Page 80 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

My head snapped up.

Brovish appeared in my doorway, Sofia perched on his shoulder.

“Have you heard from Willa?” he asked. “She’s not here yet.”

“No.” The word came out too flat. Empty.

Brovish studied my face for too long.

“She’ll be here,” he said. “You made the coffee.”

“Yes.”

“At dawn.”

“Yes.”

His expression softened. “That’s not nothing, Traig.”

“It’s just coffee.”

“It’s never been just coffee.”

He pushed off the frame, continuing down the hall.

As if on cue, Krem appeared in the doorway, holding his clipboard, his usual energy muted.

“The scribe arrives at noon,” he said. “Do you have a plan?”

I’d told them everything yesterday. Showed them the letter. Explained what would happen if I failed. They’d listened without interrupting, their faces growing more serious as I spoke.

“No,” I said.

Krem’s eyebrows rose. “That’s…not you.”

“You’re right.”

He made a note on his clipboard that I knew wasn’t actually about anything on whatever list he was compiling.

“It will work out,” he said quietly.

“You can’t know that.”

“No.” He met my eyes. “But I hope it will.”

He left.

I got up because sitting still was making my skin crawl. I needed to move.

A shadow filled my doorway.

Greth. He didn’t speak. Just stood there, his broad frame blocking the light from the hallway.

His look said he saw everything I was trying to hold together and knew exactly how close I was to breaking. He’d been there the night I’d bought the second chair. Helped me carry it in without asking why I needed two when I’d always eaten alone. He’d known then.

He nodded once and walked away, which was worse than anything anyone had said.

Before I could round my desk, Drogar burst through the door. He braced his hands on my desk, breathing hard.