Page 51 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

I leaned back in my chair, pressing my clasped hands against my chin. Then I pulled up my message history with Willa, tracing her name on the screen.

I should tell her about the visit on Saturday. This was the kind of decision we should go through together. She deserved to know about an application for Rue.

I opened a message to Willa. My fingers hovered over the screen.

A family wants Rue.

No, that wasn’t the right way to start. Drogar kept saying I needed to approach things slowly, not slice to the chase. Cut to the chase, that is.

We should talk about the bloombacks.

Neutral, but was that the right way to start the conversation?

Unsure, I deleted it and typed again.

I need your thoughts on something.

I stared at the line of words for a while before closing the message without sending it.

This was merely paperwork. I’d process it properly, review all the information, and make a recommendation. That’s what I did with every adoption application. Then I could tell Willa my decision.

The building had gone quiet. Almost everyone had left for the day. I sat in my office with the sounds of the facility settling, from the hum of ventilation to the distant call of a clatterwing from the outdoor enclosure.

I needed to go home.

I stayed at my desk.

A knock on my doorframe made me look up.

Drogar entered, holding a sealed envelope, his usual grin absent. “This came through the underground channel, brought it with today’s supply delivery.”

He set it on my desk.

The wax seal caught the light. Deep crimson, pressed with a crest I’d spent three years trying not to think about.

My family’s mark.

“Do you want me to stay while you read it?” Drogar asked.

I stared at my name written in formal script across the front.

“I can handle it.”

Drogar didn’t move.

“Truly,” I said. “I appreciate you bringing it to me.”

He studied my face and left, pulling the door closed behind him.

I picked up the envelope, balancing the weight of the expensive paper on my palm.

I turned it over in my hands and set it down.

And picked it back up again.

I placed the envelope inside my desk drawer, facedown beneath a stack of supply order forms, and closed the drawer. My office felt smaller all of a sudden, the walls closing in.

I should go home.