Page 20 of Changelings
Although she no longer sat surrounded by them, they were ever present. Her heart hadn’t slowed since she walked out her door to find them all there early that morning, and it was beginning to fray her nerves. Imogen hadn’t felt this overwhelmed in a long time, an uncomfortable itch beneath her skin, and she didn’t like it.
The only thing she could do was hope that, when they left and her meadow returned to peace and quiet, the sensation would go with them.
When she was by herself, she didn’t have to worry about her birthmark or her manners. Alone, her shabby old clothes and unfashionable fringe didn’t matter. Her cottage and meadow were meant to be a safe place, away from all the eyes that couldn’t help but look at her.
In her mother’s final weeks, she’d worried over Imogen’s tendency to isolate herself. Her mother insisted there would be times that attention was good, that there would be some who looked at her in fondness, even love.
With her parents gone, Imogen had never experienced such attention. Any attention seemed too much to bear, and so she retreated from it. Others may find the woods frightful, but to her, it offered escape. Sanctuary.
Here, all that mattered was the strength of her back and convictions.
But under someone else’s gaze, Imogen acutely felt all her shortcomings. Beneath the friendly banter and winking grins, the manticores had come here today to look at her. Assess her.
She didn’t know exactly what the test was, hadn’t asked for it at all, but couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever it was, she’d failed.
8
Imogen wasn’t as surprised when, the next morning, Shadow’s ears perked up, his bright amber eyes shifting toward the door before the knock came. She was a little more ready for it this time, even if her nerves were still frazzled from yesterday.
The boisterous manticores had left before suppertime, calling out loud farewells. Balar had lingered, promising to return on the morrow, and Kiriken had to be pulled away from one last game of fetch with Shadow.
Imogen had spent the remainder of her night quietly, listening for any sound of their return. Heart in her throat, she jumped at every breeze stirring the leaves and each squirrel that ran across her roof. By the time she climbed into bed, she couldn’t decide if she wanted them to come back, just to put her out of her miserable expectation.
Still, after the strain on her nerves all day, she’d slept well. So she wasn’t quite grumpy when she answered the door, nor was she as surprised.
Although, she had to admit, she was pleased to see he wasalone today.
Kiriken, it seemed, had been right.
Balar stood there a step back from her threshold, fists on his hips, shoulders back, smiling brightly. “Good morning to you, Miss Imogen. I trust you are well today?”
“Well enough.” Nodding over his shoulder, she had to confirm, “Just you today?”
“Just me,” he laughed. “Even my hardy brothers found your mulch pile terrifying. They’re all still fast asleep.”
Biting back her grin, Imogen said, “The goats wake early, and so do I.”
“I find the morning air invigorating,” he declared.
Not knowing quite what to say, Imogen watched as the conversation lapsed. They were left to blink expectantly at the other for a few moments too long.
Clearing her throat, she told him, “I’m due back at the Brádaighs’ today. So…no work.”
“Very good. Then I shall escort you and your charges there, yes?” It wasn’t really a question or request, so Imogen merely pulled her thick wool shawl off its peg and joined him outside.
That was how they added a manticore to their little parade. Balar walked amiably alongside her as they led the way, Shadow bounding happily between them. The goats seemed excited, knowing that an early morning trek meant interesting eats to come. The only one not pleased by the turn of events was Chestnut, who still didn’t like Balar and tried to nip him every chance she got.
Oh, and Imogen, of course. She wasn’t unhappy per se, just…unsure.
Once again, he dominated the conversation and she let him. He just had so much to say and seemed more than happyto say it. He told her of the early days of their coming to the Darrowlands, how they’d camped on the Brádaigh estate, blundering their way through learning Eirean and miserable in the unfamiliarly cold winter. He was full of horrible stories of ill-timed molting and nose-running head colds, all of which made him laugh raucously and Imogen shudder.
“Thankfully, though, the molt meant our feathers were new and pristine by spring—ready to show off to females.” He turned to wink at her. “We’ve found that no matter the kind, females find wings fetching.”
“I’m sure they’re absolutely droll to harpies,” she couldn’t help quipping.
“Ah ha! You’d be wrong—harpies are the most taken by them. Their males are even more vain about their feathers than we mantii are.” Smoothing a paw over his whiskers, he chuckled to himself. “Several of them have found Akila’s wingsveryfetching indeed.”
Imogen peeked at him out of the corner of her eye to find him positively twinkling at her. Flushing, she nodded, rolling her wrist to tell him to go on. Everyone loved a bit of gossip, even if they said they didn’t. Imogen had spent many afternoons listening to Neomi regale her with all the gossip from Granach and the surrounding villages. As a hermit herself, Imogen had no use for it, but it was always interesting to hear.
