Page 95 of Till Orc Do Us Part
We don’t speak.
We don’t need to.
The space between us is thick with everything unsaid—trust offered, fears still raw, something fragile and blooming that neither of us dares name.
His arm rests along the back of the swing, loose, unassuming. My fingers curl in my lap, knuckles pale.
The stars emerge, one by one.
Orion first, bold in the east. Then the softer scatter of the Pleiades, shimmering faint above the waves.
I lean back against the slats with a slow exhale. The swing shifts beneath me, wood warm from the day’s sun.
Beside me, Drokhaz mirrors the motion—silent, present.
Minutes stretch and spill, marked only by the hush of the sea and the creak of rope and beam.
And in that shared quiet, something inside me eases. Not gone. Not whole. But less sharp.
I steal a glance at him beneath the starlight.
He’s watching the horizon, mouth soft, brow uncreased. A man built of steel and story, sitting here like the simplest thing in the world.
Like home.
I face forward again.
We rock, side by side, into the dark.
No words.
No promises.
Just this.
And for tonight, that’s enough.
CHAPTER 28
DROKHAZ
The boardwalk hums beneath my feet.
It breathes.
A thousand voices rise and fall like the sea itself—laughter, shouts, the soft ring of steel on glass from vendor stalls. The air is thick with scent: fried fish, sweet kettle corn, fresh bread, charred spice that makes my mouth water despite the knot in my throat.
Lanterns hang like low stars, strung from timber poles newly planted into the boardwalk’s bones. Their light flickers warm across the crowd, painting every weathered face, every wide-eyed child, in gold.
Above it all, the sky stretches deep and clean—sable blue darkening to indigo at the edges, the first stars pricking through.
It is more than I imagined.
More than I thought I deserved.
I stand near the western edge beneath the old lighthouse beam—now restored, shining steady against the night. My arms cross instinctively, the faded wood cool against my back.
No suit. No shield.
