25. Brovish
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
brOVISH
I’d spent two days preparing what I’d say. The words had formed in my notebook, refined until they felt true, but standing in the parking lot watching the adoption family’s vehicle approach, my hands wanted to shake.
I’d handle this later, after this family left with their new creature. I’d prove to myself one more time that Laina and I had built something worth declaring in front of everyone who mattered.
The vehicle crunched over gravel. I’d checked the schedule three times that morning, which Traig had noticed and commented on with a single raised eyebrow.
The family emerged from their car. Two parents and a daughter who might’ve been eight, maybe nine. The child spotted the facility and her face brightened.
“Are there really creatures from underground here?” she asked before her parents had finished closing the car doors.
“Many creatures,” I said, striding forward to greet them.
“You’re an orc,” the child exclaimed, tipping her head back to peer up at me.
“I am.” I stooped down and held out my hand. “I’m Brovish. Welcome to the Creature Rescue League.”
She danced on her toes as she shook my hand. “I can’t wait.”
“Would you like to come with me to meet them?”
Her nod was so vigorous her hair bounced.
Laina appeared in the doorway, with Sofia on her shoulder and five driftwhisps woven through her hair. The child’s eyes went wide.
“You have a whole collection of them,” the girl breathed, stepping closer.
“They chose me,” Laina said. “Sometimes creatures know who they want to be with before we do.”
Carol stood nearby, her phone in hand, taking notes. Her screen showed a list, and I caught fragments. Fizzling dietary requirements. Driftwhisp light cycle needs.
She’d been documenting creature care for days now. Small pieces of information she asked about during meals, or observations she made while following Laina through rounds. I wasn’t sure why, so I was watching, waiting for her reason to be revealed.
We escorted the family to the meet and greet area, where we’d set up comfortable seating and brought in three creatures for introduction.
A mossnibble sat on its haunches in a contained space, its tiny front paws clasped, its nose wiggling.
One of the calmer fizzlings waited in a second pen, and a young driftwhisp that Krem had been socializing specifically for adoption purposes floated in the air near one corner.
Laina guided them through each introduction. She explained their temperament, care requirements, and behavioral patterns. The parents asked questions about integration into their home. The daughter sat on the floor near the fizzling’s enclosure, watching the creature’s stripes glow.
“Why do the flying ones live in your hair?” the girl asked, pointing at the driftwhisps.
Krem moved closer.
“In our culture,” he said, “when driftwhisps nest in someone’s hair, it means they’ve recognized that person as their—”
“Look at this magnificent fizzling.” Drogar’s voice boomed across the space, drowning out whatever Krem was saying. He crouched beside the child, gesturing at the creature. “She produces excellent static. The very best kind. Would you like to see her demonstrate?”
The girl’s attention swung toward the fizzling.
Krem smiled and shook his head, but he stepped back.
I caught Laina’s gaze across the room. Her grin told me she’d heard exactly what Drogar had interrupted.
My focus kept slipping. My notebook sat in my pocket, waiting. I’d gotten everything ready last night while Laina slept. Each detail had mattered.
The fizzling performed beautifully, discharging enough static to make the child laugh, without shocking anyone. The discharge created small arcs of light that danced between the creature’s stripes.
The girl clapped and scooted closer.
“Can we take her home?” she asked her parents.
The mother looked at her partner, who smiled and nodded.
“If you promise to follow all the care instructions,” the mother said. “And let us help with the grounding.”
“I promise!”
Traig offered paperwork on his tablet, guiding the family through adoption requirements while the child sat beside the fizzling’s carrier, talking to the creature in a chirping voice.
Twenty minutes later, they’d completed everything. The fizzling rode in her carrier to their vehicle, the child holding it carefully with Laina’s help. Her parents secured it in the back seat beside their daughter.
We stood in the parking area, waving as they drove away. The girl pressed her face to the window, still watching until the trees blocked her view.
Carol stood beside Laina, her posture looser than I’d seen since she’d arrived. Not quite open, but no longer defensive.
“You’ve built something good here,” Carol said, looking around.
Laina turned to her mother, surprise flickering across her face.
Carol’s fingers drummed once against her arm before she dropped them to her sides. “Maybe next time I visit, I could volunteer? Do some real work instead of just observing.”
Laina’s eyes widened. Her fingers curled against her sides, a defensive gesture that softened almost immediately. When she spoke, her voice came out careful.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“Good.” Carol smiled. “I’ll call beforehand. Give you warning next time.”
“That would be appreciated.”
They stood together, neither quite ready to move, before Carol touched Laina’s shoulder.
Laina turned and found my gaze, her expression caught between pleased and uncertain.
I held out my hand and tugged her near.
We walked back inside together, where the others had already begun resetting the meet-and-greet area for the next scheduled adoption later this week.
When we’d finished for the day, I asked everyone to gather in the garden sitting area. We’d set up stone benches around a central area where bloombacks often grazed, their flowers shifting colors in the afternoon light. Trees provided shade without making the space feel enclosed.
Laina followed me outside with a confused expression on her face. “Did I miss something on the schedule?”
“No schedule. Just a gathering.”
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”
Sofia chirped from her shoulder. The driftwhisps in Laina’s hair had gone still, their tendrils catching the late afternoon sun.
The others joined us a short time later.
Drogar claimed an entire bench, sprawling across it with his legs extended.
Krem stood nearby with his clipboard, though for once he wasn’t writing anything.
Traig leaned against a tree, his tablet dark in his hands.
Greth positioned himself near the back where he could watch but slip away if he felt the need.
Carol sat on one of the benches, her hands folded in her lap.
“Why is everyone here?” Laina asked as I led her to the center of the small clearing.
I pulled a carved snugglethorn from my pocket. I’d been working on it for over a week and finished it last night, while Laina slept. The finer details had taken hours.
“I made this for you,” I said, holding it out.
Laina took it carefully, turning it over in her hands. Her fingers traced the carved wool. “It’s lovely.”
“Now we have a pair.”
She looked up at me, her eyes bright. “I saw the one on your nightstand.”
I’d practiced this. The words had formed in my notebook over days, refined until they felt true. But standing here with her watching me and everyone else witnessing, my tongue went clumsy.
My mouth went dry. My offering felt heavier than it had moments ago. It carried intention, tradition, and choice.
I started in Orcish because some things needed to be said in kingdom language first. The cadence felt right, the rhythm familiar.
Then I translated.
“Orcs claim the person whose happiness determines our own.” My voice stayed steady even though my hands shook. “I claim you, Laina Mercer, as my kavresh. My heart-chosen.”
The words settled in my bones. Everything I’d wanted since the night she’d walked through the door to treat Cooper came together in my declaration.
She reached for my hand, her fingers weaving through mine. The simple touch resonated through my entire body. The claiming wasn’t complete until she claimed me back, but her hand told me everything in her heart.
“Yes,” she said. “I claim you back, Brovish Dayngris, as my kavresh. My heart-chosen. My only love.”
Drogar made the wet, snuffling sound. When I glanced his way, he’d pressed both of his hands against his face.
“Are you crying?” Traig asked him, leaning closer.
Drogar lowered his hands, not bothering to hide the wetness on his face. “This is a claiming ceremony. Of course I’m crying. It’s—” His voice roughened. “It’s beautiful.”
Krem leaned forward on the bench. “I’ve been calculating the statistical likelihood of compatible mates between humans and orcs, and this pairing exceeds all projections.” He paused, his expression softening. “I’m very pleased.”
Traig looked up from his tablet, studied us both for a long moment, then nodded once. “Welcome to the family, Laina. I believe that’s the human way of saying it.”
Greth’s single nod carried the weight of kingdom tradition.
Sofia sparked in bright gold that lit up the space around us. I’d never seen her produce that color before. As the gold light washed over us, heat bloomed on the inside of my left wrist.
Laina lifted her arm, a stunned expression on her face.
A shimmering mark etched into the skin of her left inner wrist, a tiny mountain range with water flowing beneath it.
“Laina,” I breathed, lifting my own arm now showing the same mating mark. “The symbol for kavresh. We are truly mated.”
“The fates have spoken,” Drogar whispered, his voice thick with tears.
I covered her wrist with my hand, tracing the glowing symbol.
“Not just the fates. We chose this. I was taught that a hunter should never lose his breath, for fear of losing the trail. But standing next to you, I find I would gladly never breathe again if it meant I can spend every second being the air you choose to take in.”
“Brovish.” She stroked my face. “I choose you. Every single breath of you. So don’t stop breathing. I’ve decided I’m keeping you.”
Carol stood, clapping. Tears tracked down her face, but she was smiling. “That was beautiful. Truly.”
Laina leaned into my side. She gently touched one of the driftwhisps in her hair. “What does it really mean when they nest in your hair?”
“It means they recognized you were already loved before you knew it yourself.” I stroked one of the silver tendrils. “They sensed someone here would claim you in their heart, and they announced it to everyone who understands their language.”
“Oh.” The word came out soft, almost breathless. “That’s lovely. And you’re very determined.”
“I told you I wanted to keep you.”
“You did.” She lifted onto her toes, and I bent down to meet her. “Consider me kept.”
I kissed her in front of everyone. Her mouth opened under mine, and my hands found her waist, pulling her closer. Sofia sparked. The driftwhisps’ silver glow brightened, but none of it mattered as much as the small sound Laina made when I deepened the kiss.
When we pulled apart, Drogar had recovered enough to grin at us.
Carol dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
Laina held the carved snugglethorn between us. “I love you.”
“You told me two nights ago.”
“I’m telling you again. In front of witnesses.”
I covered her hand with mine, the carving between our palms. “I love you. In front of witnesses and in private and in every moment in between.”
“You love me?” Tears sparkled in her eyes.
I hadn’t said it, but I should’ve. “I do. Always.”
Sofia peeped.
Laina laughed through her tears and stroked the emberkit’s spine. “We love you too, Sofia.”
We stayed in the garden while the sun moved lower. Eventually people drifted away.
Only Carol remained on the bench, watching us.
I walked over to her while Laina was occupied with Sofia.
When I came to a stop, Carol looked up. “That was beautiful. I’m happy for both of you.”
I pulled my notebook from my pocket, opening it to a specific entry I’d marked, one I’d made after Laina and Carol walked and spoke their hearts for the first time. Taking steps across the tavresh-mora. Laina meeting her halfway, uncertain but willing to venture farther.
I’d written it because I’d wanted to remember that healing between them was possible. That distance could be walked if both people tried.
Her eyes moved over the words. When she finished, her gaze found mine, tears threatening again.
“Could you send me a copy of this?” she asked.
I tore the page out carefully. “It’s yours.”
She folded it and tucked it into her pocket. “Thank you.”
I nodded, because words felt inadequate for what passed between us.
Carol stood. “I should head back to Laina’s place.
I have packing to finish. I’ve got an early flight out of Portland tomorrow.
” She glanced toward where Laina was releasing the young driftwhisps back into their enclosure.
“I told her I’ll call next time and ask if I can visit, not just tell her I’m coming. ”
“That’s wise.”
“It’s progress.” Her smile came through crooked. “Small steps.”
“The only kind worth taking.”
She touched my arm once before heading around the building, toward the parking area.
“Where did my mother go?” Laina asked, coming over to stand beside me.
“Back to your house to pack.”
“Oh.” Her gaze shot to the parking area. “Right. She leaves tomorrow.”
“Are you alright?”
“I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
I slid my arm around her waist, pulling her against my side. “You don’t have to know yet.”
She leaned into me, her head against my lower chest. Sofia dozed on her opposite shoulder.
We stood there while the light changed from afternoon to early evening, watching creatures in their enclosures and listening to the sounds of the facility settling into silence.
“We should go inside,” she said. “I need to finish documenting the fizzling adoption.”
“And I need to get ready for the announcement I’ll make to everyone tomorrow.”
“About what?”
“You’ll see.”