Page 85 of Her Orc Protector

Uldrek laughed. "Jealous, Fira? I'm sure there's someone here desperate enough to make eyes at you, too."

She snorted. "I'd sooner kiss a troll."

"Don't sell yourself short," Uldrek shot back. "I'm sure even trolls have standards."

Their banter continued, familiar and easy. I should have been comforted by it—this was normal, this was us, our littlecircle intact despite the day's upheaval. Instead, I found myself watching Uldrek too closely, cataloging every gesture, every laugh, every flicker in his eyes.

Something was different. The bond between us had shifted. Not broken, but… muted.

As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin. Gruha left first, stating flatly that she needed her sleep and didn't care if the rest of us stayed until dawn. Fira followed not long after, citing early duty at the Archives. One by one, the tables emptied until only a handful of diehard revelers remained.

"Should we head home?" I asked Uldrek, stifling a yawn.

He nodded, draining the last of his ale.

We said our goodbyes, accepting final congratulations and well-wishes. Outside, the night air was crisp and clean after the smoky warmth of the tavern. Stars dusted the sky, and a half-moon cast gentle light over the quiet streets.

We walked in silence for a while, our footsteps the only sound. Our hands brushed once, twice—but didn't link. The space between us felt both small and vast. I wanted to reach for him, to thread my fingers through his as I'd done a hundred times before. But something held me back—a strange new hesitation I didn't understand.

"It went well tonight," Uldrek said finally, his voice breaking the quiet. "People really rallied around you."

"Around us," I corrected gently.

He glanced at me, that quick smile appearing again. "You're the hero of the hour. I just stood beside you, looking intimidating."

"You did more than that." I stopped walking, turning to face him. "You've done more than that from the beginning."

In the moonlight, his features were shadowed, but I could see the slight furrow of his brow. "Issy—"

"What's wrong?" I asked directly. "And don't tell me nothing. Something's changed."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's been a long day. I'm just tired."

"It's more than that." I reached for his hand, relieved when he didn't pull away. "The bond feels different. Quieter."

His expression shifted, a flash of something—relief? concern?—crossing his face. "You feel it, too?"

I nodded. "Since we left the Council chamber."

Uldrek's fingers tightened around mine briefly before releasing them. "It's probably nothing. The bond's done its job. Protected you. Now that the threat's gone..."

He didn't finish the thought, but I understood the implication. Now that we no longer needed the protection, perhaps the bond itself was fading.

The idea sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with the night air. "Do you think it's… ending?"

Uldrek shook his head, but the gesture lacked conviction. "I don't know.”

We resumed walking, the cottage now visible ahead. A single lantern burned in the window—Hobbie's work, no doubt. The sight of it eased something in my chest. Whatever was happening between Uldrek and me, that light represented home. Safety. The life we'd begun to build.

"I think I need to sober up," Uldrek said as we reached the front path. His voice was lighter now, almost deliberately so. "Might splash some cold water on my face."

I studied him carefully in the moonlight, noting how his hand drifted again—absently, unconsciously—to his chest. His fingers touched his shirt just above the claiming mark, rubbing lightly at the fabric as if the quiet there itched.

“Cold water?” I repeated, managing a small smile. “Brave of you. It's not warm out.”

“Better than waking up with a head full of sawdust and regrets,” he said, already pulling at the laces of his tunic as he turned away from the path to the front door and started toward the back of the cottage where the washbasin sat, tucked beneath the lean-to.

I stood at the base of the porch, one hand on the rail. Ellie dreamed in peace, somewhere beyond the cracked shutters and warded walls. I should have felt whole. Safe. Triumphant.

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