Page 66 of Her Orc Blacksmith

I shook my head, smiling despite my weariness. “One trade at a time, thank you.”

Behind us, Vorgath grunted with effort as a heavy wooden beam settled into position with a dull thud. I glanced up, momentarily distracted by the way his arms flexed, muscles rolling beneath his green skin as he worked with Grimble to set the support.

“You know, if you stare any harder, you’ll bore a hole clean through him,” Brilda muttered.

“I wasn’t staring,” I mumbled, cheeks warming as I forced my attention back to the mithral wire.

Brilda chuckled, clearly unconvinced. “Aye, and I’m the Queen of Alderwilde,” she teased, reaching over to adjust the line of my weave. “Now focus, or else you’re going to end up with a tangled mess on your hands.”

Too late for that, I thought wryly, though I kept the comment to myself and tried to focus instead on the positive.

The forge was taking shape beautifully. Sturdy beams of enchanted oak framed the structure, woven with Brilda’s shimmering mithral, while Sylwen’s softly glowing runes protected the entrance. Surrounding the fire pit, the firepetalsadded warmth and safety, their crimson blooms blending beauty and purpose.

As I twisted another row of mithral wire, I looked around, feeling a quiet gratitude settle in. Each piece of this forge was a reminder of the people who stood by me as I reclaimed my dreams.

Suddenly, a cheerful voice called out from the direction of the path leading to town. “Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

I turned to see Thyri approaching, a basket slung over her arm and a broad grin on her face. Beside her, Elias trotted along, his eyes wide with excitement as he took in the bustling scene. Mrs. Crumble followed behind them, her gnarled hands holding a pot of something that smelled delicious.

“Dinner’s on!” Thyri announced, holding up the basket triumphantly.

At the announcement, everyone paused mid-task. Tools were set down, mithral wire was left to shimmer unattended, and even Sylwen allowed himself a contented sigh as he drifted over to the makeshift table.

“Perfect timing,” Grimble bellowed, tugging at his beard. “I was just about to gnaw on this here beam.” He patted the large wooden support with a grin, earning a few tired chuckles from the group.

Thyri approached, already zeroing in on Grimble. “If anyone’s chewing on anything, it’ll be one of my dinner rolls. Sit yourselves down before I start rationing portions.”

Grimble muttered something about dwarves and rations but complied, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

We all gathered around the rough table we had cobbled together days earlier—a mismatched collection of workers, friends, and magic-wielding elves, but somehow, it felt likefamily. Elias practically jumped into his seat, his small frame bouncing excitedly as he sniffed the air.

Thyri wasted no time dishing out steaming, toasted rolls, roasted vegetables, and savory slabs of ham.

“Eat up, folks,” she said. “Rebuilding forges calls for proper nutrition and maybe... something stronger.” She winked and produced a silver flask, which gleamed in the dwindling sunlight.

Vorgath, seated beside me, devoured the bread in two bites, and I noticed the way his jaw flexed as he chewed. My gaze drifted further south, tracking his powerful neck muscles down to that broad chest... my cheeks immediately heated.

Seven save me, I needed to get a grip.

It had been almost a fortnight since that night in the workshop—since his touch had lit me up from the inside out like a forge at full blaze. Since I’d let the fear win, let the weight of everything that had been torn apart push him away. I’d needed time to get my footing, to rebuild what I’d lost. He'd respected that, but now, I found myself aching for him to cross that gap between us again.

Thyri’s laughter rang out, drawing my attention back to the group. I watched as she offered Mrs. Crumble another helping of stew, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Elias, his mouth stuffed with bread, listened intently to Grimble’s animated retelling of an old battle, his face aglow with awe.

This—this was what Elias had wished for. Maybe not in so many words, but a life like the one we’d had before: filled with warmth, laughter, people who cared.

As for me? I was starting to realize that I wanted Vorgath woven into the fabric of that wish, as much a part of it as anyone else.

So then, why was I still holding him at arm’s length?

He had chosen me. He’d stood by me when I’d tried to push him away, when I’d buried myself in doubt. And if he could risk everything to stay, the least I could do was let go of the fear that kept me from fully choosing him.

I drew a breath, the realization settling into something firm and certain. I didn’t want to live my life guarded, waiting for things to fall apart. He was here, in the warmth of this gathering, in the laughter that lifted Elias’s face, and it was time I let myself believe in this, in him.

If I’d learned anything from the fire, from loss, fear, and heartbreak, it was that some things were worth fighting for.

And this—we—were worth it.

I turned to him, catching his gaze. His eyes, dark and steady, held mine, a silent question lingering there.

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