My mother wouldn’t understand any of it.
But I didn’t need her to.
I got out of the truck, Sofia flying ahead to the front door, and went inside to figure out how to explain the unexplainable.
Inside, I fed Sofia and made myself dinner. I barely tasted it. I tried not to check my phone every five minutes to see if Brovish had texted.
He hadn’t.
I washed my dishes, changed into pajamas, and was brushing my teeth when my phone finally buzzed.
A text from Brovish.I want you to know I don’t regret today. Any of it. Regardless of what complications Friday brings.
I don’t regret it either.
Good. Then sleep well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.
I set the phone down and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked the same as I had this morning except for my eyes. They looked happy.
Sofia peeped from the bedroom, and I went to join her, already thinking about tomorrow.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BROVISH
Ilay awake half the night replaying what had happened in the conference room. Not the moment when Laina had come apart under my hands, though I’d replayed that too, extensively, but the moment after. When she’d looked up at me with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips.
Claiming was straightforward. An orc presented gifts, including hunted meat and crafted tools, plus proof of their ability to help support their mate. The family evaluated the match. If approved, intentions were declared before witnesses, and the claiming began.
Here, I had no framework. I had a veterinarian who let me touch her like I’d been designed specifically for that purpose, and a mother arriving Friday who would evaluate me whether I’d asked for evaluation or not.
I showered and got dressed and crossed the yard to the main building. Inside, lights shone from the break room down the hall. The scent of Traig’s tea mixed with whatever Krem had attempted to cook.
The four of them sat around the table. Drogar had his feet propped up on an empty chair. Krem shuffled through papers. Traig scrolled on his tablet without looking up. Greth sat in his usual spot near the window, watching the yard.
“Morning,” I said, heading for the tea kettle.
“You’re late,” Drogar said. “We’ve already begun the important discussion of whether mossnibbles understand the concept of owning-theft or if they believe all objects belong to the everyone pile.”
“They understand,” Krem said. “They simply have opposing thoughts about the keeping-things-for-oneself concept.”
“That’s still theft.”
“It’s redistribution.”
I poured tea and sat.
Traig lowered his tablet onto the table. “You look like someone who didn’t sleep well.”
“I slept fine.”
“You have the expression you wore when we built the eastern part of the fence, and you insisted on checking every post three times.”
“The posts needed checking.”
Drogar grinned. “The posts were set correctly. You were anxious. What’s causing your anxiety now?”
I wrapped both hands around my mug and decided honesty was faster than deflection. “Laina’s mother is visiting Friday. She has questions about Laina’s new job and life.”
