Page 27 of The Passionate Orc
"I had this entire speech planned," I began, my voice rougher than usual with emotion. "About how you make me feel like more than just a warrior. How you saw the artist in me when everyone else just saw the orc. How you laugh at my jokes even when they're terrible, which is most of the time."
Emryn laughed through her tears, the ring still clutched in her palm.
"But really, it comes down to this." I took her hand, the one holding the ring. "I love you, Emryn Lister. I want to paint withyou and eat spicy chicken with you and make you laugh for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?"
Time seemed to stop as I waited for her answer. My knee was aching, and a bug was definitely crawling up my sock, but I didn't dare move.
Emryn's face broke into the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. "Yes," she said, her voice firm and clear despite her tears. "Yes, I'll marry you, Nar Humperdink."
My hands were shaking as I took the ring from her palm, wiped it quickly on my napkin, and slid it onto her finger. Perfect fit.
I surged up from my kneeling position and lifted her from her chair, spinning her around as she laughed and cried at the same time. The fairy lights blurred around us as we turned, and for once in my life, I felt completely and utterly graceful.
"I love you," I murmured against her hair when I finally set her down.
She looked up at me, her eyes shining. "I love you too. Even if you did nearly make me swallow my engagement ring."
"Did I?" I feigned innocence. "Next time I'll just hand it to you like a normal person."
"Next time?" She raised an eyebrow, her arms still looped around my neck.
"Well, I've got to propose again in fifty years to renew our vows, don't I?"
Emryn rose on her tiptoes to kiss me, and as our lips met, I knew with absolute certainty that I'd found my forever.
Chapter 10
Emryn
I never imagined my wedding day would include a soaked veil, a leaking tent, and a storm that threatened to wash away the entire ceremony. But then again, I never imagined falling in love with an orc warrior who painted landscapes in secret either.
"Stop fidgeting with your hair, Em," my best friend Lila said, slapping my hand away from my curls. "The stylist will murder me if you mess up her masterpiece."
I glimpsed myself in the mirror. I pinned up some of my brown curls, leaving the rest to fall over my shoulders. The veil, a delicate piece of lace that had belonged to my grandmother, was secured with tiny pearl pins.
"Do you think Nar will like it?" I asked, my stomach doing that flippy thing it always did when I thought about my soon-to-be husband.
"Like it? Emryn, that orc is going to swallow his own tusks when he sees you."
The wedding planner, Veronica, poked her head into the tent. "Five minutes, ladies! The musicians are ready, and the guests are seated."
I took a deep breath. Six months ago, I'd met Nar at an art gallery where one of my paintings was being displayed. He'd been standing in front of it, so still and focused that I thought he was judging it harshly. Turns out, he was memorizing every brushstroke because he'd seen no one capture emotion through color the way I did. Two weeks later, he showed me his own paintings, a secret he kept from his clan. One month after that, he proposed.
"Ready?" my dad asked, appearing at the entrance of the tent. His eyes went misty when he saw me. "You look beautiful, sweetheart."
I smoothed down the front of my dress, a simple, flowing gown that complemented my petite frame without drowning me in fabric. "I'm ready."
They transformed the park by the river. Rows of white chairs lined either side of a flower-strewn aisle. On the left sat my family and friends—a sea of humans in bright colors. On the right, Nar's clan members, imposing orcs dressed in their finest, many wearing traditional Red Blade clan symbols. The contrast should have been jarring, but somehow, it felt right.
The music started—a melody that combined traditional orc drumbeats with classical strings, just like our two worlds coming together. As Dad and I began our walk, the wind picked up. I felt a tug at my head and watched in horror as my grandmother's veil lifted off my head, caught in a sudden gust.
"Oh no!" someone gasped as the delicate lace sailed through the air like a graceful ghost before settling gently onto the surface of the river.
For a second, everyone froze. I looked to where Nar stood at the altar, his broad shoulders tense, probably ready to dive into the river to retrieve it. But instead, I just shrugged and laughed.
"Guess Grandma wanted to be part of the river ceremony too," I called out.
My laughter broke the tension. Soon everyone was laughing, and Nar's shoulders relaxed, his tusked smile widening. His eyes never left mine as I continued down the aisle, veil-less but happier than I'd ever been.
