Page 19 of Changelings
Nearly choking, Imogen coughed, “You shouldn’t shirk your duties.”
“We did work awfully hard to get you elected,” said Diar before shoving a piece of bread the size of his fist into his mouth.
Balar scoffed in disgust. “Did a boar raise you? Chew first at least.”
“Not a boar, but close enough,” Diar quipped before winking at Imogen.
Had they all gotten straw in their eyes? Fates, they were worse than tomcats.
Balar made another noise of disgust while the brothers laughed.
It was he who got the last laugh, though, and Imogen thought his smile was a little evil when, once their meals were finished, he asked, “What shall you have us do next,ul-lu?”
The brothers groaned at the idea of more work.
“Yes,ul-lir,give us your orders,” teased Akila.
Fast as a whip, Balar turned a warning glare onto his jokester brother, a rumbling growl just teasing at his throat. The mood shifted immediately, all of them, even Akila, turning their faces slightly to the side and down, giving him their cheeks. Akila’s ears went back to lay flat against his head, and his wings drooped.
The show of dominance was small but total, and Imogen witnessed it all breathlessly, not sure if she should look away, too. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and when Balar turned to her, she couldn’t help ducking away.
“No,urisá,” he said in a wholly different rumble. “Never you.” A warm paw touched her chin with aching gentleness, lifting her face.
Imogen gritted her back teeth, heart fluttering wildly in her chest. His gaze bore down on her with all the heat and intensity of the sun, but rather than turn to it like a flower to warmth, Imogen wanted to shudder away. Like so many bugs revealed from under a rock, scurrying away to somewhere darker and safer, it was too much.
She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. All shemanaged was, “The mulch.”
Balar blinked, perhaps not having heard her.
“She said earlier that the mulch pile needs turning,” Kiriken said, his voice carrying a forced cheer.
The other brothers all moaned and groaned dramatically, making overblown sounds of disgust, and just like that, the mood shifted back to a friendlier tone.
Despite Akila and Diar’s loud protests, they still went with Balar and Soren to find the spades Imogen pointed them to. As his brothers collected their tools, Balar found Imogen’s gaze and sent her a little knowing grin.
Using his wings, he hustled the brothers along to the mulch pile while the animals watched on from the far side of the pen.
Left even more bemused than before, Imogen fed Shadow the remaining corners of her lunch.
Kiriken chuckled, whispering conspiratorially, “Now none of them will want to come back, for fear of being put to work again.”
Her brows arched in surprise, but before she could think to ask, he jumped up to begin putting away the dishes and throwing away the crusts—into Shadow’s eager maw. When Imogen tried to help, he waved her off. “No, no, that is forbinturto do.”
“What isbintur?” she asked.
“Something like ‘the youngest.’ I am the youngest brother, so I do the clearing up.”
“Is that a rule from your people or from your brothers?” She didn’t like the idea of Kiriken being singled out just for being the youngest.
Smiling sunnily, he replied, “That is the way with most mantii, miss.Binturtake the easy work until they are big and strong enough to work alongside their brothers.”
It was hard to argue with his easy nature and happy grin.
With luncheon over, Imogen meant to take Chestnut and the goats some midday feed, but when Kiriken begged her to let him do it, eyes gone round and pleading, she was instead left to wander her own land.
There were chores in the house to occupy her, but she didn’t want to let the big manticores out of her sight—or let them think they could follow her in.
She could just hear their friendly banter while they worked on the mulch. As with the pen, they sometimes broke out into a song in their own language, their tune keeping time to great shovels of fragrant mulch.
