Page 48 of Her Orc Healer

I exhaled and followed suit, focusing on restocking a set of quills, pushing aside the awareness of him. There were too many people, too many things to keep track of. The last thing I needed was to get caught up in him again.

A woman in a deep blue cloak approached the booth, running her fingers over the edge of a parchment roll. “Do you have ink strong enough to hold prophecy?” she asked, her voice smooth, unreadable.

“Depends on what you mean,” I replied. “I have arcane-binding ink. It holds enchantments well. But if you mean ink that predicts the future... that’s beyond my expertise.”

The woman smiled, though it was impossible to tell if she was amused or simply assessing. “Prediction and permanence are nearly the same thing when viewed from the right perspective.” She tapped a nail against the parchment, the sound oddly hollow beneath the market’s hum. “But perhaps arcane-binding ink will do.”

I reached beneath the stall, fingers brushing the familiar cool glass of ink vials stacked in neat rows. Selecting one with dark plum-colored liquid, I set it carefully before her. “This should serve whatever purpose you have in mind.”

She didn’t reach for it immediately. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes—gray, like slate after rain—studying me with open curiosity. “Do you bind magic often, ink-maker?”

"Sometimes," I answered vaguely. My father had done it more than I ever had. I knew the methods—binding circles, sigils, the way certain inks held power better than others—but I didn’t like meddling with things I didn’t fully understand. That had always been Finn’s territory.

She hummed, finally picking up the vial and rolling it between her fingers. “And yet, magic clings to you.” Her gaze flicked toward Maeve, who was crouched beside the stall, tying a fallen ribbon into her hair. “To both of you.”

Kazrek shifted beside me, the movement subtle but unmistakably protective. If the woman noticed, she didn’t react.

Despite the prickle in my lungs, I forced my posture to remain steady. “Magic clings to a lot of people in Everwood,” I said carefully. “It’s hardly rare.”

She smiled, slow and knowing. “No. I suppose it’s not.” She reached into a small pouch at her waist and pulled out a pair of silver pieces, setting them on the counter. “A fair trade.”

I watched her retreat into the shifting currents of the crowd, the deep blue of her cloak swallowed by the glow of lantern light.

Kazrek’s voice cut through the remaining tension like a steady anchor. “Go walk for a while.”

I turned to him, frowning. “What?”

He gestured toward the crowd with his chin, his arms crossing over his broad chest. “Take Maeve and see the market. I’ll watch the booth.”

I stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. “And what, you’re suddenly an ink merchant?”

His mouth twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. “I can handle a few customers. You’ve been here for hours.”

Maeve, ever quick to latch onto an opportunity, perked up. “Oh! Can we go see the glassblowers, Ro?” She tugged at my sleeve, eyes shining with excitement. “And the fire dancers?”

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to refuse—out of habit, if nothing else. The shop, the stall, responsibility—I never left these things unattended. I didn’t know how to.

And yet…

Kazrek watching over our wares was different from asking a stranger. His whole presence was built on reliability and steadiness. If he said he'd take care of something, he would.

Still, I narrowed my eyes at him. “If you give away anything for free—”

“I won’t.”

“And if someone tries to haggle you down—”

He huffed a dry laugh. “They won’t.”

I exhaled, weighing my options. Maeve was practically bouncing beside me now, tugging me away from the stall with insistent hands.

“You."

Kazrek lifted a brow. "Me."

"Are far too useful,” I muttered, surrendering the two silver pieces into his palm. “In case you need change.”

His fingers brushed mine as he took the coins—deliberately, I realized. Not a fleeting touch, but one meant to linger just enough to remind me of what had been unfolding between us.