Page 20 of Her Orc Protector

Ellie's cries paused as she registered the change. Her dark eyes widened, taking in the unfamiliar face above her. For a heart-stopping moment, I feared she would scream—but instead, she stared up at Uldrek with intense curiosity, one small hand reaching toward his face.

"Hello again, little one," he rumbled, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it. "Your mother needs to eat."

Ellie's fingers found the leather cord of his necklace and tugged experimentally. Uldrek made no move to stop her, simply adjusting his hold to keep her secure while allowing her to explore.

I watched them, a strange tightness building in my throat. This massive orc warrior cradling my daughter as naturally as breathing. His scarred hands, capable of such violence, now gentle enough to hold something so precious. So fragile.

And I wasn't afraid. Not even a whisper of fear clouded the moment.

When had that happened? When had Uldrek shifted from necessary ally to... this?

"You've done this before," I observed, picking up my pastry again.

Uldrek nodded. "Told you. Sister has three. Helped with all of them."

"They're in Verdant Pass, you said?"

"Mm. Good community there. Strong. Safe."

Ellie babbled something indistinct and reached for Uldrek's tusk, fascinated by its curve.

"No, little one," he said, gently redirecting her hand. "Not for grabbing."

"She likes you," I said, unable to keep the wonder from my voice.

Uldrek glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "You sound surprised."

"She's usually wary of strangers."

"We're not strangers anymore, are we?" His gaze held mine, and something passed between us—an acknowledgment that whatever had started as pretense had grown roots, taken shape, become something neither of us had planned.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks and looked away first. "No, I suppose we're not."

The silence that settled between us was comfortable, broken only by Ellie's occasional sounds of exploration and the distant bustle of the Heart District beyond the courtyard. I finished the pastry and reached for a second, realizing just how hungry I'd been.

"Edwin seems nice," Uldrek commented after a while. "Didn't ask questions."

"He never does," I replied. "Just watches. Listens."

"Dangerous quality in the wrong person."

"But not in him?"

Uldrek shrugged. "Seems to be on your side. That's enough for now."

I thought of how Edwin had gradually shifted my duties from cleaning to more scholarly work, how he'd trusted me with increasingly valuable texts, how he never commented on the false name in my paperwork. The quiet ways he'd made space for me, for Ellie.

"He doesn't know about..." I gestured vaguely, encompassing everything I couldn't quite name. Gavriel, the flight, the fear.

"Doesn't need to," Uldrek said simply. "Some stories aren't for sharing."

Once, that sentiment would have felt like another wall to hide behind. Now, it felt like understanding. Like respect for what I'd chosen to keep private.

"Fira suspects something," I admitted. "She keeps leaving food. Making sure I take breaks. She pretends it's for Ellie's sake, but..."

Uldrek's mouth quirked. "The grumpy ones are always soft underneath."

I laughed—a small sound, but genuine. "Is that your expert assessment?"

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