Page 60 of Her Orc Protector

Somewhere behind us, a lamp was being lit in the Tinderpost kitchen—its soft golden glow spilling into the yard, catching on the breeches of the herb bushes, the rain-beaded leaves, theworn iron gate that marked the threshold between safety and the world.

I turned to face it.

The warmth was still there in my chest somewhere—of kisses, yes, and tea and linen and laughter. But now it was layered with steel. With knowing.

He might come.

And I would not run.

Chapter 17

Ididn't sleep that night.

The charm lay on my nightstand, its scorched edges like tiny teeth against the polished wood. Ellie slept peacefully in her cradle, unaware of the magic that had reached for her—and failed. Hobbie had rewoven the wards as promised, her small hands deft and purposeful as she worked hawthorn into the thread. I’d watched her lips move in silent incantation, her eyes narrowed with concentration that bordered on anger.

When she finished, she'd looked up at me, solemn and direct. "Better," she'd said.

Now, in the thin gray light of pre-dawn, I dressed quietly. The floor creaked beneath my feet as I moved about the room, gathering my shawl and a small leather satchel. Ellie stirred but didn't wake, her tiny fist opening and closing against the blanket as she dreamed.

I slipped the charred charm into my satchel, careful not to crumble it further. Then I bent and kissed Ellie's forehead,inhaling the scent of her—milk and clean linen and something uniquely her own.

"I'll be back soon," I whispered.

Hobbie appeared silently in the doorway as I straightened. She gave a curt nod, as if to say she understood.

"Keep her close," I said softly.

Another nod. No questions. Just those watchful eyes and the set of her small shoulders—protective, determined.

I left her there, guardian of my greatest treasure, and made my way down the stairs. The rest of the house was still asleep, though I could hear Gruha in the kitchen, the rhythmic thump of dough being kneaded and the soft clatter of pans.

When I reached the Archives an hour later, the early light was casting long shadows through the high windows. Edwin was already at his desk, spectacles perched on his nose as he sorted through a stack of correspondence.

"Ah, Miss Fairbairn," he greeted me, looking up with a mild smile. "You're early today."

I approached his desk without preamble. "I need to show you something."

His eyebrows rose slightly at my tone, but he set his papers aside and gave me his full attention. "Of course."

I withdrew the charm from my satchel, unwrapping it carefully before placing it on his desk. "Have you ever seen magic do this?"

Edwin leaned forward, adjusting his spectacles as he examined the object. His expression remained neutral, but I noticed the slight tightening around his eyes, the way his fingers hovered just above the blackened edges without touching them.

"Where did you find this?" he asked quietly.

"It was hanging above my daughter's cradle. A protective charm. It... intercepted something."

His gaze flicked up to meet mine, sharp with sudden focus. "When?"

"Yesterday evening. Hobbie made it—she said it wasn't local magic. That it came from afar."

Edwin reached for a small wooden case on his desk, opening it to reveal a set of slender tools. He selected a pair of silver tweezers and used them to turn the charm, examining it from all angles.

"The pattern of corruption is unusual," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "Half-burned herbs, warped copper... but no actual flame."

I watched him work, his methodical movements somehow reassuring despite the circumstances. "So you've seen it before?"

Edwin was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, careful. "I saw something like this once. During the war. A sealing artifact that twisted the air around it. Everything near it went still."

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