“Dungar,” I called, lifting one of the luminescent stones. “You need to see this.”
While his brothers remained ready to bind the three women, Dungar moved to my side, his body brushing against mine as he stooped down to peer into the box. His brow furrowed as he cataloged the contents of the first. “These are drakestone fragments.”
“They are,” Sel said, joining us.
Tark grunted, pointing. “And tunnel moss from our deep caverns.”
I peered into the second container, finding soil in carefully labeled jars, crystalline formations, and what appeared to be mineral-rich water in sealed vials. The third box contained additional plant specimens, all arranged with meticulous care.
“This isn’t theft equipment.” I couldn’t make sense of it. This didn’t fit with what we’d assumed was happening. “These look like habitat supplements.”
“Exactly.” Mary’s smile came shaky. “We’re trying to help the luminooks adjust to surface conditions by providing elements from their natural underground environment. We would’ve driven closer, but my truck got a flat tire not far from here. We opted to bring the boxes and take care of the luminooks first before changing the tire.”
Dungar straightened, his expression skeptical. “And you’re all doing this under whose authority?”
“The orc king himself,” she said. “I asked him duringhis visit last month if there was anything I could do to help the transition process. He said Ruugar was struggling with keeping the luminooks comfortable in surface-level enclosures.”
My pulse stuttered. “You met the orc king?”
“About three weeks ago,” Mary said, seeking Dungar’s gaze for confirmation; he nodded. “Remember? He toured the facility and spent hours observing the luminooks. I mentioned my background in xenobiology, though my experience is from years ago, and he was very interested in my suggestions. I have a degree from the University of Maine.” Her words tumbled out in a rush. “I taught there for a while before deciding I’d had enough. My specialty was in interspecies habitat adaptation. When the king mentioned you were having trouble with the luminooks’ feeding patterns and sleep cycles, I offered to help.”
Dungar’s jaw tightened, and I could see him running through his mental files, trying to place this information within his carefully organized system. “I would’ve been notified of any official arrangement.”
“You were supposed to be,” Mary insisted. “The king said he’d send documentation to you directly. That’s why I thought you knew. I assumed you’d told your brothers about our work. The supplies came last night, but we were busy today, so I opted to take care of this tonight instead.”
“What do you two have to do with all this?” I asked Joyce and Ava.
“I’m just here to help,” Joyce said quickly. “Maryasked if I wanted to contribute to an important project. She said they needed extra hands to carry supplies.”
“And the phone call you made yesterday? The one about everything being ready for tonight?” Dungar asked.
Joyce’s eyes widened. “I was confirming with Ava that she’d be able to make it. She wasn’t sure her equipment would be ready in time.”
“Equipment?” Dungar growled.
Ava lifted her camera. “For documentation. The king suggested detailed photographs of the process might be important for the royal archives. This is the first time surface-dwellers have attempted to recreate deep-cavern conditions for luminook care.”
I studied their faces, searching for tells, for the flickers across faces that would suggest deception. But their fear appeared genuine. I didn’t see any body language that might point to guilt.
“When did you last communicate with the king?” I asked Mary.
“Two days ago. He sent final approval for the installation of what’s inside the boxes.” Mary’s voice rose. “The timing was crucial—luminooks are most receptive to environmental changes during the new moon phase. I’m sure you know that.”
I didn’t, but I bet Ruugar and Dungar did.
I could tell Dungar was perplexed, however.
“You’re certain I was supposed to receive official documentation?” Ruugar said.
“The king told me he’d send it,” Mary said. “He said itwould arrive about a week ago, that you’d coordinate with your brothers about the timing after that. I almost mentioned it, but you’ve been so busy lately, I opted to proceed, assuming you knew and approved of what would happen.”
I watched his carefully controlled composure crack around the edges. His entire life operated on systems, on proper channels and documented procedures. If the king had truly authorized this project, Dungar would’ve received notification. He would’ve created files, schedules, plans to ensure complete success.
“There’s been no official communication,” Dungar said, frustration blooming in his voice.
“But that’s impossible,” Mary said. “The king specifically told me?—”
“The king’s visits are always coordinated through my office.” Dungar straightened the items in his utility belt, a sign of his increasing stress. “All official business here goes through proper channels.”
