Page 50 of Her Orc Healer

I swallowed hard, forcing my expression to remain neutral as unease slithered down the back of my neck.

Maeve’s fingers twitched at her sides. She was entranced, her wide hazel eyes locked onto the pendant, her small body leaning forward like she was being drawn to it. A sharp whisper curled at the edges of my hearing—just below the hum of the market, just above the merchant’s next enthusiastic pitch.

Come closer.

My pulse lurched.

I needed to get the merchant’s attention, pull him away before he noticed Maeve. Before—

Maeve reached out.

“—and this, my dear,” the merchant continued, oblivious, “is particularly rare! A gift from a traveling scholar who—”

The moment Maeve’s small fingers brushed the pendant, a loud crack split the air.

A pulse of darkness shot outward from the stone, a shockwave rippling through the space between us. It wasn’t violent—not outwardly—but something unseen shifted, something wrong. The nearest lanterns flickered, their flames dimming as an unnatural chill passed through the air.

The merchant turned sharply, caught mid-sentence, blinking in confusion. “What in the—?”

I snatched up the pendant, shoving it into my palm, curling my fingers around the stone to block it from sight. Maeve barely had time to react, her gaze snapping up to mine, her breath fast and startled.

The merchant peered down at the display with a puzzled frown, rubbing his temples like he was trying to recall what he’d been saying. His eyes flicked over his wares, narrowing slightly. “Strange… Felt like a draft just now.” His voice carried mild confusion but not alarm—he hadn't noticed the shift. The way the world had tilted for a second, like a breath inhaled too sharply.

Maeve clung to my side, her fingers gripping the fabric of my sleeve. She was staring at the pendant in my clenched fist, her lips parted, eyes round with something too close to fear.

I needed to get her away from here.

Forcing a tight smile, I shoved a few coins onto the table. "We'll take this one," I said, my voice steady, practiced—making it sound like nothing had happened at all.

The merchant gave me an appraising look but shrugged, sweeping the coins into his palm. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said, already turning to the next curious customer, launching into another breathless tale of fae-ravaged kingdoms and enchanted relics.

With a guiding hand on Maeve's back, I maneuvered us out of the crowd and away from the stall, weaving through the shifting bodies and murmured conversations until the noise melted into something quieter.

Only when we were in the relative stillness of an alleyway behind a spice vendor’s cart did I stop, pressing my back against the cool brick and taking a deep, shaky breath.

Maeve looked up at me, the question already in her eyes. "Ro..." she whispered.

I opened my hand.

The stone lay motionless in my palm now, its surface dulled and lifeless compared to the writhing shadows it had held moments ago. But a deep crack had formed across its face. The lines curved and connected in a way that made my eyes want to slide away from it, forming a symbol I didn't recognize but that felt inherently wrong, like looking at something backward in a mirror.

"It spoke to me," Maeve whispered, her voice small but steady. She reached toward the stone but stopped just short of touching it again. "Like... like it knew me."

"The shadows know their own."

The voice sliced through the quiet. I whirled around, instinctively pushing Maeve behind me, to find the woman in blue standing at the alley's entrance.

"You have no idea what forces you're dealing with," she continued, her tone almost gentle.

My grip tightened around the stone. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Don't you?”

Ice slid down my spine. Maeve pressed closer to my side, and I could feel her trembling.

"What do you want?" I managed, keeping my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my throat.

"To help." She took a step forward, shadows pooling at her feet.