Page 11 of Changelings
Only Soren seemed inclined to keep his cabin empty.
Still, though, all of them rallied, striking out into the forest with a single mind—to find Imogen.
Balar hadn’t counted on her being so damnably hard to find, though. He hadn’t expected it to take two days. Or three.Fivedays passed and still, there was no sign.
He and his brothers fought valiantly through the dense forests, battling their way through thickets of blackberries and ferns, surmounting fallen logs and rock escarpments. Acre by acre, they searched, leaving marks on trees to signal where they’d already been. Soon, the whole forest would smell of them.
And still no Imogen.
While Balar and Soren, and Kiri when he wasn’t in school, continued searching the forest, Diar and Akila traveled to nearbytowns, asking their friends and contacts about possible leads. They staked out the Brádaigh estate to see if she’d return there. Balar asked Sorcha to send word on his behalf.
Still, nothing.
It went on so long, Balar began to wonder if he’d imagined meeting the mysterious maiden.
Before he was able to head out on another morning, he was intercepted by Maritza, the eldest sister and leader of her little flock of harpies. A formidable female, Balar tried not to shudder as her sharp gaze looked him over. Usually that gaze was full of lust for any male that moved—he knew Akila had alreadykept companywith several of the harpy sisters—but today, it sparked with annoyance.
“Off again today?” she asked by way of greeting.
Balar nodded. He knew the continued absence of him and his brothers had aroused great curiosity, even suspicion. Not needing the gossip—or admitting to the orcs and the harpies that he couldn’t locate his own mate—he’d kept quiet about why he was so often away lately.
“Not for much longer.” He might tear out his own mane if so.
Maritza’s eyes, overlarge for her angular face, narrowed. Crossing her feathered arms, she snapped, “What about village business? We were supposed to have a vote to decide the name. And did you even secure the charter?”
With effort, Balar kept the grimace from his face. The charter that he’d been so proud of, bearing Liege Darrow’s own signature, still sat folded in the inner pocket of his good tunic—which had gone unwashed and unworn since he’d begun his hunt for Imogen. He hadn’t spared it a single thought since waking up to her face above him.
“I did. I will deliver it to you tonight, so all may see it.” The only thing left to do was fill in the name of their village. With a charter, they could vote in larger elections that affected thewhole of the Darrowlands, request public building projects and funds for other ventures, host guilds, and even set up a market. It was an acknowledgement of their right to live, work, andbethere, amongst the humans.
It was incredibly important, and Balar should’ve cared.
Except, right now, he really didn’t.
Balar made to turn, getting on his way, when Maritza said, “You’d better not be up to anything sinister, Balar. We could have another election and choose another mayor.”
Balar nodded enthusiastically, plopping his paw on her narrow shoulder. “That may be necessary, but for now, I appoint you my vice-mayor. I trust you to see that everything runs smoothly in my absence, Maritza.”
Those big harpy eyes went impossibly wide, and then she broke out into what Balar could only call an evil grin.
“An excellent compromise,” she crooned.
Balar swallowed hard. Hopefully he hadn’t just created a tyrant.
Although, she already oversaw her sisters—now it was just a few other half-orcs. It’d be fine.
He’d make everything right just as soon as he found hiskigara.
For now, the hunt was on.
5
When it finally happened, it was by mistake. Balar passed an outcropping he’d been to before, would’ve kept going in his same rutted path, had he not kicked a sizable stone with his big toe. Cursing under his breath, he watched the stone skip away—between two boulders he hadn’t realized were that far apart. Balar eased between the rocks and, with a triumphant hoot, caught a well-worn path.
Of course, when he told their many adoring cubs the story later, he’d say the goddess guided his feet, and he followed his heart to her.
Yes, that sounded much better.
From the cover of a great mulberry tree, Balar smiled—a bit smugly, if he was honest.
