Page 63 of Her Orc Healer

Maeve beamed. "Can we mix new ones?"

"If you've got steady hands," Brindle replied.

Maeve turned to me, her face aglow with excitement. I nodded, brushing my fingers over her shoulder as she darted off with Brindle in tow.

The moment they disappeared into the back room, the air in the shop changed. The easy banter from earlier faded, replaced by something quieter, more measured. Vorgrim leaned forward, resting his scarred hands on the table. His eyes flicked to Kazrek, and for a long beat, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally: “I didn’t sense anything strange.”

Kazrek exhaled slowly, his jaw working. “You’re sure?”

Vorgrim nodded once. “There’s power in her, no doubt. But nothing that reeks of the kind of magic you described.”

I frowned, my grip tightening around the edge of the table.Magic you described.

Kazrek had told them.

Uldrek, who had been unusually quiet, stretched out his legs and tipped back in his chair. “She’s sharp, that’s for sure. Sharp like a blade you don’t realize is at your throat until it’s too late.” He smirked, but when he looked at me, something in his expression was almost cautious. “But she didn’t feel cursed.”

A small, clipped sound escaped me before I realized I’d made it. “You’ve been studying her?” My voice was quiet, but edged, controlled.

Three sets of orcish eyes landed on me.

Kazrek turned to me first, the muscle in his jaw shifting. “Rowena—”

“This is none of their business,” I snapped.

Kazrek stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that only I could hear. "I trust them with my life," he murmured. "Which means I trust them with yours. With hers."

The words hit me like a physical thing. I turned away, arms crossed tight against my chest, trying to hold onto my anger. But it was harder with him so close, with the quiet certainty in his voice.

"You should have asked me first," I said, but the edge had dulled from my tone.

"You're right." His hand settled on my shoulder, warm and steady. "I should have. But Vorgrim... he knows things about old magic. Things that could help us understand what's happening to Maeve."

"And what if understanding puts her in more danger?" I challenged, finally turning to face him. "What if knowing draws attention we don't want?"

"Then you'll have two more warriors ready to stand between her and that danger," Uldrek cut in, his usual playfulness gone. When I looked at him, his expression was serious, almost grim. "Listen, I know you don't know us. But Kazrek? He doesn't give his loyalty easily. If he's chosen to protect you—both of you—then so have we."

I swallowed hard, searching his face for any sign of deception. But there was only steady conviction there, mirrored in Vorgrim's quiet nod.

"The girl has power," Vorgrim said simply. "Power that others will notice, whether we try to hide it or not. Better to understand it. To prepare."

My chest ached with the truth of it. I'd been trying so hard to protect Maeve by keeping her magic hidden, but maybe that wasn't enough anymore.

Slowly, I uncrossed my arms. "If anything happens to her—"

"It won't," Kazrek said firmly.

After a moment of tense silence, Kazrek's expression shifted. "Show them the symbol," he said quietly. "The one from the stone."

I hesitated, but only briefly, before moving to my workbench. The sketch was tucked beneath a stack of orders—the paper was soft at the edges from how many times I'd unfolded and refolded it, studying the mark that had branded itself into that dark stone when Maeve touched it.

Vorgrim accepted the sketch with careful hands, his scarred fingers tracing the lines as if reading a story written in their curves. His expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his eyes—recognition, maybe. Or concern.

"It's almost a protection mark," he mused, tilting the paper to catch better light. "But... not quite."

Uldrek leaned over his shoulder, frowning. "Feels backward," he said, reaching out to trace one of the spiraling lines. "A normal ward keeps something out. This looks like it's meant to hold something in."