Page 21 of Her Orc Protector

"Mmm. Takes one to know one."

The implication that he considered himself "soft underneath" made me smile. At first glance, there was nothing soft about Uldrek Wolfsbane—all muscle and scar tissue, battle-worn and sharp-eyed. But I'd seen the way he held Ellie. The careful way he'd taught me to break a hold without bruising me in the process. The fact that he'd thought to bring lunch when he noticed I wasn't eating enough.

Perhaps we all wore our hardness differently. Mine in silence, his in scars. Both armor against a world that had taught us caution.

"Fira's handwriting is terrible," I said, changing the subject. "I can barely decipher her notations in the ledgers."

Uldrek chuckled. "Should see orc script sometime. Makes dwarf runes look delicate."

"Can you write it?"

"Enough to get by. Never much for books." He shifted Ellie more securely against his chest when she yawned widely. "Better with spoken words."

"I've noticed," I said dryly.

He glanced at me, surprise flickering across his features, followed quickly by that almost-smile. "Was that a joke, Miss Fairbairn?"

"An observation," I corrected, but I was smiling too, unable to help myself.

This—the easy conversation, the shared humor, the simple pleasure of sitting in the autumn sunlight with someone who asked nothing of me but honesty—it was rare. Strange. Maybe even dangerous, in its own way.

And it was interrupted—of course—with almost ritual precision, as the moment found its shape and then slipped through my fingers.

A longer shadow passed across the stone steps. Then another. I registered them distantly at first, half-listening to Uldrek murmuring to Ellie about the ridiculous way she’d tried to eat her rattle the day before.

Then came the voice: clipped, formal—a tone I recognized all too well.

“Miss Fairbairn.”

I turned toward the source with a sinking heart. A man and a woman stood at the foot of the steps. Council liaisons, by the look of their robes—gray trimmed with deep green, the badge of the Civic Harmony office pinned to one breast.

“The Council requests your immediate presence,” the woman said.

Uldrek tensed beside me. Not visibly—not to most. But I felt it in how his breath quieted and his posture shifted just slightly. Protective. Ready.

“What is this about?” I asked, and to my credit, my voice didn’t waver.

The woman’s eyes flicked to the man beside her—tall, elven, with a narrow face and the kind of expression that said he’d dealt with too many civilians and liked almost none of them.

“Verification,” he said. “Concerning your bond status.”

I looked down at Ellie. She was falling back asleep against Uldrek’s shoulder, her head nestled close to his collarbone. One small fist clutched the edge of his tunic. She’d stopped fussing.

Behind Uldrek, movement drew my attention. Edwin stood in the great arched doorway, hands clasped loosely behind his back. He gave me the smallest of nods. He wouldn’t interfere, but he’d seen. He was watching. A steady point of stillness I hadn't realized I needed.

Uldrek said nothing, but he gently passed Ellie back into my arms, his touch careful and practiced. I shifted her back into thesling, hands moving automatically—even as anxiety slithered its way up my spine.

Then he stood.

“I’ll walk with you,” he said. Not a question.

I looked up at him and nodded, grateful without knowing how to say it.

The Council liaisons didn’t object. They turned as one, leading the way up the narrow boulevard that curved east, past Sunrise Plaza and into the Civic Row. We followed a few paces behind.

I fell into step beside Uldrek, pulling Ellie’s sling tighter across my chest, though she didn’t stir. The streets of Everwood felt different with those two figures ahead of us. Like I no longer belonged to the anonymity of the crowd. Like eyes were turning.

I kept my gaze on the cobbled path, narrowing where the roots of an alder tree had lifted a stone. There was a chill in the air, even with the sun out, and I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me.

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