Page 53 of The Orc's Protection
And I wait to see if she comes to find me.
The children are louder than usual in the afternoon, restless with anticipation of the Harvest Festival. At one point, the classroom door swings open and stays open—three children pass through without touching it. Theo, last in line, pulls it shut behind him. Not because anyone asked. He tests the handle once to confirm the latch caught, then looks up and finds me watching from the hallway. He gives me a single nod. I return it.
It is the best part of my day.
Riona finds me at the east entrance at 3:58, checking the lock on the exterior gate for the second time.
“Vraag.”
“Ms. Walker.”
A pause. I keep my attention on the gate latch.
“Don’t do that,” she says. Her voice is quiet but direct. “You were different all day. I’d like to know why.”
I release the gate and face her. The parking lot is emptying around us, cars pulling out, a few teachers passing at a distance. No Janet.
“I heard you this morning,” I say. “In the lounge. With Janet.”
Something moves through her expression—not guilt, not surprise exactly. Recognition. She knows immediately what I mean and which part of it landed.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
She doesn’t rush to defend herself. I watch her consider the words, turning them over with the same care I gave them all day.
“I was managing Janet,” she says finally. “Not distancing myself from you. If I’d confirmed anything, it would have been in every inbox in this building before nine. I was buying us time, not selling you out.”
“I understand the reasoning.”
“But,” she says. Not a question.
“But understanding reasoning is not the same as not hearing what I heard.”
She nods slowly. “Through your ears,” she says. “It sounded as if I were ashamed of you.”
“It sounded like you weren’t prepared to claim me.” The words come out more precisely than I intend them to. “In daylight. In front of someone who would not approve.”
She’s quiet for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is careful. “I’ve been managing how people see things my whole life,” shesays. “I’m good at it. Sometimes I don’t notice I’m doing it until after.” She meets my eyes. “That’s not an excuse.”
She says it without flinching. No defense layered beneath the apology, no qualifying. Just: I was wrong and I’m sorry.
Something in my chest loosens slightly.
“In StoneWatch tradition,” I say carefully, “a claim that cannot be spoken in daylight carries no weight. What is kept only in darkness belongs to darkness.”
She meets my eyes. “Then let me be clear. I’m not ashamed of you. I’m not hedging. I’ll say that to Janet, to Winters, to whoever needs to hear it. The truth is, I’m still learning how to protect both of us at once, and this morning I got the balance wrong.”
“That’s not what I need,” I say.
“The public declaration?”
“I don’t need you to announce us in the parking lot.” I hold her gaze. “What matters is knowing you won’t disappear when it costs something. That when the weight of this gets heavy, and itwillget heavy, you won’t retreat to the version of things that’s easier to explain.”
She’s quiet for a moment.
“I defended you to Principal Winters,” she says. “You were in the hallway. You heard it. I told her she was wrong about you whenit would have been much easier to stay quiet.” She pauses. “What does that count for?”
