Page 32 of The Orc's Protection
Chapter Twelve
Riona
Monday morning arrives with the harsh fluorescent reality of school life, a stark contrast to the starlight and drumbeats of Saturday night. I catch myself smiling as I arrange worksheets on my desk, remembering the weight of Vraag’s arms around me and the surprising softness of his lips against mine.
“Someone’s cheerful this morning.”
I look up to find Janet from first grade leaning against my doorway, coffee mug in hand and curiosity etched across her face.
“Just enjoying the start of a new week,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral despite the warmth creeping up my neck.
Janet’s eyebrow arches skeptically. “Mmm-hmm. Nothing to do with being spotted at the gas station Saturday night with our security specialist? In that truck?”
My stomach drops.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant to teaching kindergarten,” I say, unable to hide the irritation in my voice.
Janet raises her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. That ceremonial whatever-it-was he was wearing was certainly something,” she pauses, and something in her expression says she’s still processing what she saw at that gas station. “He’s not what I expected. I just thought you should know people are asking questions.”
After she leaves, I take a deep breath, trying to focus on preparing for my students. Vraag and I knew this would be challenging. We’d spent Sunday afternoon on the phone discussing how to handle our changing relationship professionally, agreeing to maintain appropriate boundaries at school while we figured things out.
Easier said than done when the memory of his kiss still makes my knees weak.
The warmth of his hands at my waist lingers like a phantom touch, my skin remembering what my mind insists I set aside.
Every time I close my eyes, I’m back on that terrace beneath the stars, and I have to force myself back into the classroom.
The door opens again, and my heart jumps, Principal Winters.
“Good morning, Riona,” she says with the careful pleasantness that usually precedes difficult conversations. “Do you have a moment to stop by my office before the students arrive?”
“Of course,” I agree, my pulse jackrabbiting. “Is everything okay?”
“Just a few matters to discuss,” she says vaguely. “Ten minutes?”
As I follow her down the hallway, I spot Vraag at the end of the corridor, conducting his morning security check. Our eyes meet briefly, and though his expression remains professionally neutral, the intensity in his gaze sends a shiver of awareness through me. His gaze holds mine a half-second longer than a security check requires before he turns away, resuming his patrol.
In Principal Winters’ office, I take the offered seat, noting the careful arrangement of her expression—concerned but trying to appear casual.
“Riona, you’ve been with us for three years now,” she begins, folding her hands on her desk. “You’re one of our most promising teachers, and the children adore you.”
“Thank you,” I say cautiously. “I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
She sighs, dropping the pretense. “I’ve received some… concerns about your relationship with Mr. Vraag.”
Even though I anticipated this, hearing it stated so directly knocks the breath from me for a moment. My fingers curl instinctively around the stone at my throat. The weight of it is steady, familiar, grounding in a way I hadn’t expected.
I draw a slow breath and lift my chin. “My relationship?”
“There are rumors you attended some sort of orc cultural event together over the weekend.” She pauses, watching my reaction. “I don’t need to tell you how sensitive our position is. Mr. Vraag is one of the first orcs on staff, and while the board is committed to inclusive hiring, they’re also highly conscious of community perceptions.”
“Are you saying there’s a policy against staff members socializing outside of work hours?” I ask, keeping my voice steady despite the indignation rising in my throat.
“No explicit policy,” she admits, “but there are concerns about professional boundaries, especially given Mr. Vraag’s security role in your classroom.”
The implication stings. “Principal Winters, I’ve always maintained the highest professional standards in my classroom. My personal life doesn’t affect my teaching.”
“I believe that,” she says, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “But perception matters in a small community. This morning, I received a call from Mrs. Hendrix expressing concerns about Mr. Vraag teaching her son, in her words, ‘orc fighting moves’ during his security demonstration.”
