Page 14 of The Orc's Protection
“Of course, of course. Security duties.” Grulk’s voice follows me. “But when you decide to pursue her, come find me. HammerFall has successful human-courtship advice to share!”
His laughter echoes as I stride away, my thoughts far less orderly than I prefer. His mention of courtship lodges uncomfortably, refusing to be dismissed as easily as it should. I’ve been trained to maintain boundaries. Yet my instinctive reaction to Grulk’s teasing wasn’t denial of attraction but denial of traditional intent, a distinction I am not prepared to examine.
I complete my afternoon rounds without returning to the kindergarten wing. The poncho is still in her classroom. It can stay there.
School dismissal begins in controlled chaos—voices rising, backpacks swinging, teachers herding small bodies toward the correct exits. I position myself near the main hallway, monitoring the traffic flow as classes merge and separate. Ms. Walker’s students emerge last, still buzzing with end-of-day energy. She walks backward a few steps, guiding them toward the buses. “Remember, walking feet,” she calls, smiling despite the noise.
A sudden shout breaks through the din. One of the children barrels past her, momentum unchecked. Ms. Walker pivots instinctively to intercept—too fast—and stumbles, her footing going out from under her.
I am already moving. My hand closes around her elbow, steady and sure, arresting her fall before she can pitch forward. Thecontact is brief but immediate. Heat flares along my arm, sharp and startling, like a current snapping through muscle and bone.
She stills. So do I.
For half a breath, we are very close. Her hand braces against my chest. I am acutely aware of the warmth of her palm through the fabric of my uniform, the faint hitch of her breath as she looks up at me.
“Are you alright?” I ask, my voice low and filled with concern.
“Yes, yes,” she says quickly, though she doesn’t move away at once. Her fingers curl slightly, as if she hasn’t quite registered where they are. “Thank you. I… I couldn’t catch my balance.”
“You’re steady now,” I say. The words are unnecessary. We both know it.
She steps back, color rising in her cheeks. “Good reflexes,” she adds lightly, attempting normalcy.
“It was nothing,” I reply. It was not nothing.
After she and the children walk away, a throat clears nearby. “Well,” Grulk says mildly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, “that was interesting.”
I release a slow breath and turn toward him. “Child safety requires attentiveness.”
Grulk’s tusks show as he grins. “Sure. But that wasn’t a child.”
“She was at risk of falling.”
“Mm,” he hums. “Funny thing is, teachers trip all the time.” I say nothing. “Never seen you treat it like a battlefield rescue before.”
“Standard response.”
Grulk chuckles. “No. That was instinct.”
I fold my arms. “You are speculating.”
“Am I?” He tilts his head. “You leaned in. Squared up. Went still.”
“That is posture.”
“That,” Grulk says cheerfully, “is interest.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “This conversation is over.”
“Of course it is,” he agrees. “For now.”
As Ms. Walker returns to her classroom, our eyes meet briefly.
Something unspoken passes between us.
Grulk follows my gaze. “She felt it.”
“That is speculation.”
