Krem’s mouth twitched.
“Place,” I said quietly. “He means place.”
“Yes. That word.” Brovish’s ears darkened. “Welcome to our rescue facility. I’m Brovish.” He gestured. “This is Krem, Drogar, Traig, and Greth. We’re the owners and operators of the Creature Rescue League.”
My mother extended her hand, and Brovish took it carefully. Her eyes, however, remained fixed on his tusks.
“Carol Mercer,” she said. “Laina’s mother.”
“We know. She speaks of you with…fondness.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Does she?”
I hadn’t, actually. But Brovish didn’t elaborate, and my mother didn’t press. She just gave me a pointed look.
Krem stepped forward next, the clipboard still clutched to his chest. “We’ve prepared refreshments and a tour. If you would like to follow us inside, we can begin with an overview of our facility operations and safety protocols.”
“That sounds lovely,” my mother said in the tone she used when something was anything but.
We went inside to the break room.
Krem produced tea with the kind of ceremony usually reserved for state dinners. He’d set out cups, saucers, and a small plate of cookies that must’ve come from the bakery in town. The kettle had been warming, and he poured, his tongue flicking between his tusks in concentration.
Drogar hovered too close, watching my mother like she was a fascinating specimen.
“You have very straight teeth,” Drogar said suddenly.
My mother blinked. “Thank you?”
“Straight teeth mean good bone strength. This is valued in potential allies.” He leaned closer. “Also, you smell like confusion flowers. Are you nervous feeling?”
“Drogar,” Traig said without looking up from his tablet. He stood in the doorway, ready to manage whatever chaos erupted.
“I’m being friendly welcoming.”
“You’re being intrusive.”
“Is there a difference in human customs?”
Greth leaned against the far wall, silent and observing.
My mother accepted the tea and held it in both hands.
“So,” she said, her gaze moving from orc to orc before landing on me. “One of them mentioned safety protocols? I’d like to understand how those work when you’re dealing with creatures that are, from what I understand, not native to the surface world.”
Brovish straightened. “We have extensive protocols. Each creature is evaluated for temperament before being brought to the surface, let alone placed in adoptive homes. We maintain secure enclosures with regular inspections. All staff are trained in creature behavior and emergency response.”
“And funding?” She took a delicate sip of tea. “How is an operation like this sustained? Is this a hobby, or a genuine business venture?”
“We receive grants from both human and kingdom sources,” Traig said, not looking up from his tablet. “We also generate revenue through educational programs and adoptions. All of us have…plenty of resources. The facility is more than financially stable. Its spreadsheets prove this.”
“And what’s the long-term viability of a place like this?”
“If the pattern-of-now continues forward, we’ll need to build bigger within three seasons,” Krem said.
My mother nodded. She wasn’t being rude. She was trying to understand in the only way she knew how, by reducingeverything to data points and risk assessments. Her MBA was speaking now.
Brovish’s fingers drummed on the table, the same rhythm I’d watched him tap out when he wrote in his notebook.
