Page 75 of Her Orc Protector

Hobbie returned to the hearth without a word, setting Ellie back in her chair and resuming her stirring as if nothing had happened. But I could see the tension in her movements, the quick glances she cast my way.

"They took their time," Uldrek said finally, sitting across from me at the table.

"Eight days," I agreed, running my finger along the edge of the parchment. "I thought it would be sooner."

"The Council likes to be thorough. Especially with charges like these."

I looked up at him, searching his face. I wanted to find reassurance there—calm, steadiness, the quiet confidence that had grounded me so many times before. But instead, what I saw was worry. Controlled, yes, but no less real for it.

Gavriel knew. He knew where I was. Who I was with. What I was doing.

I felt the floor tilt beneath me, a subtle shift like the start of a tremor. My stomach clenched. My skin prickled. I wasn’t ready. Not really. I'd thought I was, but this was different. This was real.

What if he twisted the story before I could speak it? What if they believed him? They always had before.

"Hey." Uldrek's hand covered mine on the table, warm and steady. "Nothing's changed. The hearing is still happening. You're still protected."

"Am I?" I pulled my hand away, standing abruptly. "The charms are burning, Uldrek. He's testing the boundaries."

"And finding them solid," he countered. "Hobbie's wards are holding."

I glanced at the brownie, who grunted in affirmation without looking up from her pot.

"For now," I said quietly. "But after tomorrow? When I stand in front of the Council and tell them what he did?" I shook my head. "He won't let that go unanswered."

Uldrek stood, too, coming around the table to face me directly. "Let him try," he said, his voice low and certain. "He won't get past me. Or Hobbie. Or the wards."

"Or me," I added, surprising myself with the steel in my voice.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Especially not you."

Hobbie cleared her throat loudly. "If you're done with your dramatics, the stew's ready."

I turned to find her ladling the fragrant mixture into bowls, pointedly ignoring our conversation. Ellie was watching the process with fascination, her earlier fussiness forgotten.

"Thank you, Hobbie," I said, meaning it for more than just the meal.

She waved a dismissive hand. "I'll strengthen the wards tonight. Better safe than fished out of the river in pieces."

"Charming image," Uldrek muttered, but he nodded to her with respect. "Thank you."

We settled around the table, the summons moved carefully to a side shelf. The stew was rich and flavorful—rabbit, I thought, with wild mushrooms and herbs from our garden. We ate mostly in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

I fed Ellie small spoonfuls, watching her face light up with each new taste. It was such a simple joy, watching her discover the world bite by bite. It grounded me, reminded me why I was doing this. Not just for myself but for her. For the life she deserved.

"What should I wear?" I asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Uldrek looked up, brow furrowed. "What?"

"Tomorrow. To the hearing. What should I wear?" I shook my head slightly. "It's a ridiculous thing to worry about, I know, but—"

"It's not ridiculous," he said firmly. "Appearance matters in court."

"The blue dress," Hobbie said, not looking up from her bowl. "The one with the buttons. Serious enough, but not trying too hard."

I blinked at her in surprise. "You've thought about this?"

"Someone has to," she said, matter-of-fact. "You’re brave, not foolish. Showing up rattled doesn’t help your case. That dress says you’re there to be heard, not pitied.”