Page 87 of Her Orc Healer

When I finally tucked her in, I lingered at her bedside longer than usual, watching the steady rise and fall of her small chest. She looked younger in sleep, impossibly fragile. The rune stone sat on her bedside table, wrapped in its protective cloth. I'd promised to fashion it into a necklace tomorrow, something she could wear without drawing attention.

Tomorrow. And the day after. And all the days that would follow, with or without Kazrek.

I traced a finger along her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. "I won't let anything happen to you," I whispered. "No matter what it takes."

Auntie Brindle sat nearby in the rocking chair, needles clicking softly in her lap as she worked a new strand of something blue and mossy. She didn’t look up, but I had the strange feeling she’d heard me anyway.

Back downstairs, I stood in the darkened shop, the faint moonlight filtering through the windows casting everything in shades of blue and silver. The silence pressed in around me, the absence of Kazrek's steady presence almost a physical ache.

I poured myself a cup of tea, but it grew cold as I stared at the closed shop door. What was I waiting for? He wasn't coming. Maybe he never would again.

The realization settled like a stone in my chest.

You don't get to keep people like him. You just get to watch them go.

I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders, decision made before I'd even fully formed the thought. I wasn’t going for answers—I already had those. I wasn’t going to beg him to stay—I had too much pride for that.

I just needed to feel something solid. Something warm. Something worth remembering when it was over.

The night air was cool against my skin as I walked through the quiet streets, my steps sure despite the uncertainty churning inside me. Few people were about at this hour—a handful of revelers stumbling home from taverns, a night guard nodding as I passed.

Kazrek's clinic was dark when I arrived, no lantern lit in the window. For a moment, I thought perhaps he wasn't there at all—perhaps he was already preparing to leave, already halfway gone.

I knocked once, the sound barely audible even to my own ears.

Long seconds passed. I was about to turn away when the door opened.

Kazrek stood in the doorway, surprise evident in his face. His shirt was rumpled, his hair loose around his shoulders. Candlelight spilled from behind him, casting his large frame in warm gold and deep shadow.

I said nothing. Just stepped over the threshold into the warmth of his space.

He didn't ask why I was there. I didn't explain.

I wasn’t ready to say I’d made my choice. I wasn’t there to change his mind. I just wanted one more moment.

One last breath before I stepped into the fire alone.

Chapter 24

Iwalkedpasthim,closeenough that my shoulder brushed his chest. The door shut behind me with a soft click, but I didn’t turn to look. I just kept going—through the quiet clinic toward his bedroom, the space where I'd nursed him through fever, where I'd first let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't meant to always be alone.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

In his bedroom, a single candle burned on the small table beside his bed, casting everything in amber and shadow. The sheets were rumpled, as if he'd been lying there, unable to sleep. The thought gave me a strange comfort.

I stood at the edge of the bed and finally looked back. He was still in the doorway, watching me. His eyes searching mine. Like he didn’t quite understand what this was.

He started to speak—“Ro…”—but I shook my head.

Not tonight. No explanations. No questions.

I reached for his hand. His fingers closed around mine, and I led him the rest of the way, step by step, until we were standing beside the bed. I turned, my hands going to the buttons of his shirt. They were small and stubborn, half-hung with loose thread, and it took longer than it should have to work them loose. He didn’t help. Just watched me with something unreadable in his eyes.

When the fabric finally gave, I slid it from his shoulders and let it fall, then pressed a hand flat against his chest. His heart beat steady beneath my palm, strong and constant. Everything I was not.

I leaned in and kissed him.

He kissed me back, slow at first, careful. His hands came to my waist, then my back, then up into my hair like he wasn’t sure where to hold me. Like he was still asking permission even after I’d already come to him.

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