Page 19 of The Orc's Bonded Bride (The Five Kingdoms #3)

CHAPTER 19

E gon’s Beast growled as he recognized Khorrek’s scent and Lyric gave him a worried look.

“Do you know him?”

His jaw clenched. “Yes. He’s one of Lasseran’s favorites. A Beast warrior.”

Outside, Khorrek laughed. “The High King sends his regards, Egon of Norhaven. Did you think your little quest would go unnoticed?”

The wise woman was already lowering herself into the tunnel. “This was always a possibility. Khorrek has hunted many who sought to break the curse.”

Egon peered through a crack in the wall. Five warriors surrounded the hut, but it was Khorrek who drew his eye—leaner than most orcs, with tusks filed to sharp points and a deep scar across his face. Dark armor enhanced his menacing presence.

“Your brother plays at being chieftain while the real power grows,” Khorrek called. “The High King has plans for you, Egon. Surrender now, and the woman lives.”

His heart hammered against his ribs. How did they know about Lyric? How long had they been watched?

“We can’t outrun them,” he whispered to Lyric.

Her fingers tightened around his. “We don’t need to outrun them. Just reach the sacred pool.”

The wise woman’s head disappeared into the tunnel. “The stone circle. Remember.”

Khorrek’s voice grew closer. “Your time runs short, brother. The woman or your life—choose.”

Egon felt his Beast rising, demanding release, demanding blood. He fought it down. Not yet. Not with Lyric so close.

“Go,” he urged her toward the tunnel. “I’ll hold them off.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but to his relief, she closed it again and disappeared into the tunnel.

His veins burned with the familiar heat of transformation as soon as she was out of sight. His Beast, so carefully restrained, now demanded release. He took a deep breath, then stepped outside to face his enemy.

Khorrek stood in the clearing, flanked by his warriors. His lips curled into a cruel smile, revealing jagged tusks filed to deadly points.

“The prodigal son returns,” Khorrek sneered. “You could have been one of us, Egon. Lasseran’s finest.”

“I’d rather die.” His voice deepened as his body began to change, muscles expanding beneath his skin.

Khorrek dismissed his men with a flick of his wrist. “Leave us. This is between brothers.”

The warriors melted into the forest, but he knew they hadn’t gone far. They were simply giving their leader room to enjoy the kill.

“We are not brothers,” he growled, feeling his bones shift and crack.

“No?” Khorrek’s own transformation began, his lean frame bulking with corded muscle. “We share the same curse. The same Beast blood.”

He lunged forward, his partially transformed body a blur of motion. His fist connected with Khorrek’s jaw, sending the warrior staggering backward. But Khorrek recovered quickly, twisting away from his second blow with unnatural speed.

Pain exploded across his back as Khorrek’s claws raked through his tunic, tearing flesh. The scent of his own blood filled the air, triggering a deeper transformation.

Khorrek matched him change for change, his body contorting until he stood half-orc, half-Beast—the perfect hybrid warrior that Lasseran coveted.

They circled each other, two apex predators assessing their prey. Khorrek moved first, feinting left before driving a clawed hand toward his throat. He blocked, bones cracking under the impact, but used the momentum to slam his knee into Khorrek’s ribs.

The fight became a savage dance—neither fully Beast nor man, caught between worlds as they tore at each other. Blood slicked the forest floor. Trees splintered as bodies crashed against them.

“She’ll die screaming,” Khorrek taunted between blows. “Lasseran has special plans for your little mate.”

Rage blinded him, and he charged, abandoning technique for pure fury. It was a mistake. Khorrek sidestepped, driving a dagger deep into his side. He staggered, one hand pressing against the wound, hot blood seeping between his fingers. His Beast howled, demanding vengeance, but the injury slowed his movements.

Khorrek circled, savoring his advantage, then abruptly tilted his head, his nostrils flaring.

“I know you,” he muttered. “From the fight pits.”

He froze, the words striking deeper than the blade had. How did Khorrek know about that dark chapter of his life? Those brutal years spent in underground arenas, forced to fight for the entertainment of nobles with appetites for blood and suffering.

Khorrek’s eyes narrowed, recognition dawning in their amber depths. “I know that scent. The Scarred One, they called you. Undefeated in the northern circuit.”

Memories crashed through his mind—chains, roaring crowds, the metallic taste of blood. Years he’d tried to forget, to bury beneath the new life he’d built with his brothers.

“You…” Khorrek’s voice changed, a flicker of something besides cruelty crossing his face. “You killed the Butcher of Khal’Mor. I was there that night.”

He remembered. The Butcher—a mountain of a man who’d slaughtered dozens in the pits. The fight that had finally earned Egon his freedom.

“You were there,” he growled, the realization hitting him. “A boy In the front row.”

Khorrek’s stance faltered. “My master brought me to witness true strength. But in your second fight you refused to kill after you won. They whipped you for that mercy.”

Something shifted in Khorrek’s expression—confusion, conflict. The perfect soldier of Lasseran suddenly looked uncertain.

“They told me you died in those pits,” Khorrek said, his transformation receding slightly. “That mercy was weakness. That the Beast must always finish what it starts.”

He saw the opening—not a physical one, but something deeper. A crack in Lasseran’s indoctrination.

“They lied to you,” he said, straightening despite the pain. “About everything.”

He watched the conflict play across Khorrek’s face, sensing a rare opportunity. The warrior before him wasn’t just Lasseran’s weapon—he was someone who had once been a boy, watching from the shadows of the fight pits. Someone who had witnessed a different kind of strength.

“What else did they lie about?” he asked, keeping pressure on his wound but straightening to his full height. “What else has Lasseran hidden from you?”

Khorrek’s amber eyes flickered, his transformation receding further as doubt visibly worked through him. “The High King rewards loyalty. He gave me purpose when I had nothing.”

“Purpose?” He spat blood onto the forest floor. “Or chains you can’t see?”

Something in those words struck home. Khorrek’s jaw tightened, his gaze darting to the trees where his men waited. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“The blood moon ritual. It’s not what you think.” Khorrek moved closer, tension radiating from him. “Lasseran doesn’t fear the curse being broken. He wants it strengthened, altered.”

His heart pounded. “What do you mean?”

“The wise woman was right about the convergence of powers, but Lasseran has perverted the ritual. The first step is a new set of Beast warriors—ones that he can control completely. He has them training nearby.” Khorrek’s voice grew urgent. “Next he plans to channel the old powers through himself, to become something… more.”

“A god,” he breathed, horror dawning.

Khorrek nodded grimly. “With an army that can’t refuse him. Every Beast warrior bound to his will, unable to resist his commands.” His eyes met Egon’s. “Even your brothers.”

The implications crashed through his mind. Not just enslavement—total domination of every Beast warrior. Wulf, Lothar, their mates—all under Lasseran’s control.

“Why tell me this?” he demanded.

Khorrek’s expression hardened again, the moment of vulnerability passing.

“Perhaps I remembered something from those pits after all.” He backed away, sheathing his weapon.

Without another word, Khorrek melted into the shadows of the forest, leaving him alone with his wound and the terrible knowledge of what was to come.