Some women break quietly. Some orcs notice anyway.
Rowena Byrne has been running her family's ink shop on no sleep and stubborn pride for two years now, raising her wild-magic niece, dodging the tax collector, telling everyone she's fine. Asking for help isn't a thing she does. Needing it isn't either.
Then she collapses face-first in the middle of the market.
She wakes in the clinic of Kazrek Bloodfang. He's a battlefield medic turned village healer, six and a half feet of scarred green muscle and quiet attention, and he's decided she isn't leaving until she's actually whole.
So now there are lunches she didn't order. Repairs done while she sleeps. A massive orc fixing her broken shutter like it's the most important thing in Everwood. And the magic her niece isn't supposed to have is starting to bleed shadows.
Then someone paints a single word across her shop door.
TAKEN.
And Kazrek's hands stop being gentle.