Page 6 of The Orc and the Innkeeper

Mr. Kingsley eyes him warily. “Your operation will need to scale up, though, if you want to distribute widely. Are you prepared for that?”

“Absolutely,” Thorak assures him. “The brewery’s ready for expansion.”

I feel a twinge of...something. Is it admiration? For Thorak, of all people? Absolutely not. I shove another piece of scone in my mouth.

Mr. Kingsley sniffs. “Well, I’ll want to talk to the human in charge of your business development matters, of course.”

I shake my head. This man is so predictable and small-minded.

Thorak frowns. “I’m sorry if there was a miscommunication, Robert, but I run my own business development.”

It’s the wrong answer, clearly. Mr. Kingsley’s eyes narrow. “There aren’tanyhumans on your staff who can be our intermediary? I really would prefer to interface with someone who understands humans and human business matters. I think it may be a little over your head.”

The gall of this guy is astounding. I have half a mind to kick him out of the inn.

Thorak’s jaw drops momentarily and then he shakes the shock off his face, back to business. “No humans on staff,but uh…” He scans around the room, as if searching for a satisfactory response to this prejudice.

We lock eyes and my face flushes. I’ve been caught snooping.

He glances back to Mr. Kingsley. “My fiancée is human.”

My scone gets stuck in my throat and I cough, loudly, spraying crumbs across the table.

Thorak Ironfist, the bane of my high school existence, with a human fiancée? Thorak, who once told me humans were the most inferior species on the planet? Who had half of our grade feigning that they smelled something awful every time I walked into a room?

There’s no way Thorak, with all his disdain for humans, has a human fiancée.

No way.

But as I grab a napkin and wipe down the table, an almost definitely awful idea begins to form in my head.

3

THORAK

The words slipped between my tusks before I could stop them.

“My fiancée is human.”

Gods above. Why would I say that?

I glance back over to Mariah, who is inelegantly coughing up her scone at a table in the corner. Even red-faced and wheezing, she’s beautiful. Always has been.

If I wasn’t sitting directly across from the man who holds my brewery’s future in his hands, I would get up and bolt out of here before I could make even more of an ass out of myself in front of her. Mariah’s seen enough idiocy from me to last a lifetime.

“Really?” Robert’s eyebrow quirks up, a challenge in his gaze.

I grunt an affirmation and nod. Just digging myself into an ore-deep hole now.

But truthfully, I would say and do anything to get Robert to agree to distribute my ales. And it is very, very clear that this prejudiced man will not agree to do business with me unless he thinks that there’s a human somewhere behind the scenes, acting as the brain behind my brawny muscle.

Still.Human fiancée. I don’t have a girlfriend anymore, let alone a fiancée, let alone a human one.

Maybe I’m as dumb as he clearly thinks I am.

My only explanation is that this entire morning—one unending series of disasters—addled all the sense out of my damned brain.

The day started badly when I was awoken by ten panicked texts and a series of missed calls from my sister Gruna. After figuring out that something was up at the brewery, I hightailed it over there still half-asleep and groggy.

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