Page 33 of Changelings
“I see.”
Why am I suddenly nervous?He wouldn’t apologize, for he wasn’t sorry, but he could regret that he hadn’t foreseen that she might notlikehim marking her land. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything.
Thinking fast, he asked, “What’s your favorite color?”
Imogen’s brows arched nearly to her hairline. “Uhm…green, I suppose. Why?”
“A good color. Lush, hearty. Mine is gold, which also looks very fine with green.” He smiled wide, avoiding answering her question.
But he was mistaken to think that his sharp mate would be distracted. He could admire her for it, even if he did grimace when she said, “You marked my land.” Not a question.
“I did, yes.”
He watched her lips thin with growing trepidation.Kud,if she found out he’d peeked inside her cottage, she might banish him entirely.
“Why?”
Balar thought he’d already answered that, but he did as sheasked and explained, “I knew it would deter predators, and it seems it’s done just that. I fear for you out here on your own. If I cannot be here myself to protect you, at least my scent can provide some small defense.”
Her expression didn’t change—no softening, but no scowling, either.
“Balar, what is it you want from me?”
It was his turn to raise his brows. He’d definitely explained this, too.
“I wantyou,urisá.For my own.Saba em pash-ket.I was beginning to despair of ever finding you.”
“But what does that allmeanfor you?”
Balar didn’t immediately answer, considering her, searching for clues. What had happened these past two days to make her unsure of him again?
“It means I wish to share a life with you,kigara. I wish to know you, every part and bit, and for you to know me. I know it’s the human way to court first, and so we are courting now. I’m a patient manticore, and I’m enjoying getting to learn about you.”
If he’d been hoping for reciprocation or compliments, he’d be disappointed.
“Then you should know thatthiswon’t go away.” Pushing back her hair, she bared the reddened half of her face at him.
It shocked Balar—not the mark itself, but that she revealed it. Always tugging her hair down, she seemed determined to hide it as much as possible.
But she demanded he look at it, and so he did.
The mark again. Is it why she questions me so?
“I’ve always had this. It’ll probably get bigger with time. There’s no covering it up or getting rid of it.”
Angry tears flashed in her eyes, and Balarhatedit.Oh,urisá.Her pain was as bare to see as the birthmark, and Balar’s chest ached with it.
Slowly, so, so slowly, he stepped forward and reached for her. Gently, he cupped her cheek in his palm. The warmth of her skin nearly burned him, another zing of awareness sparking between his wings, but he put it aside.
“I know this,” he said. “It’s as much a part of you as your eyes being brown.”
Her brows snapped together—not quite a frown, but something worse. Something frustrated, pained. “But it’s—” She shook her head, as if she couldn’t find the words.
An unhappy sound rumbled in his chest as he watched her struggle. Her feelings over her birthmark affected her so deeply, she couldn’t put them into words.
He’d underestimated her pain.
Drawing the pad of his thumb across her red cheek, Balar told her softly, “When it’s time to name a new pride leader, there’s a ceremony. The newerezhas her face painted in ochre to symbolize her power, her reign. That’s what I see when I look upon this mark,kigara. An anointederezin command of her pride.”
