Page 141 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I thought it would be simple.”

“Don’t apologize.” His voice cracked. “You did nothing wrong. The marks should be enough. Would be enough if my parents weren’t—” He stopped, his jaw working. “They planned for this. They knew I might find someone. That I might bond. So they made sure the Council would question it.”

I looked down at my wrist, proof of something true that no one would believe.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

Fred floated closer, bumping gently against Traig’s shoulder. Amanda’s crown flickered orange.

The scribe paced beside his truck outside, his phone pressed to his ear. Talking to people who’d already decided Traig wasn’t allowed to choose his own life.

“They can’t make you go back,” I said.

“They can. If I refuse, I lose everything. My name. Any connection to the kingdom. I’d be exiled.”

“Then we’ll⁠—”

“Willa.” He turned to face me. “I’ve spent my life trying to prove I was good enough. Useful enough. Worth keeping around. And none of it mattered because the only people whose approval I needed decided I wasn’t worth the effort of reaching out to me unless they wanted something.”

His voice broke.

“I thought the mark would make a difference,” he said. “I thought choosing you would finally be the one thing they couldn’t take away.”

“It is,” I said fiercely. “For me. For us. Fuck what they think. I mean it.”

I grabbed both his hands, holding tight.

“I don’t care what the Council says or what your parents planned for,” I said. “The marks appeared because we chose each other. Because I’m yours and you’re mine. That’s real, Traig. That’s the only thing that matters. If they don’t recognize it, we’ll fight.” The words came out steadier than I felt. “We’ll appeal. We’ll document everything. I think we should make so much noise they can’t ignore us. And if they still try to take you back?” I lifted our joined hands, pressing my marked wrist against his. “Then we’ll figure out what comes next together.”

“I could lose my name,” he said quietly. “My connection to the kingdom.”

“You’ll still have me.” My throat burned. “And your brothers. The rescue league. Our cottage and Fred bumping into things and Amanda eager to defend us. You’ll have a life you chose instead of one they assign to you.”

“Exile,” he said. “That’s what you’re talking about. Permanent exile.”

“I’m talking about choosing yourself.” I squeezed his hands. “Choosing us even if it costs you everything they think you should want.” I stiffened my spine. “But this decision is yours to make. Not mine.”

He stared at me for a long moment.

“No, it’s our decision to make,” he said. “We’re mated. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to mate someone my parents pick. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life proving I’m worth keeping when I know I already am. You love me as I am, and that’s enough for me.”

“Then we’ll tell the scribe that the Council can file their determination wherever they want. You’re staying here with your kavresh mate. And if they don’t like it?” My voice hardened. “They can come try to drag you back. I’m not letting you go, Traig. None of us are. I don’t care what laws they cite or how many generations of precedent they throw at us. You’re mine. That mark says so. And I’m keeping you.”

A half-laugh, half-sob escaped him.

“Alright,” he said. “We fight. We tell them the bond is real, that their arranged mating is void. If they want to contest a kavresh bond, they’re welcome to try.”

“Even if it means exile?”

“Even then.” His eyes held mine. “I’d rather be exiled with you than accepted without you.”

The door opened, and the scribe stepped back inside, his phone tucked away, his expression telling me nothing.

“The Council has reviewed the situation,” he said.

Traig stepped forward, taking me with him.