“He better hurry. The countdown will start any minute,” said Keir, checking his pocket watch.
A bonfire had been lit out on the lawn below, and most of the guests gathered around it for warmth as they waited for the show to begin. Rinka waited for Idris near the railing of the balcony, rubbing her bare arms and wishing she could join the crowd by the fire.
But someone had to lead the countdown, and if Idris didn’t show up soon, it might have to be her.
“Are we ready?” asked Idris, suddenly appearing from seemingly nowhere. He panted a bit, his shoulders heaving as if he’d just been running.
“Nearly there,” said Keir. “Get ready…steady…” Then he held up his hand. “Ten…nine…”
The others joined in, drawing the attention of the crowd below. “Eight…seven…”
The crowd cheered and joined in too. “Six…five…four…”
Idris wrapped his arm around Rinka’s waist. There was something in his hand.
“Three…two…one. Happy New Year!”
Right on queue, the fireworks erupted from near the river. They filled the sky with sparkles in red, white, green, gold, and blue.
It was magnificent. Rinka cheered with the crowd and then turned to Idris, remembering the fireworks from the summer.
He was down on one knee.
“Rinka—” he began, but she screamed, interrupting him.
“Oh my Gods,” said Alison from beside her, pulling Keir’s arm to turn him around to look.
“Rinka—”
Rinka jumped up and down, fine gown be damned. “Really? Really?”
She hugged Alison. She looked up at the fireworks.
She screamed again.
“Rinka—”
She fanned her face; her grey skin was going red from the flush of surprise. Her eyes had filled with tears.
She looked down at Idris, blinking the tears away.
Gods, she loved this man. He was such an idiot. He was so wonderfully absurd, such an incredible contradiction of chaos and authority and magic and silliness. He was the dark beauty of midnight as much as he was sunlight on a summer day. He would be the most powerful man in the world one day, perhaps, and Rinka would be his queen.
An orc for a queen. What an idea.
Rinka had barely let herself consider it before. Even after the summer had ended and it had become clear to her that there was more to them than just a passing fancy, she never truly thought it would last.
But Idris made anything feel possible. She knew she would never fit into high society. She had the skill to please a crowd, sure, but she could not fool herself. She would always be a common orc at heart.
But Idris made her feel like that was enough.
“Rinka,” said Idris once she had finally stopped squealing. “When you came crashing into my life, I could not have imagined how much you would change it. You have given me hope where I had none. You have given me purpose and strengthened my convictions. You have healed old wounds and taught me how to care. You have brightened all my days, so much so that my entire world looks dim without you.
“I don’t know what I can offer you. I know you care deeply about this world, and I know you want to see it better. I believecompletely in your ability to do so by yourself, but if you’ll have me, I would go to the ends of the earth to help you. I would do anything for you. I am yours to command.”
Rinka lost the ability to breathe. She had never heard Idris speak so sincerely for so long. Both of them usually cut through moments like this with a joke, something to stop the show of vulnerability, to hide away the deep and serious feelings where they would be safe.
She let the moment pass, let the words hang there between them. Real, genuine words with no jest or caveat or pretense.
