Page 42 of Her Orc Protector

Dora reached across the space between us and squeezed my hand. Her palm was small and warm against mine, an anchor without weight.

"He had this way of making me doubt myself," I said, the words coming easier now. "Of twisting things so I couldn't trust what I saw. What I felt. What I knew."

"Magic can do that," Hobbie said abruptly, her sharp eyes fixed on me. "But so can words. Sometimes both together."

I nodded, grateful for her understanding—but also uncertain. "I used to think maybe it was just him. Just charm, just pressure. But there were days..." I trailed off, searching the air for something solid. "There were days I felt like I wasn’tinmyself. Like my own thoughts were... quieter. Slippery."

I looked at Ellie, sleeping in Leilan’s arms. "I found out I was pregnant. And I realized—" My voice caught. "I realized I couldn't let him do to her what he'd done to me. I couldn't let her grow up thinking that being controlled was the same as being loved."

The words hung in the air, raw and honest. I expected questions, perhaps. Advice. Pity, even.

Instead, Gruha rose silently and moved to the kettle, making another mug of tea. Dora squeezed my hand once more before releasing it. Leilan shifted Ellie's weight and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small tin.

"For you," she said, passing it to me. "Salve for the claiming mark. It'll help with the healing."

I blinked, surprised by the gesture and the practical nature of it. I took the tin, running my thumb over its smooth surface. "Thank you."

Hobbie finished whatever she was making with her string and held it up. It was a small, intricate web of knots, with what looked like tiny seeds or beads woven into it.

"Protection charm," she said matter-of-factly. "Goes above the door. Not against him—he's too far to reach you here. But against uneasy dreams." She gave me a pointed look. "Which I suspect you have plenty of."

"I do," I admitted. Night after night of waking in cold sweats, convinced he'd found us.

Hobbie nodded, satisfied with my honesty. "This'll help. Not cure-all. Just help."

Gruha returned with fresh tea, pressing the warm mug into my hands. "Drink," she instructed. "It'll settle your nerves."

I took a sip, letting the warmth flow through me. It tasted of herbs and honey, comforting in its simplicity.

"When my Iska was small," Gruha said quietly, settling back in her chair, "she used to have nightmares. Bad ones. Would wake up screaming about shadows in the corners." She stirred her own tea slowly. "I tried everything. Lights. Charms. Special teas. Nothing worked."

She paused, her eyes distant with memory.

"Then, one night, instead of trying to fix it, I just held her. Told her I'd keep watch while she slept. That she could rest because I was there, keeping guard." A faint smile touched her lips. "Worked better than any charm. Sometimes, knowing you're not alone is the only magic that matters."

The simplicity of it struck me. Not being alone. Having someone to keep watch. It was what they were all doing tonight—keeping watch while I caught my breath.

"I'm not used to this," I admitted, gesturing vaguely to encompass all of them: the night, the unexpected community.

"Get used to it," Hobbie said briskly, standing to tuck her charm into the rafters above the door. "World's hard enough without making it harder."

Dora yawned widely, stretching her arms above her head. "And on that cheery note, I think I might just close my eyes for a bit." She settled more comfortably on her cushion, drawing a blanket around her shoulders. "Wake me if anything exciting happens."

"Like what?" Leilan asked, amused.

"Oh, I don't know. More babies. Surprise visitors. Prophetic visions." Dora's eyes were already drooping. "The usual midnight drama."

I smiled, feeling some of the tension drain from my shoulders. Ellie was sleeping peacefully now, her earlier discomfort eased by Leilan's balm and the quiet of the room. The fire had burned down to a steady glow, casting long shadows on the walls.

Gruha produced knitting needles from somewhere in her robe and began to work, the softclick-clicka soothing rhythm in the quiet. Leilan continued to hold Ellie, her face serene in the firelight. Hobbie moved about the room quietly, adjusting the blanket over Dora, checking the window latch, her tiny form a flickering shadow against the walls.

I leaned back against the wall, cradling my tea in both hands. The claiming mark on my neck—Uldrek's mark—tingled faintly, a reminder of everything that had changed in the past few days. I thought of how he'd hovered over Ellie that morning, strong and careful. How he hadn't tried to take over, just offered to help carry the weight for a while.

Much like these women were doing now.

My eyes grew heavy. The tea, the warmth, the gentle sounds of companionship—all of it wrapped around me like a blanket. Forthe first time since I could remember, I felt my guard lowering. Not all the way. Not completely. But enough to breathe deeper. To let my shoulders drop from their perpetual tension.

Enough to rest.

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