Page 30 of Her Orc Healer

I pressed my hands against my face.

This has to stop.

No one stayed forever.

Not when things got hard. Not when there was nothing left to fix.

Kazrek had helped—again—because that was the kind of man he was. But after last night? After seeing me at my lowest, unraveling like a frayed spool of thread?

Surely, that had been enough to make him walk away.

A part of me was almost relieved. If he didn’t come back, I wouldn’t have to face him. Wouldn’t have to see whatever had changed in his expression after watching me collapse beneath the weight of it all.

Wouldn’t have to wonder if he pitied me.

I sighed and scrubbed a hand over my face, willing the throbbing ache in my skull to quiet. I needed to get up, check the shop, and pick up whatever pieces were left. I needed to figure out—

A voice.

Deep. Steady. Familiar.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

The sound drifted up from downstairs—low and rumbling, punctuated by the softer lilt of someone else speaking. I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew that voice.

Kazrek.

My stomach flipped. No. He wouldn't still be here. He couldn’t be.

And yet—another murmur. A rustle of movement.

The floor was cool beneath my bare feet as I pushed myself upright, careful not to disturb Maeve. She sighed in her sleep, nestling deeper into the blankets.

Then, heart hammering, I made my way downstairs.

Kazrek stood near the counter, broad shoulders relaxed, hands resting on the worn wood. He looked like he belonged there—solid, steady, as if this were just another morning, as if last night hadn’t left me unraveling in his arms.

But he wasn’t alone.

Perched on a stool behind the counter, small enough that her feet dangled several inches above the floor, was a tiny woman with a cloud of gray curls and eyes as sharp as chipped obsidian.

Kazrek looked up as I descended. “Rowena.” He inclined his head toward the woman beside him. “This is Auntie Brindle.”

The woman—Auntie Brindle—looked me over with a frankness that bordered on rude. Her gaze lingered on the dark circles under my eyes, the faint smudges of ink still clinging to my fingertips, the way my hand still gripped the banister as if I needed the support.

Then, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "You look like you could use a cup of strong tea and a good night’s sleep.”

Heat crept up my neck. I opened my mouth to retort, to tell her it was none of her business, but the words caught in my throat. Because she was right. I did.

Kazrek cleared his throat. “Auntie Brindle has a bit of magic herself,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “And she’s been looking for a place to settle since her last youngling moved on.”

My gaze flicked between them, confusion warring with suspicion. "Settle?"

Auntie Brindle took a long sip from her mug, her eyes twinkling. "Brownies have their uses, you know. Especially around children with a spark. A bit of guidance, a touch of wisdom, a steady hand to keep things from going… boom.” She winked, and the air around her shimmered for just a moment.

It took me a moment to process what she was implying. "You mean… teach Maeve?"

Kazrek’s voice was quiet but firm. "Guide her the way she deserves. The way the Guild won’t."