Page 15 of Her Orc Healer

"Good control," he said, as if levitating paper was the most natural thing in the world.

Maeve beamed. "Can you do magic?"

"Some." He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Different kind. Healing magic."

"Can you show me?"

"Maeve," I cut in, "let him eat."

But Kazrek just shrugged, setting down his food. He held out one broad palm, and a soft green glow emanated from his skin—gentle, nothing like the wild spark of Maeve's magic. It pulsed once, twice, then faded.

Maeve's eyes went wide. "Pretty! What does it do?"

"Mends broken things,” he said quietly. "Bones, mostly. Sometimes other hurts."

Something in his tone made me look up. For a moment, I saw something deeper in his eyes—something old and heavy. But before I could read more into it, he blinked, and the moment was gone.

"More questions after eating," he said, nodding toward Maeve's barely-touched food.

She pouted but complied, attacking hergrakthulwith renewed enthusiasm. I watched as Kazrek passed her a cloth to wipe her sauce-covered hands.

"You seem practiced at this," I said before I could stop myself.

Kazrek glanced up, one eyebrow raised slightly. "At what?"

I nodded toward Maeve, who was now meticulously arranging her vegetables into patterns on her plate. "Children."

He was quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. "Had younger siblings," he said finally. "Long time ago."

Something in his tone—a subtle weight, barely there—made me hesitate before asking more. Instead, I focused on my food, painfully aware of his presence across the table. The way his broad shoulders seemed to take up more space than should be possible. The careful precision of his movements, like someone who knew exactly how much strength he possessed and chose to be gentle anyway.

"They aren't in Everwood?" I asked. "Your family?"

"No. Those who survived the war..." He paused, taking another bite. "Most live in the northern clan lands now. Though my sister Larka works the docks in Port Haven with her husband."

"The war?" Maeve perked up, momentarily distracted from her food art. "Were you a soldier?" she asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Started as one." His voice held that same careful distance. "Ended as a battlefield medic."

"How did you end up here in Everwood?" I asked.

Kazrek took his time answering, methodically wiping sauce from his fingers. "After the war… I wandered for a while. Tried to outrun things that couldn't be outrun." His eyes flickered briefly to the window, as if seeing something beyond the glass. "Everwood wasn't planned. Just... stopped here one day. Found people who needed healing. Stayed."

"Just like that?" I couldn't keep the skepticism from my voice.

He shrugged one massive shoulder.

Maeve, who had been following the conversation with rapt attention, piped up. "Did you fight bad guys in the war?"

I opened my mouth to stop her but Kazrek answered before I could.

"There were bad things," he said carefully. "Dark magic. Corruption. But most people..." He paused, choosing his words. "Most were just scared. Trying to protect what mattered to them."

"Is that why you became a healer?" Maeve asked. "To help scared people?"

"Partly," he said slowly. "Mostly... saw too much breaking. Wanted to try putting things back together instead."

His words struck closer than I liked. I understood. Maybe too well. I'd spent years trying to hold a broken life together—after Father, after Finn—trying to make something whole out of the pieces.