Page 8 of Her Orc Healer

Maeve stood a few paces ahead, tiny fingers curled trustingly around a massive green hand.

The orc.

He held her steady in the busy street, his broad frame a solid wall against the jostling marketplace. The midday light caught on the deep lines of his face, the scar along his cheekbone stark against his dark green skin. His gaze—sharp, unreadable—lifted from Maeve to me.

The weight of it pinned me in place—calm, unreadable, almost too steady, like he was already seeing more than I meant to show.

Then I was moving, stumbling toward them, relief and panic tangling like frayed threads. Maeve was safe—safe—but I needed to touch her, to feel her warm and breathing beneath my hands.

But as I reached for her, the world lurched sharply to the side.

The ground swayed beneath me, the flood of bodies pressing in, the noise thick and dizzying. My lungs seized, dragging for air that wouldn’t come.

Too much.

Too loud.

Too—

The orc shifted. Stepped forward.

“She yours?” His voice was low, rough with something unreadable—judgment, disapproval… or maybe just curiosity.

I couldn’t answer.

Not because I didn’t want to—but because my tongue felt thick, my throat tight. My hands trembled where they hovered just short of Maeve, fingers curling toward her before curling in on themselves.

Maeve said something, but I didn’t catch it. My heartbeat drowned out the words, roaring in my ears.

My knees buckled.

The last thing I registered was the orc’s grip closing around my upper arm, holding me up, keeping me from careening to the ground. Maybe he said something: a curse, a murmur, an order. Maybe Maeve called my name.

I didn’t know.

The edges of my vision blackened.

And then, there was nothing.

Chapter 3

ThefirstthingInoticed was the warmth.

Not just from the fur-lined blankets cocooning me, but from the mattress itself—deep and soft, pulling me down like a slow tide. The scent of something unfamiliar curled around me, earthy, woodsy, laced with something faintly herbal. It clung to the fabric, to the pillow beneath my cheek, to the very air around me.

I breathed in. Exhaled.

For the first time in—I didn’t know how long—I felt weightless. The ever-present ache in my shoulders had dulled. My limbs, usually coiled tight with strain, had loosened into something dangerously close to comfort.

I let myself sink into it, just for a second.

Then—

Memory struck like a stone to the ribs.

The market. Dizziness. Maeve—gone. I bolted upright and instantly regretted it.

The room tilted sharply, and a sharp pulse of pain bloomed behind my eyes. I sucked in a breath, pressing a palm to my forehead. My heartbeat was loud, a drum pounding between my ears.

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