Chapter 7
Savla
Istared up at the ceiling of my bedroom, running my finger over the carving I still hadn’t been able to finish. For the life of me, I couldn’t get myself to carve whatever the orc was holding so carefully. So reverently.
Without meaning to, my mind flitted back to Hanna. I couldn’t stop myself. It had been like this for so long at that point that I didn’t know when it had first started.
All I knew was that I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of her at the most inopportune times. Staring up at the ceiling, I drifted in a dream-like state to the memory of when she’d come up to my rooftop.
Dristan had banished me there after I’d overcrowded my apartment with wood. He’d created a workshop for me on the rooftop and while I couldn’t articulate it, I was grateful beyond words. I’d always needed that. An escape. A place where I couldbe alone.
The day had been loud. Too loud. Between the new clan construction plans for homes that Dristan wanted in some tiny town north of Grebath, Krusk arguing about lumber costs, and Pen’s latest attempt to get me tosocialize more, I’d retreated to my rooftop workshop long before sunset.
The place was quiet—just me, the soft hum of the forge stones, and Ribbon snoring beside a half-finished project.
Peace, finally.
The night had gone still—one of those strange, peaceful hours where even the city seemed to take a breath. I’d been in my workshop, sanding down the hilt of a blade that wasn’t quite cooperating.
Then I heard it—the faint creak of the rooftop door opening.
No one came up here. Not unless they wanted to lose a finger to an accidental chisel slip---ornot so accidentalif I was being honest. I turned, half expecting one of my brothers or maybe Dristan. Instead, a familiar scent drifted through the air, followed by footsteps---light, careful.
Hanna.
Her hair was loose tonight, a tumble of dark curls that the breeze kept trying to steal. She wore one of those simple dresses she favored—soft fabric, green with faint traces of gold embroidery—but the color couldn’t disguise how pale she looked. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her shoulders tense, as if she were holding the entire world in place with her spine.
She stepped out slowly, her hair a little messy, her clothes wrinkled like she’d been holding herself together all day and finally stopped trying. She didn’t see me—not yet. She just stood near the edge of the rooftop, closing her eyes and breathing in the wind like it was the first deep breath she’d taken in hours.
My chest tightened.
The last time I’d seen her like this—fragile, shaken—she’dbeen tied up and held captive. Tasia’s ex-husband had dragged her into that cursed warehouse, using her as bait. I still remembered the way her voice shook when she told me to leave her and go. I didn’t, obviously.
Orcs don’t walk away from clan, and she was part of my clan.
More than that,my wretched mind whispered, but I shoved it to the side, as I always did.
She looked smaller now, but not broken. Just… tired.
I stayed where I was, watching her for a moment from the workshop doorway. I told myself it was to give her space. Truth was, I didn’t know what to say. Comfort wasn’t my skill set. My brothers talked. I fixed things.
But then she sighed—a soft, shaky sound—and that decided it for me.
I stepped out onto the roof. My boots scraped against the stone.
Hanna jumped, spinning around, her eyes wide. “Savla! I—I didn’t know anyone else came up here.”
“I do,” I said simply. “It’s my workshop.”
Her mouth fell open a little, then she flushed. “Oh. I—sorry. I just needed somewhere quiet. Everywhere just felt... crowded.”
I nodded. “It usually is.”
“I used to go for walks when I feel like this,” she told me with a shaky smile, because she understood that I knew why she felt like she couldn’t leave the protection of this building again.
She glanced inside, toward the tools and sketches scattered across my tables. “You made all of this?”
“Most of it.” I hesitated, watching her fingers trail absently over a carved wooden panel. “You can stay, if you want. I don’t bite.”
