

“It causes the pain, too.” Lyra released her wrist and sat back on her heels. “The relief only comes because the potion itself creates the need for more.”

“That’s not true.” Zoe wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Agor needs it, too. He gets something from it.”

“The captain controls his desires, the magic doesn’t control him.” Lyra picked up the jar and replaced the lid. “But it controls you.”

Zoe stared at the container in the mage’s hands, her fingers twitching with the urge to grab it back.

“How would you know?”

“Because I brewed it.” Lyra placed the jar on the stone floor beside the bed, completely out of reach. “And because I’ve watched you these past weeks.”

Zoe hugged herself as a shiver ran through her body despite the sweat on her brow.

“I just like how it feels, that’s all.”

“This isn’t your desire talking, Zoe. It’s the spell’s.” Lyra gestured to Zoe’s trembling hands. “The magic is consuming you, twisting what you truly want into a need for more.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know the human female who first arrived here would never beg for pain.” Lyra’s eyes held no judgment, only concern. “I know she wouldn’t follow a male around camp like a lost child. I know she wouldn’t steal or lie, or hurt herself for a jar of cream.”

Zoe couldn’t argue with that. She opened her mouth and closed it when she realized she had no defense. When had she become this person? When had she started caring more about the balm than about her own dignity?

“What’s happening to me?”

“The magic in the mixture binds to orc blood differently than to human blood.” Lyra reached for her bag and pulled out a small wooden cup. “For orcs, it creates a pleasant warmth that fades within hours. For humans, it burns hotter and longer, creating a dependency that grows with each use.”

Zoe watched as Lyra poured water from a skin into the cup, then added a pinch of dried leaves from a pouch at her belt.

“Will it kill me?” she asked. Because there were truly moments when she felt like she was dying.

“Not directly.” Lyra stirred the mixture with her finger. “But it will drive you to desperate acts until you harm yourself or others.”

“That’s already happening, isn’t it?”

The mage nodded and offered her the cup. “Drink this. It will ease the symptoms for now.”

Zoe took the cup but didn’t drink.

“What if I don’t want to stop? What if I’m willing to pay the price?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not thinking clearly.” Lyra took it upon herself to guide the cup to Zoe’s lips. “Drink first, then we will talk about solutions.”

The liquid tasted bitter but not unpleasant. Zoe finished it in three swallows, then handed the empty cup back to Lyra.

“I knew something was wrong with the remedy,” the mage said. “I saw the signs in your behavior, but I waited too long to intervene.”

“Does Agor know?” The thought of him knowing about her addiction and not doing anything made Zoe’s stomach twist. But she was getting ahead of herself. He would do nothing to harm her. He’d promised!

“He suspects something is wrong, but he doesn’t understand the cause. The captain chose you for your strength. It troubles him to see you reduced to this state.”

“Reduced? I’m not reduced. I’m…” She stopped, unable to find words that weren’t lies.

“You were a woman who fixed broken things. Now you are the broken thing.”

Zoe stared at the floor, her shoulders dropping.

The herbs in Lyra’s drink began to dull her aching need, leaving an empty space in its place.

She didn’t like what the mage had just said.

As if it was her fault she was a broken thing.

Not that Lyra had said it accusatorily, but it still sounded wrong.

What the fuck were she and the captain thinking giving her a magic cream that wasn’t meant for humans? How was she, Zoe, supposed to know?

Lyra stood and gathered her bag.

“I will send Pira the Forager to stay with you. She has herbs that will stop the pains, and I’ll instruct her how to use them.”

“Where are you going?” Zoe noticed she was suddenly afraid to be alone.

“To speak with Agor the Merciless. He needs to understand what’s happening. Rest now. Do not leave this chamber. The next few hours will be difficult.”

Zoe nodded. As Lyra disappeared down the tunnel, she curled onto her side on the furs, pulling her knees to her chest. Soon, chills washed over her.

***

Lyra found Agor at the northern edge of the camp, watching as Durnak the Morose organized the evening patrol.

Six warriors checked weapons and adjusted armor straps while the captain spoke with his raider, pointing toward the darkening forest. It had been years since the horde was last disturbed by intruders, but the captain didn’t want to take any chances.

Once, they were attacked by another horde who wanted to steal their land, and another time, a few human hunters stumbled onto the horde and were chased promptly back to where they came from.

The mage walked to the party, clay jar in hand. Agor paused his conversation with Durnak as she approached. The silent raider nodded to Lyra, then stepped away.

“Captain.” She stopped before him and held up the jar. “I found this in your mate’s hands. She was about to use it on herself.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked from the jar to Lyra’s face.

“Where is she?”

“In your chamber. I sent Pira to watch over her.” Lyra kept her voice calm. “She is not well, Agor.”

“That is for me to decide.” He reached for the jar, but Lyra pulled it back.

“This is not just a healing balm, captain. It contains parasitic magic that drains her vitality. The formula was designed for orc females, not humans. In Zoe, it creates a dependency that grows with each use.”

Agor crossed his arms. “My mate is strong. She endures what others cannot.”

“She is not enduring. She is being consumed.” Lyra stepped closer, lowering her voice so the nearby warriors couldn’t hear. “The changes you’ve seen in her behavior, the desperation, begging for pain, following you around camp… those aren’t signs of desire. They’re symptoms of addiction.”

A muscle jumped in Agor’s jaw.

“What are you saying?”

“She’s not craving you, captain. She’s craving the curse in this jar. Her body needs the magic, not your touch. The ritual you share is simply the means to receive it.”

Agor stared at Lyra. He didn’t want to believe her.

Zoe’s need had to be for him. The idea that she wanted only the magic hurt his pride.

The thought that he had harmed her, that he had changed the woman he chose into someone desperate and weak, was even worse.

He’d damaged what he should have protected.

But admitting that meant accepting his role in what was happening. It meant accepting he had been wrong.

Rejecting Lyra the Mage was easier than accepting what she said.

His hand shot out, snatching the jar from her grasp.

“You are mistaken, mage. My mate wants what I give her. She needs me, not some curse in a jar.”

“Captain, please listen…”

“Enough. I chose Zoe because she was strong enough to handle what others could not. She remains strong. Your concern is noted but unnecessary.”

Lyra started to speak again, but Agor turned his back on her, ending the conversation. He tucked the jar into his belt pouch and rejoined Durnak the Morose, pointing again to the forest as if their discussion had never happened.

She stood there for a moment. Agor had ended the conversation, and Lyra understood why. The captain wasn’t just guarding his pride. He was protecting the hope that he hadn’t ruined the mate he’d searched for with such ardor.

***

Agor the Merciless walked through the tunnels toward his and his bride’s chamber, one hand touching the wall to guide his path.

The clay jar bumped against his hip with each step, reminding him of his conversation with Lyra the Mage.

He would go to Zoe, perform their ritual, and prove the mage wrong.

She was young, after all. What did she know?

He turned the final corner and paused to light a torch in the wall bracket, then pushed aside the curtain.

Zoe lay on their bed, wrapped in several furs. Pira knelt beside her, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. His mate’s body shook, her skin pale, her hair wet with sweat and stuck to her face.

Pira looked up and stood abruptly.

“The shaking stops and starts. The tea Lyra taught me how to make does little to help.”

She collected her water skin and cloths, then nodded to Agor as she left the chamber. Agor knelt on the stone floor beside the bed.

Zoe’s eyelids fluttered. She blinked several times before her gaze found his face.

“Agor…”

“I’m here.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.

She grabbed his wrist, her fingers digging into his skin.

“Do you have it? Did Lyra give it to you?”

“Have what?”

“The jar.” Her gaze inspected him from head to toe. “She took it from me. I just need a little.” She leaned closer, voice dropping. “Just enough to stop the pain.”

“Zoe…”

“Please, Agor. I need it. Just a little.”

Agor studied her face – her bloodshot eyes, her dry lips, the need that changed her features.

He reached for his belt pouch and pulled out the jar, holding it between them.

Her attention immediately shifted from his face to the container.

Her hands reached for it, fingers stretching toward the jar, not toward him.

She didn’t see him anymore; she needed the magic.

Agor looked at his mate for the first time in weeks.

This wasn’t the woman who’d met his gaze with courage when he chose her at the institute.

This wasn’t the female who talked about engines and tools with excitement.

The sick person before him was not the mate he had claimed.

He’d done this to her. Through his needs and his pride, he’d broken the one he’d sworn to protect.