Page 23 of The Orc and the Innkeeper

MARIAH

Kingsley heads out and I turn to face Thorak. Gone is his usual confident smirk, replaced now by a somber, almost vulnerable expression that catches me off guard. He takes a deep breath, his striking eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.

“Mariah, I...” His deep voice is low and earnest, tinged with an unfamiliar hesitancy. “I want to apologize. Properly. For how I treated you growing up.”

I blink in surprise, my mind struggling to process his words. Is this really happening? An apology, after all these years?

He forges ahead, refusing to break eye contact. “I’m not going to make excuses for my behavior. Nothing can justify the pain I caused you.” Thorak swallows hard, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. “I was an asshole. A complete and utter asshole. I’m not that guy anymore, and for years, it’s eaten away at me, knowing the suffering I inflicted on you.”

Tears sting my eyes as I listen in stunned silence. I never expected this—never thought Thorak would dredge up our painful history, let alone acknowledge the hurt that still simmersbeneath the surface. But the genuine remorse shining in his eyes, how his usual gruffness has given way to raw sincerity...it shows me just how much he’s grown.

How much he’s changed.

“Thank you,” I manage to whisper, my voice soft and unsteady. “For the apology. I...I appreciate it.”

Thorak nods, a flicker of relief crossing his face. I try to sort through my jumble of emotions—the lingering resentment, the budding warmth, the undeniable attraction that seems to grow stronger with each passing moment.

I wanted to keep things simple between us, a straightforward business arrangement with no messy feelings involved.

But now? With the memory of our searing kiss still fresh in my mind, the way my body responded so eagerly to his touch, and this heartfelt apology adding a new layer of complexity... maintaining that clear-cut separation is getting harder by the second.

My head spins with doubts and questions as the careful walls around my heart begin to crack and crumble. I’m losing my grip on the defenses I’ve so meticulously built.

Just as I’m about to speak again, Thorak slides a small box across the table towards me. I look at him in confusion, but he just nods encouragingly, urging me to open it.

With trembling fingers, I lift the lid and gasp at what I see inside.

Nestled on a bed of black velvet is a delicate silver chain with a familiar, intricately carved pendant. The pendant is a beautiful, iridescent stone that seems to glow with an inner light, catching the rays of the sun streaming through the window and scattering them in a dazzling display of color. It’s breathtaking, and for a moment, I’m speechless.

I thought this was lost forever.

As I stare at the necklace, my mind is flooded with memories.

I remember the day my grandmother gave it to me, the words she said as she fastened it around my neck. “This has been in our family for generations,” she’d told me, her voice soft and full of emotion. “I want you to have it, Mariah. To remember that no matter what, you always have a piece of us with you.”

My fingers tremble as I lift the necklace from the box, the cool metal both foreign and achingly familiar against my skin.

The happy memory is quickly overshadowed by a darker one, a moment from high school that I’ve tried so hard to forget.

I was walking down the hallway, the necklace glinting at my throat, when suddenly Thorak’s friend Zara appeared in front of me, a cruel sneer twisting her beautiful face.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, her violet eyes glinting with malice. “What do we have here?”

Before I could react, she reached out and grabbed the necklace, yanking it roughly from my neck. I cried out in pain and shock, my hand flying to my throat as I tried to stop her. But she was too fast, dangling the necklace in front of my face with a vicious smirk.

“This is what you call jewelry?” she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “It’s nothing but a cheap, tacky piece of human trash.”

I felt hot tears stinging my eyes as I watched helplessly, unable to stop her as she threw the necklace to the floor and ground it under her boot. The crunch of metal and stone was like a physical blow, and I felt like a piece of myself had been destroyed along with the necklace.

“Oops,” Zara said with mock innocence, brushing her hands together as if to wipe away the evidence of what she’d done. “How clumsy of me.”

She turned and walked away, leaving me standing there crying in the hallway. Through my tears, I saw Thorak standing nearby, watching the whole thing unfold.

My stomach churned with the sickening certainty that he orchestrated this, that he was reveling in my pain and humiliation.

I turned and ran, my chest heaving with sobs as I fled down the hallway. The fluorescent lights blurred and spun around me, and I could barely see where I was going. My throat burned with shame and anguish, the broken pieces of my necklace—and my heart—left shattered on the linoleum behind me.

“That moment with Zara was a turning point for me,” Thorak says now, his deep voice wavering with emotion. “I’ve never gotten that look on your face out of my mind. I realized then that things had gone too far. The cruelty, the bullying—it needed to stop.”

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