Page 28 of Cider, Spice & Orcish Nights

THORNAK

I ’ve been cursing under my breath the whole godsdamned way down the ridge.

Leaves scatter in startled bursts as I stalk through the orchard edge, still warm from hurrying.

My lungs burn from more than just the climb, the ache deep in my chest a raw, scraping thing that’s only grown sharper with every step closer to her.

I’m later than I meant to be—later than I ever should’ve been.

And it gnaws at me like teeth. I’d planned to be early, to stand there stiff and awkward in this shirt she sewed with her clever little hands, to watch the lanterns light up one by one while she fussed over last-minute bundles of rosemary.

To hold her hand the whole while so she’d know there wasn’t a chance in any realm I’d bolt.

But fate had its own ideas. That damned dwarf peddler’s cart went off the narrow ridge track halfway to Elderbridge, axle snapped clean, barrels of apples spilling everywhere.

Couldn’t leave an old dwarf and two terrified mules stranded, even if my gut was roaring to keep going.

So I heaved the cart near single-handed back on solid ground, loaded it tight, grunted through a thousand breathless thank-yous, then practically ran the rest of the way down.

Now I pause just inside the orchard, chest heaving, shirt clinging to my shoulders where sweat cooled fast in the evening air.

It’s that green shirt she made me, the one with vines embroidered along the cuffs in careful, wandering stitches.

My big hands keep tugging at the sleeves, trying not to tear them out of sheer nerves.

Because gods, she made this. With her tiny needle pricks and worried heart stitched into every line. And I’m about to step out in front of half the village and claim her loud enough that not even a band of fae could doubt what she is to me.

Lanterns float above the orchard rows, bobbing in little enchanted clusters that send warm gold spilling over everything.

I spot gnomes from the mill and old Mr. Griggs in his too-small waistcoat, kids darting around with sugared plums on sticks.

Everyone’s turned to face the wide aisle of grass under the biggest oak where she set up the ceremony.

Except there’s no sign of her.

My stomach drops. I take one step forward, then another, heart pounding harder than it ever did facing down beasts twice my size.

And then I see her.

She’s halfway to the edge of the orchard, skirts caught up in one hand like she’s fleeing.

Her shoulders shake, curls tumbling free from whatever careful pins she fussed them into, like she’s been running her hands through them in worry.

For a heartbeat I just stand there, everything inside me cracking wide open.

Then I start moving.

People shift out of my way quick—some from respect, others because they’d rather not get steamrolled by an orc built like two barrels stacked. I don’t stop to nod or mutter greetings. Don’t slow when a nervous elf tries to offer me a little cup of cordial. I’ve only got eyes for her.

“Maddie!”

She freezes like a startled doe, her head snapping up. Tears streak her face, catching lantern light in tiny wet rivers that nearly undo me on the spot.

“Oh stars above, Thornak.” Her voice breaks, cracking right down the middle. “I thought—you weren’t?—”

“Couldn’t get here sooner.” I’m breathless, rougher than I mean to be, but it’s because my throat’s too tight to speak soft. “Helped a dwarf with a busted cart. Ran all the way. Was terrified I’d miss this. Miss you. ”

Her shoulders tremble, relief crashing over her so fierce she covers her mouth like she’s afraid of sobbing.

I reach her in three long strides, drop to one knee right there in the grass, heedless of dew soaking through the fine fabric she fussed so long to stitch. My big hands fumble for hers, curling around them tight, trying to anchor both of us.

The crowd’s gone quiet. I can feel their eyes, all of Harvest Hollow craning to see. Normally that’d set every hackle I’ve got on end. But right now, it doesn’t matter.

Because I want them all to hear. Every last one.

I take a shuddering breath. Lift her hands so I can press them to my chest, right over the pendant she gave back to me this morning so I could wear it close.

“This is my heart,” I say, voice raw. “Right here. All tangled up with yours. Thought for the longest damned time I wasn’t fit to keep anything so bright.

Thought I’d ruin it. But you—Maddie, you’ve made me want forever more than I ever thought I could.

So I’m askin’—not quiet, not in secret. Right here where the whole town can hear it: will you keep it?

Will you keep me, every rough edge and scar, for all the seasons we’ve got left? ”

Her mouth drops open, tears spilling fresh, but there’s a laugh tangled in them now—soft and breathless, like relief’s broken loose at last.

“Oh Thornak. Of course I’ll keep you. Been yours since the first moment you grumbled about my crooked pie crusts. And if you think I’m ever letting go, you’re dafter than a drunk pixie.”

I let out a choked laugh that surprises us both, then surge up to catch her around the waist, lifting her clean off the ground. She squeals, arms flying around my neck, pressing her tear-wet face into my temple.

All around us, the orchard seems to sigh, lanterns dipping low as if they’re leaning in to listen.

And then—like the fae themselves decided to bless it—a swirl of tiny gold leaves rises from the grass, twirling up in little warm eddies that dance around us.

They catch in her hair, cling to my shoulders.

The crowd lets out a soft, collective sound, half gasp, half sigh of delight.

A local priestess steps forward, eyes crinkling with quiet joy. “Shall we finish this proper?” she says, voice warm.

I grunt, one hand still firm on Maddie’s back. “Aye. Let’s do it before she changes her mind.”

“Never,” Maddie breathes, cupping my cheek so her thumb strokes just under my eye. “Not if you asked me a thousand more times.”

We say our vows again, this time sure and clear. Mine rough, hers bright and trembling. When it’s done, I pull her in and kiss her like we’re the only two fools left in the orchard.

And as the lanterns bob overhead, fae leaves spiraling slow all around us, I think maybe this is what every path through every forest was leading me to all along.

Home.

Right here, in her hands.