The Orc Prince, towering and visibly overwhelmed, struggled to process everything. He had been hurt. Deeply. He had been confused, embarrassed, and blindsided.
But seeing the person he married, his supposed fragile bride, kneeling on the ground and begging with trembling hands, broke something inside him. This was the same person he had protected with everything he had, to the point he would not even let a small insect fly near her.
Yet here she, no, he was. Crying for him.
His green heart wavered.
The enormous orc leaned down, slowly, hesitantly, as if approaching something delicate. He reached out, just about to touch Silarion's face, when suddenly—
"No! I am your wife!" screeched the woman by the door like a banshee.
Her voice cracked into a pitch that shattered one of the lanterns.
Without thinking and in full rage, she threw a spiritual attack toward the kneeling figure.
The hall erupted in screams.
