Page 26 of Till Orc Do Us Part
“Come back when you need more than numbers,” Cass says simply.
I leave without another word.
Outside, the gulls wheel silent against a bruised sky. The reporters still lurk at the main entrance, but I take a side path instead—walking alone beneath the whisper of salt-stained winds.
The compass is warm in my pocket.
And for reasons I cannot name, I do not let go.
Back at the trailer, the air feels too still.
The official blueprints lie where I left them—neat, perfect, untouched. The spreadsheets glare from the laptop screen, columns of profit margins and stakeholder reports.
Yet my gaze drifts past all of it… to the wall.
To Jamie’s map.
Still pinned beside my desk—childish lines, bright colors, names for places no architect would dream of.Sea Monster Cove.Hidden Bench of Smiles.Professor Chomp’s Lookout.
I reach into my pocket, fingers closing around cold brass.
The compass.
I turn it over in my palm. The cracked glass catches the light. Etched faintly along the rim:
North doesn’t always mean right.
A foolish sentiment. Yet one that will not leave me.
I glance at Jamie’s map again.
Slowly, deliberately, I reach for a pin. Press the compass to the wall—just beside the edge of the map where the boy’s careful scrawl readsThe Places We Save.
It holds there, gleaming dully against the paper.
I sit heavily in my chair.
And I wonder—when did this happen?
When did a boy’s drawing, a human woman’s stubborn fire, an old dryad’s riddle… matter more than glass towers and profit sheets?
I do not have the answer.
But I think I may want to find it.
CHAPTER 9
ROWAN
Ialmost miss it.
The day’s already been a blur—council flyers to print, poetry night posters to hang, a double shipment of used books from an estate sale to sort through. Jamie’s with Liara this afternoon so I can attack the chaos in the back room of The Gilded Page. I’m running on too little sleep and too much coffee.
By the time I get back to the shop after lunch, I’m dragging.
I nearly don’t check the mailbox.
But habit wins out.
