Page 52 of Her Orc Protector

"She'll be into everything soon," Fira said, tearing a chunk of bread. "Better start securing your valuables now. They're like magpies at that age—anything shiny disappears."

"Speaking from experience?" Uldrek asked.

Fira shrugged. "My sister has five. Each one worse than the last."

"Five?" Leilan's eyes widened. "All at once?"

"Gods, no," Fira snorted. "One after another, like she didn't learn her lesson the first time."

Dora clapped her hands in delight. "Fira has nieces and nephews! I knew it! Is that why you don't come to dinner more often? Secret family obligations?"

"I don't come to dinner more often because you talk too much," Fira retorted, but her words had no real heat.

"You missed my joke earlier," Dora said, undeterred. "About the wizard and his mother-in-law."

"Thank the Seven for small mercies."

"I'll tell it again!"

The banter continued as the rain drummed steadily against the windows, turning the common room into a warm island of light and laughter. I found myself relaxing into it, absorbing the easy rhythm of their voices, the casual way they moved around each other—passing bowls, refilling cups, stealing bits of bread from each other's plates.

Beside me, Uldrek shifted, adjusting Ellie as she began to fuss. His movements were gentle but sure, as if he'd been holding babies all his life instead of wielding weapons. As I watched him, something warm unfurled in my chest—a fragile tendril of hope I hadn't dared examine too closely.

Ellie, apparently dissatisfied with her current entertainment options, reached out and grabbed Fira's long braid. The dwarf froze, looking down at the tiny fingers tangled in her hair as if she'd discovered a snake in her lap.

"Um," Fira said, uncharacteristically lost for words.

I reached to disentangle Ellie's grip. "I'm so sorry—"

"Leave it," Fira said, her voice oddly soft. She looked at Ellie thoughtfully, then sighed. "Let her hold on. It's fine."

The table fell silent for a moment, all of us watching this unexpected moment of surrender. Then Dora broke the spell with a dramatic gasp.

"The fearsome Fira, felled by a baby," she declared. "Wait until I tell everyone."

"Tell anyone, and I'll hide rotten fish in your bed," Fira threatened, but her eyes never left Ellie, who was now contentedly patting her braid with her free hand.

The evening continued, warm and unhurried, as the storm outside began to soften into a steady drizzle. We ate hand pies that were, despite Fira's protests, perfectly made. Dora told more outrageous stories. Leilan shared news of a magical plant shop opening near the east gate. Gruha mostly listened, offering occasional dry commentary that somehow always landed perfectly.

Through it all, Uldrek's solid presence beside me felt like an anchor—steady, reliable, but not confining. Every so often, his eyes would meet mine across the rim of his cup, and the warmth in them would make my breath catch. Once, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with casual tenderness, his fingers lingering against my skin for a moment. The touch was fleeting, but it left a trail of warmth in its wake.

"More wine?" Gruha asked, breaking my reverie.

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I should probably get Ellie to bed soon."

As if on cue, Ellie yawned hugely, her little face scrunching up before settling back against Uldrek's chest. Her eyes were already drooping, the excitement of the evening finally catching up with her.

"I'll take her," Hobbie announced, sliding from her stack of cushions. "You two finish your food."

Uldrek looked uncertain. "She's almost asleep. Moving her might—"

"Please. I've been settling babies since before you had teeth." Hobbie reached up, and after a moment's hesitation, Uldrek carefully transferred Ellie to her waiting arms.

Despite her diminutive size, Hobbie handled Ellie with practiced confidence. The brownie whispered something in a language I didn't recognize—soft, melodic syllables that seemed to make the air shimmer slightly. Ellie's eyes closed completely, her breathing deepening.

"Magic?" I asked quietly.

Hobbie shook her head. "Old words. Comfort, not spells. I'll be in your room."

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