Page 61 of Her Orc Healer

He hadn't come this morning. No breakfast from Grok's kitchen. No quiet conversation while I worked. No steady presence making the shop feel fuller, warmer, home. The thought made my chest ache. I wasn't supposed to need this—need him—so much.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to focus on my work instead of the gnawing absence in my chest. It was fine. He was fine. And I was not about to sit here like some love-struck fool wondering whether he planned to darken my door again.

The shop bell chimed again, and I looked up before I could stop myself. The morning light flooded in around three massive figures—and suddenly, my quiet shop was full of orcs.

Kazrek stood in the doorway, carrying what looked like enough food for a small army. Behind him loomed his friend from last night—Uldrek, I remembered—grinning as he ducked through the frame. But it was the third orc who drew my attention: older, with streaks of silver in his long dark hair, his hands marked with old burn scars. He carried himself with quiet authority, and both Kazrek and Uldrek seemed to unconsciously defer to him, adjusting their stance as he passed.

"Kaz!" Maeve abandoned her stones, launching herself at Kazrek's legs. Without missing a beat, he shifted the food to one arm and scooped her up with the other, settling her against his chest like always.

"Good morning,zuzu'rak," he rumbled, and something in my chest eased at the familiar warmth in his voice.

"We brought breakfast," Uldrek announced, already claiming a spot at my work table. "Though your mate here insisted we get extra of everything because apparently you're too busy being stubborn to eat properly."

I stiffened at the word “mate,” heat crawling up my neck. But before I could correct him, the older orc fixed him with a quelling look.

"Mind your manners, pup," he said, his voice deep and weathered. "I'm Vorgrim Redtusk. You must be Rowena."

"Yes," I said, wiping my ink-stained hands on my apron. "Welcome in."

Vorgrim's eyes swept the room, taking in the neat rows of bottles, the grinding station, the scattered evidence of Maeve's lesson with Auntie Brindle.

“Mmm.” Vorgrim’s gaze lingered a moment longer before he gave a slight nod. “Good space. Clean. Purposeful.”

I wasn’t sure why his approval mattered, but the tightness in my shoulders eased slightly.

Kazrek set the food down on the counter and shifted Maeve in his arms. She grinned up at him before wriggling to be set down. The moment her feet hit the floor, she turned and eyed our newcomers with open curiosity.

Maeve had always been cautious with strangers, but that hesitation was nowhere to be found now. As soon as she caught sight of Uldrek and Vorgrim properly, she beamed.

“You’re smaller than Kaz,” she declared, pointing at Uldrek.

Uldrek’s brows lifted, and then he dropped into a crouch, holding out a calloused hand. “I’m Uldrek.”

Maeve took his hand without hesitation and gave it a tiny shake, her nose scrunching in concentration as if she were sizing him up.

“And you?” She turned to Vorgrim, who regarded her with quiet amusement.

“Vorgrim,” he said simply.

Maeve nodded solemnly, then turned on her heel and trotted back to Auntie Brindle. “They can stay,” she announced, plopping herself back down on the rug as if that settled everything.

Auntie Brindle snorted. “Generous of you, girl,” she murmured, though her dark eyes flickered with something knowing. Then she turned her sharp gaze to the three orcs. “And how do you know our healer?”

“Uldrek is… from my clan,” Kazrek answered.

“More than that,” Uldrek corrected, nudging Kazrek’s shoulder with his own before turning to me. “We fought together in the Shadowfall War. He may not appreciate me saying this, but Kazrek’s the reason I still have two working legs.” He smirked. “Or any legs at all, really."

Kazrek shook his head with a small sound of exasperation, but Uldrek clearly had no plans to let it go. He turned his grin on Maeve, who had inched closer to listen, her wide eyes fixed on him.

"Did you know he once stitched me up while under siege?" Uldrek continued, smirking. "Arrow broke clean through my thigh. There I was, bleeding all over the place, making a perfectly reasonable amount of noise about it—"

"Screaming like a stuck boar, you mean," Kazrek cut in dryly.

Uldrek ignored him. "And this one here," he gestured at Kazrek with a broad hand, "didn’t even bother with pleasantries. Just snapped the arrow in half and started sewing before I could pass out." He clapped Kazrek on the shoulder. "Heartless bastard, really, but effective."

Maeve gasped as if this was the greatest tale of heroism she had ever heard. "Kazrek, you fixed his whole leg?"

Kazrek sighed. "It was either that or let him die."

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