Page 36 of Her Orc Protector

"She didn't sleep," Uldrek added from where he stood nearby. "Neither of them did."

Kazrek nodded, his expression revealing nothing as he carefully examined Ellie. His hands were surprisingly gentle for their size, checking her glands, ears, and gums.

"Ah," he said, finding what he was looking for. "Here's our culprit. Bottom teeth coming in. Strong ones, too."

Relief made my knees weak. "So it's just teething?"

"Teething, yes, but there's nothing 'just' about it. Fevers with teething can be serious, especially with the weather turning damp." He looked up at me. "You've been giving her cool liquids? Keeping her comfortable?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling inadequate. "I tried. She wouldn't take much."

Kazrek's expression softened slightly. "You did well to bring her in. The fever's high but not dangerously so. I'm more concerned about you, honestly. Mothers need rest as much as their little ones."

Before I could respond, a small face peeked around the edge of another curtain I hadn't noticed before—a little girl, maybe five or six years old, with Rowena's copper hair and wide, curious eyes. She clutched a stuffed owl, watching us with undisguised interest.

"Zuzu’rak," Kazrek said, a smile warming his voice. "I thought you were helping Ro with the ink samples."

"I was," the girl said softly. "But I felt something." Her gaze fixed on Ellie, and for a moment, they seemed to stare at each other with strange intensity—two small beings somehow communicating without words.

Then the little girl ducked back behind the curtain, disappearing as suddenly as she'd appeared.

Kazrek shook his head, his expression fond as he turned back to us. "Now, let's get this little one more comfortable, shall we?"

He moved to a cabinet and began gathering supplies: a small stone bowl like the one Hobbie had used, dried herbs, and a vial of clear liquid. "The brownie's poultice was a good start," he said, nodding at the paste still visible on Ellie's chest. "But we'll add a few things. Willow bark for the fever, chamomile to soothe, a touch of lavender for sleep."

As he worked, mixing herbs with practiced hands, I felt the tension I'd been carrying all night begin to ease slightly. Not disappear—never that—but lessen enough that I could think beyond the next moment, the next breath.

"You let her sleep through," Kazrek instructed as he applied a fresh poultice. "Both of you need it. Cool cloths when she wakes, and this tincture on her gums—just a drop, mind you. It will numb the pain and help with the inflammation."

I nodded, committing each instruction to memory despite my exhaustion.

Kazrek stepped back, his task complete. "She's strong," he said, a hint of approval in his voice. "Good lungs, clear breathing, and already working on her second tooth. She’s just caught between growth and the weather.”

I exhaled slowly. It felt longer than a regular breath—like I’d been holding it since the fever started.

“She’ll be alright, then?”

“She’ll be alright,” Kazrek affirmed. “Especially with a mother stubborn enough to wear holes in the floor rather than sleep.” He looked at me then—not sharply, but with the tired kindness of someone who's sat beside too many tired mothers.

“I didn’t know who else to go to,” I said quietly. The words came before I meant them to.

Uldrek made a low sound behind me, something like agreement or maybe just acknowledgment.

Kazrek gave a dry smile. “Well, next time you’re up all night worrying, you send someone for me sooner. Or better yet,” headded, gesturing toward Uldrek with a lazy flick of his wrist, “use your orc properly. He’s got two legs and at least half a brain. Let him fetch the healer instead of hovering like a mother bear.”

I startled a breath of laughter—quiet and hoarse—and glanced at Uldrek.

He raised his brows. “Just half a brain?”

“Generous estimate,” Kazrek shot back, already cleaning his tools.

Rowena returned just then, carrying a wrapped cloth bundle and a small vial. “Salve,” she said, pressing the vial into my hands. “For her chest. It’s gentle enough for infants, and the scent will help keep her calm.” Her fingers lingered on mine for an extra beat. “Maeve had a spell just like this her second winter. She’s all magic and bones now. You’ll be alright.”

The words almost undid me. Not because they were grand or poetic—but because they were so practical, so simple, spoken with a quiet certainty that left no room for shame.

I bit down on the feeling rising up and just nodded. “Thank you.”

Rowena offered me a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, then reached out to gently brush Ellie’s cheek.

---