Page 24 of Her Orc Blacksmith

As we left the Runery, the atmosphere between Vorgath and me was thick with unspoken emotions. It wasn’t discomfort or regret, but a fear of how real this was starting to feel—at least for me. Each moment was building on the last, creating something between us that felt as if it had always been there, waiting. I wasn’t certain where it was leading, and choosing to follow felt as natural as breathing—but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

We walked in silence for a while, the distant sounds of the marketplace growing louder as we approached. Just as the silence was becoming unbearable, I cleared my throat.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “We could grab some food.”

Vorgath's steps slowed, and he looked down at me. “I'm not sure that's wise,” he answered. “The locals might not appreciate...”

“I know a place,” I said. “You'll be welcome there—I promise.”

Vorgath gave me a long, searching look before nodding. “Lead the way, then.”

With my new hammer swinging at my side, I led the way through the winding streets toward the Heart District. Here, townhouses with rooftop gardens clustered around communal squares, and I could smell fresh bread baking from a nearby bakery. The air hummed with the lively chatter of tradespeople, children’s laughter, and the occasional musician strumming a lute.

As we ventured deeper, I noticed that the curious glances and whispers were fewer here. The Heart District was known for its diversity, and we hardly stood out. Even Vorgath seemed to feel it—his shoulders eased after the second time a passing merchant greeted him without a second thought.

Finally, we arrived at our destination. The Cozy Hearth Inn stood before us, its weathered sign swinging gently in the breeze. Ivy clung to the stone walls, and the steady murmur of voices within hinted at a lively gathering.

I turned to Vorgath with a smile. “Here we are. The best food and company in all of Everwood.”

Vorgath raised an eyebrow. “Bold claim.”

“Just you wait,” I said, pushing open the door. “You'll see.”

Chapter 11

We stepped into the Cozy Hearth Inn and were greeted by the warmth of a crackling fire and the rich scent of roasted meats and fresh bread. The space was cozy, with low wooden beams and walls adorned with old maps and hunting trophies. Long wooden tables filled the center of the room, where patrons laughed and shared meals, while smaller, more intimate booths lined the walls. A halfling woman bustled between tables, her apron dusted with flour, offering quick smiles as she balanced trays of food and drink.

“Soraya!” she exclaimed, spotting me.

Milla was a fellow widow of the war, and we'd formed an unlikely bond in the aftermath. She’d often brought me meals when times were tough, and I’d mended her clothes in return. Sometimes, her stew had been the only thing I’d had to eat for days.

“Back again, and with a new friend, I see!”

I had to grin at her easy acceptance. “Milla, this is Vorgath. He's my… mentor.”

Milla's eyebrows shot up, her gaze darting between us with undisguised interest. “Oh? Well, any mentor of Soraya's is welcome here. Come on, let's get you two settled.”

She led us to a corner table where the chairs—even for someone of Vorgath's size—were crafted to accommodate all kinds of patrons. It was one of the few places in town that went the extra mile to cater to everyone.

“See?” I said, unable to keep the hint of smugness from my voice. “I told you you'd be welcome here.”

“So you did.”

Milla returned with two large tankards of sweet mead and took our order. As she walked away, I caught her throwing a wink in my direction. I felt my cheeks warm, wondering what assumptions she might be making about Vorgath and me—and realizing she might not be entirely wrong.

I took a sip of my mead, savoring the honeyed flavor. It was rich and smooth, with just a hint of spice, brewed with herbs from the local apothecary.

“So,” I said, meeting Vorgath's gaze over the rim of my tankard, “what's the plan for the rest of the day? Back to the forge?”

“If you’re up to it,” Vorgath replied. “Though I’d understand if you’d prefer a break.”

“Not at all,” I said quickly, the eagerness in my voice catching me off guard. I cleared my throat. “Besides, now I have my new hammer to try out.” My fingers drummed lightly on the table where it rested.

“I’m glad you like it,” Vorgath said, glancing down at the tool. “It suits you.”

Before I could respond, Milla returned with our meals. She set down two steaming plates of roasted venison, rootvegetables, and thick slices of bread, along with a small dish of spiced apples. The aroma was mouthwatering, and my stomach growled loudly in appreciation.

The tension from earlier in the day had all but dissolved by the time we dug into our food. The conversation flowed easily, centered around lighthearted topics—like the latest mishaps at the smithy and amusing stories from the market.

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