Chapter 18
The healer arrived before the food.
Delia heard the knock and called out permission to enter before remembering she had no idea if that was appropriate here. But the door swung open anyway, revealing an orc woman who was—
Not what she expected.
The healer was tall, like all orcs seemed to be, but leaner than the warriors Delia had seen.
Her tusks were smaller, more delicate, curving gently from her lower jaw.
Her skin was a softer shade of green, like moss in shadow, and her dark hair was braided with what looked like dried herbs and small bones.
But it was her eyes that caught Delia's attention. Warm amber, like Ralvar's, but filled with open curiosity rather than guarded intensity.
"So," the healer said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "You're the human who has our captain tied in knots."
Delia's mouth opened. Closed. "I—"
"Thessaly." The healer crossed to her briskly, setting down a leather satchel that clinked with bottles and implements.
"I've been healing warriors at this outpost for twelve years, and I've never seen Ralvar Stonefang look the way he looked when he carried you through those gates.
" She knelt beside Delia's chair, already reaching for her injured ankle. "May I?"
"Yes, of course." Delia extended her leg, still trying to process the rapid-fire introduction. "He looked... how did he look?"
Thessaly's fingers were gentle as she unwrapped the makeshift binding Ralvar had applied. "Like a man who had finally found something worth more than duty." She examined the swollen joint. "Like a man who would tear down these walls stone by stone if anyone tried to take it from him."
Heat crept up Delia's neck. "We've only known each other for a few days."
"Mmm." Thessaly pressed carefully along the ankle, testing the joint's range of motion. "And yet here you are. In his quarters. Wearing his scent like a second skin." Her eyes flicked up, knowing.
Delia's face went from warm to burning. "I didn't—we—"
"You don't owe me explanations." Thessaly's voice was warm.
"Orc women would understand perfectly. When the pull finds you, you don't fight it.
You follow it." She returned her attention to the ankle, producing a small jar from her satchel.
"This is a poultice for the swelling. I'll bind it fresh, and you should stay off it for several more days.
The bone isn't broken, but the injury is severe. "
"Ralvar said the same thing."
"He has good instincts." Thessaly began applying the poultice, the smell of herbs filling the air, sharp and green and oddly soothing. "He also has a wound in his side that he claimed was nothing to concern myself with when I examined him earlier."
Delia sat up straighter. "I stitched it. This morning. Is it—"
"Your stitches held beautifully." Thessaly sounded genuinely impressed. "Cleaner than some of my apprentices manage. Where did you learn?"
"Leatherwork. My uncle was a cobbler."
"Ah. Practical skills." Thessaly nodded approvingly as she wrapped fresh binding around Delia's ankle. "The mountain values practical skills. You'll fit well here."
The casual assumption made Delia's heart stutter. "You think I'm staying?"
Thessaly looked up at her, one brow raised. "You're his krenna. He announced it to his officers not an hour ago. The whole settlement knows." Her expression softened at whatever she saw on Delia's face. "Did you think he would hide it? Hide you?"
"I don't know what I thought." Delia's voice came out smaller than she intended. "This is all very new."
"New, perhaps. But not uncertain." Thessaly sat back on her heels, studying Delia with the same assessing gaze she'd used on the ankle.
"A woman does not give herself to a man the way you've given yourself to Ralvar unless she is certain of something.
Maybe not of forever. But of now. Of him. Of wanting."
Delia swallowed. "How do you know I—that we—"
"You smell like his satisfaction." Thessaly's voice was matter-of-fact but not unkind. "And he walked into his officers' meeting looking like a man who had touched the sun and survived."
Warmth bloomed in Delia's chest. He'd been happy. Visibly, obviously happy. Because of her.
Thessaly was watching her knowingly. "You care for him."
"I do." Delia hesitated. "He carries a lot of grief, doesn't he? The warriors he lost.""
"Yes,” the orc woman said sadly. “I was here when it happened. I helped carry the bodies home."
Delia's eyes burned. "He told me about them. What they were like. Not just how they died."
"Did he." It wasn't quite a question. Thessaly's gaze had sharpened again, assessing. "He doesn't speak of them. Not to anyone. The grief sits in him like a stone."
"He wept." Delia didn't know why she was saying this. Didn't know if it was a betrayal of confidence. But something in Thessaly's face told her this woman would understand. "When he told me. He wept."
Thessaly was very still for a long moment.
"Then you have already given him something precious," she said finally.
"Release. Permission to feel what he's been carrying alone.
" She began packing her satchel. "The pull doesn't make mistakes, you know.
It finds the one who can unlock what we've kept closed.
For Ralvar, that meant someone who could hold his grief without flinching.
Someone who could see his tears and not think him weak. "
"I would never think him weak."
"No." Thessaly smiled, rising to her feet. "I don't believe you would."
She moved toward the door, then paused, looking back.
"He's been in his officers' meeting for hours now. Handling patrol reports, coordinating responses to the guards who fled. Duty has always been his anchor." Her smile glinted with something knowing. "But I suspect he's been distracted. Thinking of something—or someone—waiting for him here."
Delia felt her cheeks warm again. "He said he might be gone for several hours."
"Several hours have passed." Thessaly's smile turned teasing. "And I've never known Ralvar to be long on patience when something he wants is within reach."
"He's been... patient with me."
"He's exercised restraint, which is different." Thessaly's smile turned knowing. "But now that you've welcomed him, I suspect his restraint is... somewhat diminished."
Before Delia could respond or even process the heat that flooded through her at the words, the door swung open.
Ralvar stood in the threshold.
He seemed to fill the entire doorway, his massive frame blocking the light from the corridor beyond.
His gaze found Delia immediately, sweeping over her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
She saw his nostrils flare slightly—scenting her, she realized, the way he always did—and hunger moved through his expression.
Then his gaze shifted to Thessaly, and impatience flickered across his features.
"Healer." His voice was low, rough. "You've finished?"
It wasn't really a question.
Thessaly's smile didn't waver. "Just now, Captain.
Your krenna's ankle will heal well with rest." She moved toward the door, slipping past him with the ease of long familiarity.
"I've left instructions for the poultice changes.
Changed every six hours. I trust you can manage without disturbing her too much. "
The emphasis on the last words was unmistakable.
Ralvar made a sound low in his chest, and the door swung shut behind Thessaly, though Delia could still hear her laughter echoing down the corridor.