Chapter 6

6

MARIAH

T he heavy wooden door creaks as I push it open, revealing the interior of Orc's Anvil Brewing. A wave of warm, earthy scents washes over me—rich hops, roasted malts, and a hint of something distinctly orcish that I can't quite place.

Stepping inside, my eyes widen at the unexpectedly inviting taproom. Polished dark wood and gleaming brass fixtures catch the morning light filtering through stained glass windows. Intricate carvings of orcish symbols and fierce warriors adorn the exposed beams. It's a far cry from the dingy dive bar I'd imagined Thorak running.

"Mariah, you made it!" Thorak's deep voice echoes across the room as he strides towards me, a broad grin splitting his tusked face. His eyes are alight with what looks like genuine delight.

I'm once again struck by the dissonance between this passionate brewer and the bully from my past.

I force a smile. It doesn't matter. Whoever he's become, he's just a means to an end for me.

"Morning, Thorak. Quite the setup you've got here," I remark, gesturing at the rustic yet refined decor.

"Thanks, I've poured my heart into this place. Let me give you the grand tour!" He places a large, warm hand on the small of my back, guiding me towards the gleaming copper brew kettles.

Something deep inside of me warms at his touch. He's so much bigger than me that it feels like he could wrap one hand around my whole waist. I wonder if he could pick me up one-handed. Maybe use that strength to easily toss me on a bed?—

Gods.

It has clearly been too long since I've gotten laid if I'm having these sorts of thoughts about Thorak Ironfist. I viciously shove my inappropriate thoughts away.

We wind our way out of the taproom, through the brewery proper, and Thorak animatedly explains each step of the brewing process. His passion is palpable as he describes the locally sourced ingredients and unique techniques he employs.

"So, what's your annual production capacity?" I ask, gathering intel for our ruse. "And how are you handling distribution currently?"

"We're cranking out about five thousand barrels a year right now," Thorak replies, pride evident in his voice. "As for distribution, we've got a solid network of local pubs and restaurants, as well as specialty markets in the magical realm. But I haven't been able to break through to the human lands, and that's where Robert's investment comes in."

I nod thoughtfully. "And what about future plans? Any new brews or collaborations on the horizon?"

Thorak's face lights up with excitement. "Oh, I've got some ideas brewing, pun intended. Been experimenting with a new honey mead using nectar from the enchanted wildflowers in the forest. Plus, I'm in talks with the centaurs about a potential collab using their heirloom grains."

His enthusiasm is contagious, and for a moment, I forget why I'm here. I can't ignore the ember of respect kindling inside me. This is a Thorak I never knew existed.

As he speaks, Thorak's hand drifts from my back to my arm, his touch sending shivers down my spine. I mentally chastise myself for reacting to him this way again.

Stay focused, Mariah. This is all just for show.

We wrap up the tour and Thorak leads me back to the taproom.

"So, what do you think?" he asks, looking at me expectantly.

I look away, trying to collect my thoughts. "I have to admit, I'm impressed." It pains me to compliment him, but credit where credit is due. "You've built something really special here, Thorak. It's clear how much work you've poured into this place."

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "That means a lot, coming from you."

For a moment, we simply stand there, eyes locked. The air between us is charged with something I can't quite name. But then, the moment passes, and I'm left wondering if I imagined the whole thing.

"Well, I should probably head back to the inn," I say, breaking the silence. "Ecco's got a big performance tonight, and I promised I'd help her set up."

Thorak nods, his expression unreadable. "Of course. Thanks for coming by, Mariah. It means a lot to have your support in this."

Support. Right. Because that's all this is—a business arrangement, a means to an end. Nothing more. Thorak's paid the first half of the Mystic Pest bill, but there's another ten thousand dollars on the line still. The sooner we can convince Kingsley and end this charade, the better.

With a final nod, I turn and head for the door, my mind reeling with conflicting emotions.

Back at the Moonflower Inn, I find Ecco in the lounge, setting up for her performance. She looks every inch the siren, with her shimmering blue hair cascading down her back and her violet eyes dancing with mischief.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," she teases as I approach. "How was your little brewery tour with tall, green, and handsome? He still a monster in every sense of the word?"

This morning, before I headed to Orc's Anvil, I was overcome by uncharacteristic nerves. Even though I proposed this idea to Thorak, there is a huge part of me waiting for the rug to be pulled out underneath me.

He literally did that to me one time. So the wariness is appropriate.

But instead of letting myself spiral about it, I called Ecco and ended up coming clean to her about the whole arrangement. I needed the moral support. She was understanding about why I needed the money, although shocked about my methods. She talked my confidence back up and assured me she'd be the first person carrying a pitchfork if he crossed me again.

Now, I roll my eyes, trying to play it cool. "It was fine. Just gathering intel."

Ecco purses her lips. "Just don't let your guard down."

I sigh, sinking down onto one of the plush couches. "I don't know, Ecco. I thought I had Thorak all figured out, but seeing him today...he's different. More mature, more driven. And the way he looks at me sometimes..."

Ecco settles down beside me, her expression softening. "Hey, it's okay to be confused. But just be careful, okay? I would hate for you to get hurt by him again."

I nod, grateful for her concern. "I know. And I promise, I'm being cautious. Now, enough about my drama. Let's get this place ready for your big night!"

Together, Ecco and I set about transforming the lounge into a cozy, intimate performance space. We arrange the tables and chairs to create a clear line of sight to the small stage, where Ecco's microphone and keyboard await. I string up twinkling fairy lights along the walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the room.

The sun begins to set as the guests arrive for Ecco's performance. I watch from the back of the room as they filter in, a diverse mix of humans and magical creatures, all drawn by the promise of Ecco's enchanting voice.

Ecco takes the stage, looking radiant in a flowing, shimmering dress that seems to catch the light with every movement. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and begins to sing.

Instantly, the room is transformed. Ecco's voice weaves through the air like a gentle breeze, carrying with it a sense of peace and tranquility. The audience's shoulders relax and their faces soften, as if all their worries and cares have melted away.

Watching Ecco perform confidently in her element, I think back to all the times I've seen her struggle. Like the day when her powers first manifested, and she accidentally enchanted half our school's student body into following her around like lovestruck puppies. Or the time she got kicked out of the school choir because the director was afraid she'd steal the spotlight.

Through it all, Ecco never gave up on her music. She worked tirelessly to master her powers, to find a way to share her gift with the world without losing control.

And now, seeing her up on that stage, captivating the audience with every note, my chest swells of pride on her behalf.

Suddenly, a familiar figure catches my eye from across the room. Robert Kingsley stands near the entrance to the lounge, his usually stoic face softened by a hint of a smile.

I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. The man actually seems like he's enjoying himself, and at a magical performance, no less. He's tapping his foot along with the music, his eyes bright.

For a moment, I allow myself to hope. Thorak and my ruse could be easier to pull off than we'd anticipated. Maybe Kingsley is less of a bigot than we thought.

But then, as if sensing my gaze, Kingsley's eyes lock with mine from across the room. In an instant, his demeanor shifts. His smile fades, replaced by a look of flustered embarrassment. He straightens his tie, clears his throat, and quickly turns to exit the lounge, disappearing into the hallway beyond.

I sigh. Or not.

The sooner we get this business with Kingsley done, the better. I want to stop thinking about this.

And about a certain green monster who just happens to be built like a brick house.