Page 57 of Her Orc Healer

She snorted. “Hmph. Fair point.” Then, with a flick of her braid over one shoulder, she muttered something about rearranged shelves and wandered off, leaving us alone once more.

I shot Kazrek an apologetic look, but he just shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Come on," he said, gesturing toward the spiral staircase. "Let's see what the eastern wing has to offer."

The eastern wing was a maze of towering shelves and narrow aisles, illuminated by enchanted orbs that cast a soft, steady glow. As we searched, Kazrek's presence remained a constant at my side, his warmth radiating through the cool air between us.

"Here's something," I murmured, pulling down a leather-bound volume. "'Manifestations of Early Magic in Bloodlines.'Though..." I squinted at the publication date. "It's rather old."

Kazrek leaned over my shoulder to look, his breath stirring my hair. "How old?"

"Old enough that the ink is starting to fade." I turned carefully through the brittle pages. "And apparently old enough to suggest bleeding children to balance their humors."

"Perhaps not that one, then," he said dryly, plucking the book from my hands and returning it to its shelf.

I huffed a laugh. "You don't think bleeding might solve all our problems?"

"I prefer my patients with their blood inside them, thank you." His fingers brushed mine as he reached past me for another tome. "Though I did once know a healer who swore by leeches."

"And how did that work out?"

"About as well as you'd expect." His lips quirked. "The leeches lived very well-fed lives. The patients, less so."

I snorted, the sound echoing in the quiet stacks, and then continued to the next shelf.

I flipped through another fragile tome, my fingers careful not to smudge the delicate pages. “This one looks more promising,” I murmured, tilting it toward Kazrek. “Mentions spontaneous manifestations in young children. There’s a section on bindings, too—early methods used to contain unstable magic.”

He made a thoughtful sound, taking the book from my hands and tucking it under his arm. “We’ll bring it with us.”

I reached for another text, but before I could grab it, Kazrek leaned in again, his arm brushing against mine as he plucked the book down himself. The air between us thickened in an instant, the scent of leather and parchment overtaken by something distinctly him—warm, steady, grounding. I felt myself lean into that solidity without meaning to.

“You could have let me get that,” I said, my voice lower than I intended.

Kazrek turned the book over in his hands, unconcerned. “I could have.”

For a long moment, we simply stood there, the quiet of the archives pressing around us. There were only inches between us now, and the space felt charged, like the instant before a crack of thunder.

His gaze flicked to my mouth. My breath caught.

And then he leaned in.

His lips brushed mine with quiet deliberation, a breath of warmth, a taste of patience. My hands fisted in the front of his tunic before I even realized I'd moved, holding him there, keeping him just close enough to steal another breath. The world outside the warmth of his mouth faded—reduced to the quiet hush of parchment and the distant creak of wooden shelves.

I had told myself for so long that I wasn’t meant for this, that needing someone meant weakness, that desire was a distraction I couldn’t afford.

But here, pressed against him, I felt none of that fear.

Kazrek was not a complication. He was not something to be managed or endured. He was steady in the places where I wavered, patient where I hardened myself against hope. He did not ask for my burdens, but still, he shouldered them in the spaces between words.

I had spent years believing love was something that slipped through my fingers, something only meant for other people. But Kazrek kissed me like he had no intention of letting me go. And Seven help me—I wanted to hold on.

When we broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling in the quiet space between us.

“Rowena,” he murmured, my name rough on his tongue.

That was nearly enough to undo me completely.

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to take a step back. “We should—” My voice wavered. I cleared my throat. “We should get back to the front.”

Kazrek’s gaze remained on me, quiet and unreadable. But he nodded. “Agreed.”

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