Page 4 of Till Orc Do Us Part
A faint curl pulls at the corner of my mouth. She’s wrong, of course. I prefer my metaphors cleaner.
But not her words. Not her presence. Something about it hums beneath my skin, uninvited.
I scowl and shove the blueprint aside.
A knock rattles the thin aluminum door of my trailer.
“Busy,” I call out.
Another knock. Softer this time.
I sigh, rolling my shoulders. "Come."
The door creaks open. A small figure steps inside—barefoot, curls wild, clutching a blue fabric-covered notebook to his chest.
The boy.
Rowan’s boy.
He stares up at me with wide, sea-glass eyes. Unafraid. Curious.
“Thought you might want this,” he says, holding out the notebook. “You dropped it.”
I blink, masking my surprise beneath practiced stillness. The notebook is mine—notes from today’s meetings, rough sketches, half a dozen legal threats I intend to ignore.
I rise from my chair, towering over him. “You followed me?”
“No,” he says. “Saw you leave it by the chair. I’m good at finding things.”
I study him. The resemblance is obvious—same stubborn chin, same quiet intensity. No hint of fear, even here, alone in my space.
“What’s your name?” I ask, voice low.
“Jamie.”
He says it like it’s obvious. I remember now—Rowan’s boy. The heart she fights for.
I take the notebook. “Thank you.”
He shifts from foot to foot, gaze flicking to the scattered blueprints across my desk. “Are those… buildings?”
I arch a brow. “They are.”
“Do you… name them?”
I blink. “No.”
“You should. Mom says things with names last longer.”
A huff escapes me—half a breath of amusement, too soft to count as a laugh. “Does she?”
He nods solemnly, stepping closer. “You’re big. Are all orcs this big?”
“In my clan, yes.”
“Why are you green?”
A pause. No one’s asked me that in decades.
