Page 93 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

The cottage looked mated.

Willa’s coat hung beside mine by the door. Her boots sat next to my larger ones. Her coffee maker claimed space on the counter beside my tea kettle. But it felt wrong. Like I’d arranged furniture in a room I’d never actually lived in. Two tusk—tooth—brushes in the holder. Her bottles scattered across the counter in a way that made my organized brain itch. My single towel next to her blue one, the colors wrong together but somehow right.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

I’d spent three years building a life here, and now I had one night to prove I’d built something that mattered.

One night to prove Willa mattered.

“He’s here,” I said.

Willa appeared from the bedroom, smoothing her dress, the blue one she’d worn the other day.

“It’s going to be alright,” she said.

The knock came before I could respond.

He would see proof we shared a life.

Willa went to the door and opened it, her smile warm and natural. “Scribe Kelthren. Please, come in.”

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the entryway. Taking in everything.

She took his coat and hung it on an empty peg beside ours.

“Thank you,” he said.

He walked into the living room, settling in the chair I’d positioned for him, the ledger laid on his lap. His pen appeared, hovering over a blank page.

We sat on the sofa together.

“Your space is maintained with care,” he said, making a note. “How many turns of the moon have you shared this space?”

A trap question. If we were too specific, he’d verify dates. Too vague, and we’d look like we were hiding something.

“As we said, not long,” Willa said. “We’ve been⁠—”

“Settling in,” I finished. “Making it ours.”

The scribe’s pen moved across the page.

He set the ledger on a nearby table and stood, walking down the hall, stopping at the bathroom. He stepped inside and closed the door, then entered my—our—bedroom, returning and sitting to make another note.

“You’ve made space for her,” he said, looking at me. “In your closet. On your shelves.”

“Yes.”

“That required effort. Moving your belongings. Rearranging things.”

“She’s worth it.”

Willa’s breath caught.

“I’d like tea,” he told Willa. “Could you please prepare some for me?”

She nodded and headed for the kitchen.

I started to follow.