Laina stood near the window with her own tablet, making notes.
I worked on how to arrange the space so the children could observe safely without causing stress to them or the creatures.
Every time Laina shifted her weight, I noticed. When she reached up to tuck hair behind her ear, my hands rememberedthe softness of it. Professional distance required not thinking about how her mouth had tasted, but despite trying to focus on my work, I could only think about her.
“What about the bloomback?” she asked, not looking up from her tablet. “The color changes might fascinate the children, but I’m concerned about overstimulation.”
I got up and walked over to where she stood. “Iris handles groups well. She changed colors for the adoption fair two months ago and remained calm throughout.”
“How many people attended?”
“Thirty, maybe more.”
Laina made a note, her stylus moving across the screen. “We’ve got twenty-five children coming, plus teachers. That should be manageable for her then.”
I stood close enough to see what she was writing.
She glanced up at me, giving me a sweet smile.
“The fizzlings are a definite yes,” she said. “The children will love their static discharge, and Drogar has worked out a grounding technique that’ll keep them from being zapped.”
“He’s doing a great job.” She glanced up, and whatever she saw on my face made her breath catch. “We should finalize the list.”
“We should.”
She looked back at her tablet, but I caught the small smile she was trying to hide.
We returned to work, but I tracked how she checked her phone often, her expression tightening before smoothing out again.
Her mother must be sending more texts.
“Brovish,” she said after another phone check, “what do you think about respiratory rates in vellicharms during transport?”
The question pulled me from watching her worry her bottom lip.
“I think you’re asking because you already know the answer and want confirmation,” I said.
“Maybe.”
“Their breathing stays steady unless they’re severely distressed. Duchess Filandra’s baseline is twelve breaths per minute. If that had increased above sixteen during transport, we would’ve intervened.”
She made a note, nodding. “That matches what I found. Thank you.”
“You didn’t need me for that.”
“I wanted your opinion anyway.” She met my eyes directly. “Your creature knowledge is better than mine. I trust it.”
With orcs, trust was earned through years of shared labor. She’d given it to me in weeks, and I didn’t know what to do with the weight of that except carry it carefully.
Before I could respond, Drogar rose from his chair. “If the school meeting is finished, the transport crates need your approval, Brovish, before I load them.”
I went to help him, but I felt Laina’s attention follow me out the door.
The day continued with stolen glances, brief touches, and constant awareness.
By the time we’d finished preparations, I knew exactly how many times she’d bitten her lower lip (seven), how many times our hands had brushed reaching for the same supply (three), and how many times I’d caught her watching me when she thought I wasn’t looking (at least six, possibly more).
I should probably stop counting.
