Page 64 of Her Orc Healer

My stomach clenched. "In?" I echoed. "What do you mean, in?"

"See how the lines curve?" Uldrek gestured to the way the marks spiraled inward. "Protection wards point outward, like thorns. This is more like..." He paused, searching for the right words.

"Like a net," Kazrek finished quietly. "Or a cage."

The word hung heavy in the air between us. I thought of Maeve's small hands touching that stone, of the shadows that had reached for her like hungry things.

Vorgrim set the paper down carefully. "We need someone who can read more than surface runes," he said. "Someone who understands how these things were made—and what they were made to do."

Uldrek rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s that elf that's been traveling with us for a few moons. Selior, I think. The elders call him a bone-mark reader. Old magic, rune-binding, that sort of thing.”

“I’ll go speak to him,” Kazrek said, his voice steady as he folded the parchment and tucked it away. “He may be able to tell us more, but I—”

“No,” I cut in. “I’m going, too.”

Kazrek’s gaze snapped to mine, his brow drawing low. “Rowena—”

“I’m not sitting this out,” I said flatly. “I won’t just wait here while you—” I exhaled sharply, forcing myself not to let my frustration slip into something more vulnerable. “This is about Maeve. I need to hear whatever Selior has to say firsthand.”

Uldrek smirked, tipping back in his chair. “She gives orders like an orc.”

Vorgrim hummed noncommittally, lifting his tea to his lips. "She gives orders like a mother protecting her own," he corrected. "A reasonable demand. I see no reason she shouldn’t come."

Kazrek’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. His eyes held mine for a long, unreadable moment before he gave a short nod. “Fine.”

Before anything more could be said, Maeve and Auntie Brindle returned from the back room, Maeve clutching two small vials of dye—one a bright marigold, the other a deep plum. “I picked the happy colors!” she declared.

Brindle patted her shoulder. "That you did, girl." Then, she turned her sharp gaze on the room, her brow arching ever so slightly at the shift in tension. "And what exactly are we off whispering about now?"

Uldrek, smooth as ever, sat up with an easy grin. “Tonight’s caravan feast!” he said, all mirth and mischief. “Rowena was just saying she and Kazrek would like to join.”

I shot him a hard look, but before I could form a rebuttal, he added, “There’s someone there Vorgrim wants them to meet.”

Brindle clasped her hands together. “Oh, that’s a fine idea. Maeve and I have plenty to keep us occupied tonight. The girl’s strong enough to start weaving her own energy into charms, and I won’t have that talent going to waste. It’ll do us both good to have a night to work without your brooding spirit hovering over our shoulders.”

Maeve, oblivious to my rising discomfort, clapped her hands. “Charm work? Can I make one for Kaz?”

Auntie Brindle hummed approvingly. “A fine idea, girl. Even orcs can use a bit of warding now and then.”

Kazrek, entirely unaffected by the sudden decisions being made around him, tilted his head ever so slightly toward me, waiting.

I felt caught between two forces—their expectations on one side, my own tangled hesitations on the other.

It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to go out and celebrate. The idea of a feast, of wandering among strangers while pretending I wasn’t quietly unraveling inside, held about as much appeal as licking hot wax. There were too many questions unanswered, too many risks still lurking in the corners of my mind. Maeve’s magic. The rune. That blue-cloaked woman.

And yet...

I did want to speak with the elf—Selior. I wanted answers, even the ones I was afraid of. And if this feast gave me an opening to get them, I wasn’t about to waste it.

But there was something else, too.

Kazrek was watching me—quiet, unreadable. Not expectant. Not urging. Just still. Like he didn’t want to sway me one way or another. Like he was being careful. I didn’t know if it was for my sake or his, but it made something restless stir in me.

He always stepped so lightly around my boundaries—never pushing, never asking for more than I offered. And I had told myself that was a good thing. That I needed that kind of space. But sometimes, it felt like he was waiting for an excuse to pull away.

And sometimes, I wanted to know what it would look like if he didn’t.

Also, maybe it would be nice to go somewhere with him. Not for necessity. Not out of urgency or fear. Just... to be with him.

---