Page 22 of Her Orc Protector

“What are they going to ask?” I murmured, barely audible.

“Don’t know exactly,” Uldrek said. “Could be routine. Could be someone pushed for it.”

“Gavriel?” I asked, throat tightening.

“Could be the Order,” he said. “They don’t like when people slip the leash. Especially ones who know what they’re capable of.”

I swallowed. “They weren’t supposed to be able to reach me here.”

“They can’t. Not directly. Not unless the council lets them in through a side door.”

I looked straight ahead, my voice tight. “If they say it’s false—what happens?”

“They could revoke your protection,” he said, steady. “Say you forged a natural bond to get around the rules.”

I bit down on the panic rising in my chest. “And if they revoke it... what happens then?”

Uldrek nodded once. “Then the filing unravels. The protection falls.”

“And Gavriel doesn’t have to look for me anymore. He just has to walk through the door.”

His jaw clenched. “Exactly.”

“So what do I give them?” I asked. “What makes this enough?”

He looked at me, steady and fierce. “We show them what’s true. That you claimed me because you needed safety—and I stayed because I chose to.”

“And if that doesn’t matter?”

“Then we make it matter.”

Something in me clenched at that—at the we. At the quiet certainty in his voice. Not because I didn’t believe him. Just because I wasn’t used to anyone standing beside me when the ground gave way.

The Council Hall loomed ahead, curved stone columns and woven ivy partially obscuring the council’s seal above the door. A pair of guards stood at the entrance, but they didn’t raise a hand when the liaisons approached.

The woman turned halfway, glancing at me with practiced neutrality. “Right this way, Miss Fairbairn. The council chamber is prepared.”

I adjusted Ellie in her sling, tightening the wrap instinctively. Uldrek reached for the door before they could and pushed it open, gesturing for me to go ahead.

I didn’t look back as I stepped inside. I didn’t need to. I could feel him behind me—the quiet weight of his presence as familiar now as my own breath.

Chapter 7

The Council Hall's main chamber was a study in calculated grandeur. Three stories tall, with a domed ceiling that caught whispers and sent them spiraling into echoes, the space wasn't designed for comfort. It was designed to remind petitioners exactly where they stood: small beneath the weight of law and tradition.

Pale blue light filtered through stained glass windows set high in the walls—abstract patterns of alder tree leaves and roots. Beneath my feet, the marble floor held intricate inlays of silver and copper, forming protective wards that hummed with a soft, constant energy.

The Council bench stood on a raised dais at the far end of the chamber. Three ornate chairs, each carved from a different wood to represent the balance of powers in Everwood—oak for strength, alder for wisdom, and ash for resilience. Behind them hung the city's banner: deep green with silver threading that caught the light as it stirred in an unfelt breeze.

Ellie slept against my chest as we approached, her tiny breaths warm and steady against my collarbone. I adjusted her sling, drawing comfort from her weight—the most constant thing in my world. Uldrek walked beside me, his footsteps measured to match mine despite his longer stride. The Council liaisons led us to a semi-circular platform directly before the bench, then stepped away to stand at attention on either side.

I understood the message in the arrangement: we were the center of attention and also utterly exposed.

Three figures occupied the bench, watching our approach with varying degrees of interest. On the left sat a man with silver-streaked dark hair and the distinctive blue-tinged skin of a water elemental lineage. His robes marked him as a civic mage—one of Everwood's magical protectors. In the center, a woman with salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a severe knot, her expression carefully neutral, a ledger open before her. And on the right, a younger man with the sharp features and perfect posture of someone determined to embody the letter of every law.

The woman spoke first, her voice carrying easily through the chamber without seeming to rise in volume—an enchantment, perhaps, or simply years of practice.

"This council convenes to address the verification petition concerning Isolde—" She paused, consulting her ledger. "Forgive me. Issy Fairbairn and her claimed mate-bond with Uldrek Wolfsbane."

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