Page 17 of Her Orc Healer

I gathered the remaining dishes, forcing my hands to stay steady. The sooner this was done, the sooner everything would go back to normal.

If normal even existed anymore.

Once everything was picked up, Kazrek stepped toward the door, pausing just before opening it. “I’ll be back.”

I exhaled through my nose, gripping the edge of the table like it might steady something inside me. "You don't need to."

Kazrek’s gaze flicked to me, unreadable. "I know." And then, as if that explained everything, he waved to Maeve and opened the door.

The outside air rushed in, stirring the loose parchment on my desk. He stepped onto the cobbled street, his broad frame briefly shadowing the doorway. For a moment, I thought he might say something else—something that would keep tugging at the threads of whatever it was he had started unraveling in me. But he just nodded, a small, deliberate motion, and disappeared into the afternoon bustle.

I stood there, staring at the door long after it had swung shut.

Maeve, still seated at the table, broke the silence with a satisfied sigh. "That was good," she declared, licking the last traces of sauce from her fingers. "Kazrek should bring us lunch every day."

I let out a sharp breath, raking a hand through my hair. "That isnothappening."

"Why not?" she asked innocently, tilting her head. "You liked it."

I scowled at her, but the look barely fazed her. She grinned, kicking her legs under the table. "You did," she insisted, sing-song.

I didn’t dignify her impish observation with a response. Instead, I busied myself gathering the last of the parchment scraps from the floor, trying to rein in whatever clamor of thoughts Kazrek had left in his wake.

Because Maeve wasn’t entirely wrong.

It wasn’t just the meal. It was the blunt way Kazrek had inserted himself into my routine without hesitation, like my resistance didn’t matter. Like he had already decided I needed looking after, no matter how much I argued. And worse—worse—was the fact that I didn’t immediately want to shove that concern away.

That was dangerous.

I dropped the last of the parchment birds into the rubbish bin, sighed, and turned back to Maeve. “Go wash up.”

She slid out of her chair with a dramatic groan and started up the stairs to our little apartment over the ink shop. Even as she went, she hummed under her breath—some wandering little tune she often made up on the spot when she was content. And right now, she was undoubtedly content.

Because of him.

I straightened the disheveled papers still scattered across the desk, trying not to think about the impossibility of Kazrek. His quiet steadiness, his unyielding patience. The way he moved through space, staying firm but never overbearing. How easily Maeve trusted him, clung to him like he was something safe.

Something stable.

I wasn’t sure what unsettled me more—that she had already welcomed him so effortlessly or that a small, treacherous part of me wanted to follow suit.

But I knew better than to lean on anyone. People left. My father, my sister, every fleeting attempt at connection I’d ever known. Even the ones who stayed always left in some way—pieces breaking off, drifting where I couldn’t follow.

Kazrek wouldn’t be different. No matter how solid he seemed now, eventually, he’d find the edge of this life and walk away like the rest of them.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, pressing my palms into the edge of the desk. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything. Kazrek had inserted himself into my life for reasons that made no sense, and sooner or later, he’d realize he was wasting his time.

Chapter 5

Butthen,thenextday, he came back.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

For a week now, Kazrek had been coming to the shop like clockwork.

Every day, around midday, the door would creak open, and there he’d be—one massive hand pushing it aside like it weighed nothing, the other holding a cloth-wrapped bundle that smelled better than anything I’d had in years.