Page 62 of The Orc and the Innkeeper

Da grunts, but I catch the hint of approval in his eyes. “And what of children? Of carrying on the Ironfist name and legacy? Can a human even carry orc issues?”

Mariah’s face flushes again, and this time I do step in. “Da, with all due respect, that is between Mariah and I only. We’ve barely been together a month. It’s far too soon to be worrying about children and legacies. And if we do decide to have that conversation someday, we will be having it alone.”

Ma clears her throat delicately. “What your father means to say is that family is very important to us orcs. We want to make sure that Thorak’s partner understands and respects that.”

I can see Mariah relax slightly at Ma’s more diplomatic phrasing. She nods and says, “Of course. Family is important to me as well. Both my human family and my found family here in Elderberry Falls.”

“Ma, Da,” I interject, my voice steady despite the nerves coursing through my veins. “We know that this hasn’t been easy for you. Our relationship has forced you to confront some deep-seated beliefs you’ve held for your whole lives. But youneed to know that Mariah...she’s not just some passing fancy or rebellion against tradition. She’s the love of my life.”

My gaze locks with Mariah’s, who gives me an encouraging nod.

“Her kindness, her compassion, her strength—they’ve shown me what true love really means. She’s it for me, whether or not you accept us. But I hope you do.”

Da’s eyes soften, a glimmer of understanding breaking through the hardened exterior. His gaze shifts from me to Mariah, studying her as if seeing her for the first time. Slowly, he nods, a gesture so slight it’s almost imperceptible.

Beside him, Ma’s hand reaches out, tentatively bridging the gap between herself and Mariah. Her fingers brush against Mariah’s, a hesitant but sincere touch.

“We...we can see how much you love each other,” she says, her voice quiet but steady. “And I promise you that we’re trying. We have much to learn and unlearn. But we want to be in your lives.”

The tension in the room dissipates. Gruna beams, relief plain on her face. I feel a weight lift from my shoulders, the burden of years of conflict and misunderstanding beginning to ease.

Eventually, the evening draws to a close. I’m about to walk out with Mariah when my parents ask me to stay back. I shoot Mariah a look and she nods.

“Go ahead,” Mariah says softly, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll wait outside.”

With a parting smile, she slips out the front door, leaving me alone with my parents. I turn to face them, steeling myself.

Da clears his throat gruffly. “Son, we wanted to say that we’re sorry.” He looks me square in the eye, his expression earnest. “For how we’ve been stuck in our old ways, and for everything that happened with Ygra.”

Ma nods, her eyes glistening. “Seeing you with Mariah tonight, the way you look at each other...it’s clear that your love is real and true. I can’t apologize enough for going around your back with Ygra.”

Da steps forward, pulling something out of his pocket. “We wanted to give you this, for whenever you might need it. It’s yours to use as you see fit.”

He opens up his palm and sitting on it is the family heirloom engagement ring, the same one that they had given to Ygra. But they’ve made changes to it. The orcish swirls and designs in the metal band remain the same but they’ve swapped the gem out…to a diamond.

They’ve taken our family ring and altered it to include a human tradition.

My throat suddenly tightens and I clear it gruffly.

I reach out and gently grab the ring from my father’s hand, sliding it into my own pocket. But before I can respond, Da pulls me into a brusque hug, so unnatural for him.

And then he utters words I’ve been waiting years for him to say. “I’m proud of you, son.”

29

MARIAH - SIX MONTHS LATER

Istand at the front desk of the Moonflower Inn, a smile on my face as I survey the bustling lobby. The air hums with an electric new energy—the guests chatting animatedly on the plush armchairs, nursing steaming cups of moonflower tea; the line forming at the reception desk as new arrivals wait to check in; the stack of comment cards on the counter, each one filled with glowing praise.

A swell of pride rises through me, buoying me like a gentle breeze. We’re booked solid for the next three months, a first for the Moonflower. Word has spread about Ecco’s spellbinding performances and they’ve been selling out every week. People have been coming to stay just to see her, since guests get first dibs on tickets.

We’ve even had a new influx of human guests, fans of Thorak’s ales who are making a pilgrimage to Elderberry Falls to visit the brewery in person.

Lost in my reverie, I almost don’t notice the familiar figure approaching the front desk until he clears his throat quietly. Iblink. Robert Kingsley stands there, a sheaf of papers clutched in his hands, his posture relaxed and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Robert, what a lovely surprise!” I greet him warmly, my curiosity piqued at his unexpected appearance.

The Kingsley I knew seven months ago was stiffer than a petrified redwood, his suit always crisp and countenance severe. But the man before me now has a softer edge, from the easy slope of his shoulders to the gentle upward curve of his lips.

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