Page 64 of Her Orc Protector

He raised an eyebrow. "Thinking's dangerous on moving day. That's how people end up re-packing the same kettle three times."

I huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. "Is that what happened to you? Because I distinctly remember watching you wrap that blue mug twice."

"That was deliberate," he said with mock seriousness. "Extra protection for your favorite cup."

We turned onto River Lane, the cottage just ahead now. I tried to focus on that—our new home, our fresh start—rather than the conversation I'd had at the Hearth Office just yesterday. The clerk had called it a “Complaint of Magical Coercion, Class Two,” enough to trigger a formal inquiry and compel Gavriel’s response under truth-binding. The summons would be delivered within two days.

If Gavriel didn’t respond, a warrant could follow. If he did, I’d have to face him in council chambers. But either way, it was no longer a secret tucked behind my ribs.

I thought filing the complaint would feel like a victory. Instead, I mostly felt raw. Exposed. But beneath the ache of it, something steadier burned—a quiet certainty. I hadn’t just waited for the blow to fall. I’d struck first.

Uldrek lowered his voice enough to let me know he wasn't really joking anymore. "You did the right thing, Issy. Doesn't mean it won't feel like your bones are made of glass for a few days. That's just fear catching up."

I swallowed hard. "I hate that he gets to follow me into this. Into our home."

"He's not walking through that door," Uldrek said firmly. "Not unless you invite him. And somehow, I doubt you're planning a tea party."

That earned a real smile, brief but genuine. I was still afraid—that wouldn't disappear overnight—but I wasn't alone in it anymore.

A cat slipped across our path, pausing to consider us with imperious yellow eyes before continuing on its way. From a nearby garden, an elderly woman waved, calling out a cheerful greeting. The normalcy of it all seemed to clash against the tension I carried in my chest.

Ellie stirred against me, her teething ring slipping from her grasp. Uldrek caught it before it hit the ground.

"That's the second time she's thrown this at me today," he said, tucking it safely back into the sling. "What'd I do?"

"Maybe she's practicing for when she's older and can really tell you what she thinks," I suggested and was rewarded with his laugh—a sound that still surprised me with how much I'd come to need it.

We reached the cottage a few minutes later. Uldrek set down his end of the cart and reached into his pocket for the key. It turned in the lock with a satisfying click, and he pushed the door open.

"After you," he said, and something in his voice made me pause.

This wasn't like our previous visit, when we'd been considering possibilities. This time, we were stepping into something real. Something ours.

"Should we bring everything in first or start unpacking as we go?" I asked, surveying the empty space.

Uldrek was already heading back to the cart. "First sorting, then chaos."

We worked steadily for the next hour, bringing in crates and bundles and setting them around the main room in rough groupings. Uldrek carried in the larger pieces—a table and chairsthat Edwin had given us, a small chest of drawers for Ellie's things, the bedframes that would need to be reassembled.

I watched him set down a crate marked "kitchen" with surprising gentleness, then carefully unwrapped my chipped blue mug and set it on the counter. Seeing it there—this small, imperfect thing that had followed me from Tinderpost House—made my throat tighten unexpectedly.

When I opened the trunk containing Ellie's belongings, the feeling intensified. Her blankets, books, and worn wooden toys lay nestled together, each item carrying memories of the past weeks. I smoothed a hand over the soft fabric of her favorite sleep blanket, then began arranging her things in her room.

A soft knock at the door announced Hobbie's arrival. She entered without waiting for an answer, arms laden with bundles of herbs and twists of woven charm-thread.

"Windows need protection," she announced, setting her bundles on the table. "And doorframes. And cradle, again."

"Thank you, Hobbie," I said, watching as she immediately set to work, stringing charms above windows and tucking protective herbs into the cracks between floorboards. I'd learned not to offer help with such tasks—Hobbie preferred to work alone, muttering incantations under her breath that sounded more like scolding than magic.

"The spare room is ready whenever you want to see it," I told her as she finished with the front windows. "We brought in that small bed from Tinderpost."

Hobbie gave an indignant sniff. "No beds. Beds creak. Baskets don't."

"Baskets?" Uldrek repeated, pausing in his work of assembling the table.

"Round one. With wool. Near the child." Hobbie's tone suggested this was perfectly obvious.

"You want to sleep in a basket?" I clarified. "In Ellie's room?"

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