Page 7 of Her Orc Healer

Corwin reached beneath the counter and pulled out a neatly wrapped parcel of parchment. “Good quality, as always.” He hesitated, glancing toward Maeve before adding, “Though prices have risen. I hope you brought extra coin.”

I stifled a sigh, reaching for my pouch. “Prices have risen every week, Corwin. I don’t have extra coin to throw at your whims.”

Corwin sniffed, adjusting his spectacles. “Not whims, Rowena. Inflation. Transportation costs. Supply shortages.” He spread his hands as if the entire economy of Everwood rested on his shoulders. “You know how it is.”

I did. And I hated it.

“I’ve always paid a fair price,” I said, folding my arms. “I won’t pay a copper more than what was agreed.”

Corwin sighed, rubbing at his temple. “You’re as stubborn as Thok at tax season.”

That, at least, I wouldn’t argue.

Corwin gave in with a grumble, sliding the parchment toward me. “Fine. Fine. Seven silver, as we originally discussed. But next time—”

I didn’t hear the rest.

Because as I turned and reached for Maeve, my hand met nothing but air.

My stomach dropped.

“Maeve?” My voice was sharp, cutting through the marketplace din.

No answer.

Panic flooded my veins, quick and cold. I spun, eyes snapping over the crowd. People shifted around me, unaware, unconcerned. A halfling woman haggled over a bundle of rosemary. A pair of elven merchants muttered in quiet conversation. A human trader barked out the price of ripened pears. Too many faces, too many moving pieces.

Maeve was small. Too small to see over the shoulders of bustling marketgoers. Too fast, too clever—just like her mother.

I forced down the rising terror and pivoted on my heel, scanning the gaps between stalls, the paths between carts. She couldn’t have gotten far.

“Maeve!” My voice strained now, bordering on desperate.Where is she?

The headache pulsed sharper, radiating behind my eyes, sending a wave of nausea rolling through my gut. The sounds of the market swelled and blurred, a cacophony of voices, footsteps, distant laughter, the clink of coins, all pressing in—

Too much.

Too loud.

I swallowed against it, pushing forward.

Maeve was quick on her feet. She liked to chase cats, touch every piece of fabric within reach, wander toward anything that glittered. Had she seen something? Had she run after it? Had someone—

I cut the thought off before it could fully form. She was fine. She had to be fine.

But by the Seven, what was wrong with me? I shouldn’t have let go of her hand. I knew better. I should have been watching her, should have—

My vision swam.

"Maeve!" I called again, but my voice was raw, barely cutting through the din.

The world tilted slightly, my limbs heavy, slow. I needed to breathe.

I needed—

Then, just as fast as the panic had swallowed me—

There.

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