“I’ve waited for this day for so long,” Ary said dreamily. “We all have—Talon especially. We knew we could never replace him, but we did our best to honor him while we waited and watched for his return.”
“What did you do, exactly?” I found myself suddenly curious about this strange, bubbly girl who’d devoted her life tothis—and to a man she’d never even met, a man who hadn’t even been in this world foryearsand who, up until a handful of days ago, had no idea how or if he’d ever return.
“We all have different gifts,” Ary explained. “Talon’s talent with essence allows him to speak with birds. Ivo can hardly use essence at all, but I’ve never met anyone who’s better with a bow.” She popped another one of those orange not-grapes in her mouth. “Me, I can move clouds. Well,cloud.One at a time. But I’m getting better at it. And I’m practically a perfect shot with my throwing knives. When we cleared out that serpent nest a couple of weeks ago I hit one in the eye from fifty paces. It wasbrilliant.” To my shock, her smile had turned positively bloodthirsty, and there was a devilish flash in her eyes that suggested she was reliving that moment in her memory even now—and loving every second of it.
Remind me to never cross the perky one, I thought, frankly a little terrified.
“Of course, even all together we’re not as impressive as the Lion Warrior,” she said, slipping easily back into her chirpy girlishness. “Especially when he’s in his beast form.”
“What do you mean, hisbeastform?”
She looked at me like I was messing with her. “I don’t know what else to call it… You know, when he turns into a manticore.”
Wait—what?!?
“He can turn into amanticore?” I couldn’t keep the absolute shock out of my voice. I was familiar with manticores from many of the fantasy books I’d read, and though no two stories described them exactly the same way—some gave them wings, or a human face—there were some things most depictions had in common: the body of a lion and a viciously barbed tail. And they werealwaysconsidered brutally cruel and dangerous.
I looked down the table at Octavian. I had no trouble believing he was a fierce warrior, or that he was one of the strongest, most ferocious fighters in Therador, but it was hard to picture someone so loyal and protective as a violentbeast.
“Where did you say you were from again?” Ary asked, and I realized my ignorance had given me away once more.
“I… I’ve just never seen him change,” I said. “We never… I mean, I guess he had no reason to. Our time traveling together has been relatively uneventful so far.” I prayed she couldn’t hear the lie in my voice.
“I guess that makes sense,” she said. “Talon says it isn’t just Oak’s body that changes. His mind goes all feral, too. When he shifts, he stops thinking like a man and starts thinking like an animal. He’s faster and stronger and more ferocious than any beast you’ve ever seen, able to conquer any threat he encounters, but it comes at a cost—he can’t tell friend from foe.” She leaned closer, keeping her voice low. “See that scar on Talon’s face? That’s from one of the Mighty Oak’s manticore claws. And the scars on his chest are even worse.”
“He hurt Talon?”
“He nearly killed him. Talon doesn’t like to talk about it much, for obvious reasons, but he’s never hidden the truth from us, either.” She sat back. “He says that it’s a reminder of just how strong the Mighty Oak truly is—not just because he has access to such ferocity, but also because the human side of him remains so steadfast and good even though that beast is contained inside him. Talon says that after the incident where he was hurt, the Mighty Oak vowed to tame the beast, but he could never get it fully within his control. So now he only changes when absolutely necessary.”
“Oh.” That explained why he’d never changed in front of me. I could only imagine the guilt he’d felt after what he’d done to his friend. “How old where they when it happened?”
“Not much younger than me now, I think,” she replied. “Seventeen, maybe eighteen? It was the first time Talon had ever seen him shift, the first time he realized his friend even had this ability. He doesn’t know when it really started, or where it came from. The Mighty Oak didn’t want to tell him.”
I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around this, trying to imagine the handsome, charming man I knew as some sort ofcreature. “What does he look like? As a manticore, I mean.”
“Talon says he’s as big as a horse. With the body and head of a lion. And these big, beautiful wings covered in bronze feathers.”
Something tickled at the back of my mind, and I suddenly remembered one of the murals we’d passed on our way here—the one depicting a winged, lion-like beast standing on a rocky mountain peak. I’d paused to stare at it, drawn to that brutal, majestic creature, but Octavian had quickly moved me along. “Wait—was that him in the mural we passed before? The winged lion on the mountaintop?”
Again, Ary gave me a weird look, her eyebrows raised.
“No, that was Leonaris,” she said slowly and with exaggerated patience, as if she were explaining something obvious to a seven-year-old. “The Mythic One?”
I was afraid to say anything else, afraid that any of the hundred questions I had would further reveal me as someone who definitely didn’t belong here. So instead I gave a little laugh.
“Of course,” I said lightly. “I knew that. It’s just been a long couple of days and I’m running on practically no sleep and…” I didn’t have a good way to finish that sentence.
Fortunately, I didn’t need one. Any suspicion or confusion in Ary’s eyes disappeared immediately. “I didn’t even think of that. You must be exhausted.” She rose, gesturing for me to do the same. “I can take you to one of our spare rooms. That way you can rest up and have your energy for the Festival tonight. Let me just tell Talon.”
The thought of getting a few hours of uninterrupted sleep sounded too good to pass up. Now that I’d admitted it out loud, my exhaustion weighed down on me, and I was honestly surprised I could hold myself upright.
Ary darted down to the end of the table and bent down to speak softly to Talon, who flicked his kohl-rimmed eyes briefly in my direction and nodded. I glanced at Octavian, who stood up as soon as our eyes met, then came around the end of the table to me.
“Ary said she’s going to take me to one of the spare rooms so I can nap for a bit,” I explained, though I assumed he’d already gathered that much. “I’m assuming that’s okay…that we’re going to be here for a little while?”
He nodded. “We’re probably safer here than anywhere else in the town. I’ll get the word to my brothers about where we are.” His eyes gazed down into mine, and he added, softly, “Are you all right here?”
I glanced passed him to the ragtag group of people hanging around the table—people who practically worshiped Octavian, who’d worked and waited foryearsfor his return. They were odd, but they seemed friendly enough—at least to my admittedly untrained instincts.
