Page 67 of Her Orc Healer

I pushed back from the table and stood, brushing invisible crumbs from my skirts. “I need air,” I murmured.

Kazrek’s eyes lifted to mine instantly. “Too much mead?”

“Too much everything,” I said with a small smile.

I slipped away, weaving through clusters of chairs and half-dozing revelers sprawled on cushions and rugs. As I reached the doorway, I caught the silvery-haired elven woman from earlier humming under her breath, a little dish of starlight-colored powder glimmering in her palm.

Outside, the night air was crisp and cool. The Cozy Heart’s porch was strung with dim lanterns, their glow just enough to push back the shadows.

I leaned against the railing, exhaling slowly.

The city was quieter out here. The thrum of magic and laughter behind me gave way to the more familiar sounds—distant boots on cobblestones, a dog barking somewhere far off, the soft rustle of wind through paper streamers left from the Night Market.

I wasn’t used to this kind of stillness—the kind that didn’t demand anything of me. No customers. No Maeve tugging at my sleeve. No ink to grind or orders to fill. Just… quiet.

It should have felt like peace.

Instead, it felt like waiting.

I turned the carved charm the old man had given me over in my hands, fingers tracing its smooth edges. A spiral pattern ran across its face, etched in careful, looping lines.Safe dreams, he’d said. I wasn’t sure I remembered what those were.

Behind me, the door creaked, and I didn’t need to look to know who it was. I felt Kazrek’s presence the same way I felt gravity.

He didn’t speak at first. Just came to stand beside me, leaning his forearms on the railing. We stood like that for a moment, staring into the quiet dark.

I looked up at him. “Do you think Selior is avoiding us?”

Kazrek’s jaw worked slightly. “I think… sometimes people know when trouble’s walking toward them. And they get smart about staying out of the way.”

I let that sit for a beat. Then, softly: “So, he thinks we’re trouble.”

Kazrek glanced sideways at me, his profile lit by the faint lantern glow. “You’re asking questions most people are afraid to say aloud. That makes you dangerous. Or brave. Depends on who you ask.”

I looked back out over the quiet street. “Do you think I’m brave?”

There was a pause. A long one.

Then, softly, “I think you’re the only one who doesn’t know you are.”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really. My throat was too tight. I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders. Kazrek remained silent, standing with his hands braced at his sides, looking out over the field. The moonlight cast silver edges along his features, sharpening the lines of his jaw, the slope of his tusks. He looked steady here. Solid and vast, like the earth itself.

After a long moment, I took a breath. “Do you miss them?” I asked, my voice quiet.

Kazrek’s dark eyes flickered toward me, unreadable.

“Your people,” I clarified. “The ones you left behind.”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I think… I was meant to stop somewhere. And see what could grow.”

“So you chose Everwood,” I murmured.

“I did.” Kazrek glanced at me then, something searching in his gaze. “And you? You’ve stayed here your whole life. Was it ever a choice?”

I exhaled, my fingers tightening around the edges of my shawl. “No,” I admitted. “But it had to be this way.”

He turned more fully toward me at that. There was no pity on his face—just quiet understanding. “For Maeve.”

“And for the shop,” I said. “For my father’s work, for my family’s name. It had to be me.”