Page 17 of Changelings
What a strange man.
7
Imogen walked out of her cottage the following morning to a very strange sight. She rubbed her eyes, not quite sure she believed what she saw. Even Shadow tilted his head this way and that, whining in question.
Out in her meadow, gathered under the saturated morning sunlight, sat five manticores.
Which, she was sure, was four more than she’d had yesterday.
Before she could shut the door, get back in bed, and try waking up again to a different scene, Balar hustled away from the others to greet her.
“Good morning,ul-lu!How are you today?”
Flushing, Imogen nodded over his broad shoulder at the others. “And they are?”
“My nosy brothers, of course.” Grinning sheepishly, he ran a big paw over his whiskers. “They were eager to meet you, and, while I did my best to lose them on the way here, they were persistent. I’ve trained them too well, you see. We’re all excellent trackers.”
“Uh huh.” Peering around him to peek at the brothers, she flushed again when one of them waved a big paw at her. “And you’re all here because…?”
“For the courting. I’m told it takes at least several days, yes? As for that lot—” he raised his voice to carry “—if they insist on staying, they’ll be put to work.”
Groans and laughs followed his words, and Balar rolled his eyes.
Imogen wiped her sweaty palms on her pantlegs, unsure what to say other than, “You really don’t have to. Any of you.”
“I want to,” he insisted. “I can tell that you are a discerning woman and will need to be convinced. So I’ll prove my usefulness—and that my brothers can be more than a nuisance sometimes.”
“Who are you calling a nuisance?” one of them called.
Insides squirming, Imogen searched frantically for something to say. There were plenty of larger projects that needed doing, sure, but she couldn’t let them reinforce the pen or chop firewood for winter or turn over her mulch pile. Letting them do the work implied she’d also let this courting nonsense go on.
“Balar…” she cleared her throat. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding…”
A cautious frown overshadowed his face. “About?”
“I don’t think I can be yourkigara.”
His nostrils flared and he planted his fists on his hips. “Is there another?”
“Another what?”
“Another person who holds your affections?”
“No,” she snorted. “Never.” That last bit came out unintentionally, and she stared wide-eyed at his chest, hoping he hadn’t heard.
“Good,” he rumbled, sounding pleased again. “Then there isno barrier or reason you cannot bekigara.”
Her mouth opened and closed, and she couldn’t help feeling like a wriggling fish on a hook. Fates, this had gotten away from her.
His frown deepened, and, leaning down to put their faces close, he asked softly, “Is it that you dislike me? Or that you cannot bear that I’m not human?”
Imogen spluttered. “It doesn’t matter what you are!” She certainly would never be one to judge another by how they looked. “And I suppose…I don’t know you enough to like or dislike you.”
Balar nodded, as though he’d decided something. “Indeed. We shall rectify that then, with the courting.” Straightening, he regained his beaming smile, the one that showed off the full length of his fangs. “Put me to work,kigara. Let me prove what a man I can be to you.”
She chewed her cheek. She really shouldn’t. She had no intention of letting this go on—she liked her life how it was.
But the pen did need reinforcing…and all the manticores looked strapping…
