The Savage Vow (The Lunaterra Chronicles #14)

Chapter 1

Nargol Cydassi moved through the halls of Angarth Keep with long, silent strides.

Her dark cloak brushed her pants and flowed behind her.

The fortress had stood for generations. It was older than treaties and it carried the weight of every chieftain who had ruled before her father.

Thick, gray stone walls curved inward to form a maze of corridors and stairwells.

Every intricate design of the stronghold was engineered for defense.

Torchlight flickered in the iron sconces, illuminating the way.

Banners with the crest of the Nidani clan hung with pride.

She had grown up within those walls. Learned to fight within in those walls and had even been taught to listen to the shadows.

Angarth was more than a stronghold.

Nargol trailed her fingers along the walls as she passed. The faint grooves brushed her skin, and she felt connected to this very building. So many warriors had passed through these same halls. Different chieftains had ruled the lands.

Nargol knew them all.

Her tutors had tried to distract her from her obsession with her lineage when she was younger, but history mattered to her. She understood that from history, one could learn a lot.

It told who had ruled well. Who had failed. Who had been betrayed, and it also revealed the mistakes that were made and should not be repeated.

Servants and warriors stepped aside. They lowered their heads or pressed a fist to their chest in acknowledgment of her. Nargol did not slow down. She had been summoned to the chieftain, and he didn’t like when she was late. She wasn’t surprised her father was calling for her.

When he called on her, it was because something had gone wrong.

And she was needed.

She was the chieftain’s shadow.

When Tulak Cydassi needed answers that could not be demanded openly and he needed blood spilled without witnesses, issues solved, or information, he sent her. He also sent her when threats needed to be issued or to uncover truths that were hidden.

Her jaw tightened at a memory stirring. She had been captivated in watching her sister, Magoza, battle in the arena.

She had taken on an orc who had made threats to her mate.

Nargol had been the voice of reason for Magoza.

She’d told her to handle their issues in the arena—for once, her sister had listened.

But then the roar of the crowd had turned to screams.

She’d been observing the match from the shadows. Pride had filled her as Magoza had fought the massive orc, but then she’d glanced up at the royal box where her parents watched the fights. Chaos had taken over the secured area where they sat with their honored guests.

Chaos had followed. It was too organized to be chance, the orcs too desperate to be a true coup.

Orcs had surged forward and attacked the royal box. They had fought against the guards and swarmed the small area. These orcs had been raiders with one mission.

Overtake the chieftain and his mate.

Nargol had scaled the wall without hesitation.

Her muscles had burned when she’d hauled herself up toward the royal box.

Fury had flooded her veins when she’d seen an orc go after her sister’s small mate.

Her mother, Dura, had kept Amuleta behind her.

Nargol had landed on the platform next to Amuleta and shot her a wink.

“I hope I’m not too late for the party,” Nargol said.

“Get over there and help your father,” her mother snapped.

Her father and his men fought back. They were seasoned warriors which gave them an advantage over the orcs who attacked. Nargol joined the fray, and they defeated the insurgents.

She had just come from interrogating the orcs they had captured.

And she had some answers.

She reached the broad doors leading to the chieftain’s office and paused. She steadied her breath. The guards stationed there straightened immediately and slammed a fist above their hearts.

“Shadow,” they greeted.

She inclined her head and pushed through the doors.

Tulak Cydassi stood at the wide stone table that dominated the chamber, his huge arms braced against its surface.

Maps, spread out before him, showcased the clan’s borders etched in charcoal and ink.

Small, weighted stones marked territories and known movements.

Her father was built like the mountains.

His long, dark hair was braided back from his face carved by war and battles.

A deep scar ran from his forehead down to the right side of his jaw.

He was a great warrior, and she was sure that however he’d received that scar, the one who’d given it to him was no longer breathing.

He did not look up as she shut the doors behind her.

“You took your time,” he said.

“You summoned me, and I came almost immediately,” Nargol replied haughtily.

That earned her a huff of amusement. Tulak lifted his head, his amber gaze landing on her. Pride shined bright in his eyes. Her father was always one who boasted about his daughters. She knew without him uttering a word that he loved her and her sister dearly.

Nargol crossed the room and stopped in front of the table.

“You walk like your mother. I swear that female can sneak up on me when I’m least expecting it.” He smirked.

“Please tell me you did not summon me to discuss how I walk.” Nargol smirked, too.

Tulak stood to his full height, the glint in his gaze hardening.

He scowled, and his scar deepened, giving him a fierce look.

She clasped her hands behind her back, pleased with his comparison of her to her mother.

Dura Cydassi was one warrior she had always wanted to emulate when she was a young orc.

“No,” he said. He folded his arms. “I summoned you for answers.”

Nargol nodded. She knew why he’d requested her presence. She’d promised that she would get answers from the orcs they had captured. It had been bloody, but she’d gotten a lead on who the attacking orcs were.

“One of the orcs I interrogated gave me something,” she said.

“Only one?” He arched an eyebrow. He was not pleased at this answer.

“Most of them took their vows of secrecy to the grave,” she griped.

She slammed her hand down on the table and stared at him. Was he doubting how proficient she was at her job? He shouldn’t be. She was damn good at what she did. That was why he’d given her the position she held. Magoza, the commander, helped lead his army.

Nargol got needed information.

The reason she was just a tad bit late to his meeting was because of having to change her bloody clothing. She couldn’t imagine her mother would appreciate a trail of blood through the fortress.

She reached into her cloak and set down a small leather satchel.

She reached inside and brought out the item and laid it on the table.

She’d sliced it off the arm of the orc who had spilled information.

It was a piece of flesh, and she’d tried to dry as much of the blood off it as she could.

It was better than dragging a dead orc to her father.

The skin bore a crude sigil—two slash marks through a circle.

Tulak stared at the marking. A low growl emanated from him.

“The Ogola clan,” he barked.

“That was the clan he claimed. I got his name, and that was all he would give me,” she said. No matter how much she’d pushed, the orc wouldn’t say anymore. She hoped whatever he was covering up was worth dying for.

Tulak’s eyes snapped to her. He ran a hand along his jawline.

“Cardu has sworn loyalty to me,” he said.

The leader of the Ogola clan had recently been to their stronghold. He’d come with other clan leaders with their concern over her sister’s choice in a mate. When six or more leaders came together, it was known as a Council of Clans. A council had been formed to protect Aghon from destruction.

Apparently, Amuleta and Magoza’s mating was putting Aghon in danger.

Nargol bit back a snort. There were too many other issues they needed to worry about than who Magoza took as a mate.

“Many have,” Nargol said. She pointed to the flesh and snarled. “But obviously someone is moving against us.”

“Do you truly think Cardu would have instigated the attack?” Tulak asked.

He walked away from her and stood near the window that overlooked the courtyard.

Cardu had been very vocal against Tulak that night the council had arrived.

She tilted her head to the side and stood to her full height.

There was something about Cardu that had always bothered her.

Could she see him trying to overthrow her father?

Feck, yes, she could see it.

Cardu was an orc who would want the power of being the chieftain of their people.

“He’s been in the royal box before. He would know the layout and how to send orcs to attack it. You know he was still against Magoza mating with Amuleta even after the other leaders gave their support to the two of them. Those orcs who attacked were targeting Amuleta,” Nargol said.

He leaned on the windowsill and paused. He glanced over his shoulder at her and gave a nod.

“I know. Magoza is strong and can handle herself, but Amuleta is not,” he murmured. “Magoza will not allow anything to happen to her.”

“Amuleta is strong. She has Xagok’s blood running through her veins,” Nargol countered quietly. “But just not with a weapon.”

Nargol was impressed with Amuleta. The woman who was half orc and half human was destined to be with her sister. Nargol couldn’t imagine Amuleta with any other woman. The goddess Nogora had blessed her to find her fated mate.

“This I know also, and that is what worries me,” Tulak said.

Amuleta’s father, Xagok Sesh, had been a great orc. He’d risen to the ranks of commander before Magoza. He was the chieftain’s right hand. He’d died in Tulak’s arms after a battle. The two males had been close. Tulak still mourned his friend.