A collective gasp sucks the air out of the village.
A tusked, green-skinned Orc warrior, clad in black armor, is kneeling in the snow at my feet.
"Threk?" I whisper, my face burning.
"In my people's ways, this is not *formal," he says, his deep, clear voice rumbling across the silent square. "But I have learned... in yours... this is the custom."
He looks up at me, his hazel eyes blazing with a love so fierce it steals my breath.
"Betty. You are my world. You are my light. My star. Will you be my mate?"
The words... they are too much.
Happiness. Love. A future.
He is offering me everything I never thought I could have.
And my guilt, the black, ugly, final antagonist I still carry, rises up and chokes me.
I recoil. I rip my hand from his, stumbling backward, away from the bonfire, away from his hope, away from the staring villagers.
"No," I gasp, my hand flying to my hair, twisting, pulling. The old, familiar panic is here. "I can't."
"Betty?" His voice is broken, confused. He stands, his face a mask of pain.
"I can't!" I sob, backing away. "Don't you see? I killed them! My family! My mother, my brother... they burned because of me! Because I was a fool!"
The words pour out of me, the poison I have held in for years, now spilling all over the Christmas snow.
"I don't deserve this!" I cry, hitting my own chest. "I don't deserve love! I don't deserve happiness! I am a curse, Threk! I touch things and they die! Joric... you... I almost got you killed! I made you sacrifice yourself!"
I look at him, this beautiful, whole, perfect orc, and all I see is another person I will destroy.
"I'm afraid," I whisper, my voice raw. "I'm so afraid. If I say yes... if I am happy... the world will take you from me, too. To punish me. It's what I deserve."
He doesn't let me run.
He crosses the snow in two strides. He takes my hands, his grip firm, pulling my fingers from my hair. He holds me, forcing me to look at him.
"You think your life is penance?" he says, his voice low and fierce. "My life was a cage. A red darkness. Screaming. Pain. Every day."
He shakes his head. "You did not kill your family, Betty. The elves did. Larda did. Hate them. Do not hate yourself."
"But I?—"
"You think you do not deserve happiness?" he interrupts, his voice breaking. "You are the only happiness I have ever known. You are my light. My star."
His hands cup my face, his palms green and warm against my frozen, tear-stained skin.
"You did not bring me death. You found me dying. You gave me life. You gave me my mind. You gave me my name."
He leans in, his hazel eyes pleading. "You are not afraid you will lose me. You are afraid to be happy. I am afraid, too. I am afraid to be Namir. I am afraid to be this." He gestures to himself. "But I am not afraid with you."
He touches his forehead to mine.
"You told me about Christmas. A time for wishes. Your wish was for me to be free. Now I have a wish."
He pulls back, just enough to see my eyes.
