Page 9 of Alien Charming

“My niece is simple and easily confused,” she said dismissively. “Any knowledge of plants she possesses comes from the basic gardening tasks I’ve assigned to keep her occupied. She lacks the capacity for anything more complex.”

The lie stung his nostrils like acid, and he barely managed to keep his expression neutral. His beast clawed beneath his skin, enraged at the disparaging comments, but he forced it down.

“I see,” he said, careful to keep his voice even. “Then perhaps we should focus on other resources.”

The mayor relaxed slightly, believing he’d abandoned the subject. “Very well. I understand that there is an old trade?—”

A knock interrupted them. A village clerk entered, carrying more documents. As the mayor reviewed them, he considered her reaction to his suggestion. It confirmed his suspicions—she deliberately undermined Elli and kept her isolated—but why? What threat could his gentle gardener pose to this power-hungry woman?

The negotiations dragged on for another hour. He conceded some points strategically, and gained ground where it mattered most. Despite his best attempts to focus, his thoughts continually strayed to Elli’s garden, to her shy smile when she’d first seen him.

“We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” she finally declared, gathering her papers.

He nodded, rising to his full height. “Until tomorrow, Mayor.”

As he left the stifling office, he caught a familiar scent—faint but unmistakable—from across the market square. He turned in time to see a small boy knock over a display of pottery. Elli bowed her head, her expression resigned, as the shopkeeper hurried out and began to berate her. The small boy who had actually caused the accident hid behind his mother’s skirts.

“Clumsy and simple, just like your aunt says,” the shopkeeper snapped at Elli.

She didn’t attempt to defend herself. Instead, she simply stared at the ground, her hands gripping the handle of her basket as the verbal assault continued. The injustice of it burned through his veins, and his beast growled.

“Apologize to Mr. Tanner,” the boy’s mother demanded, not of her son, but of Elli.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, even though she’d done nothing wrong.

His claws extended. Three strides and he could be across the square. Three more seconds and he could show these people what happened when they mistreated what belonged to him.

“That’s quite enough.” Before he could take action, a tiny silver-haired female stepped between Elli and her accusers, her hands on her hips as she glared at the shopkeeper. “I saw everything, Harold Tanner. That boy knocked over your display while Elli was nowhere near it.”

He breathed a sigh of relief at Agatha’s intervention, his already strong respect for the elderly female increasing. She didn’t hesitate to face down the surrounding crowd, and even the shopkeeper faltered. “Mrs. Ashworth, I?—”

“You what? Thought you’d blame the easiest target?” Agatha’s expression didn’t soften. “Shame on you. And shame on you too, Martha, teaching your boy to let others take punishment for his actions.”

The crowd that had gathered shifted uncomfortably. He remained motionless, watching as this unexpected ally placed a protective hand on Elli’s arm.

“Come, child,” she said, her tone gentler. “Help me carry my packages home.”

The tension in his body eased as Elli was led away from the hostile crowd, his beast subsiding with an unhappy rumble. Agatha glanced in his direction as they passed, her sharp eyes meeting his for just a moment. Something in that gaze—a warning, perhaps—made him step back into the shadows.

The old female knew who he was, and she’d protected Elli when he couldn’t. But as the two of them walked away, he couldn’t help wishing he could be the one at her side—that he could be the one to protect her.

CHAPTER 5

Elli tucked Agatha’s packages carefully into her basket, relieved to escape the judgmental stares of the villagers. The old woman walked with surprising vigor beside her, occasionally tapping her walking stick against the ground for emphasis rather than support.

“You didn’t need to stand up for me,” she murmured gratefully.

“Nonsense. That pompous shopkeeper needed someone to remind him of his manners.” Agatha’s eyes twinkled. “Besides, I’ve never had much patience for bullies. I’m glad I decided to come into the village today.”

The path to Agatha’s cottage wound away from the village, following the road that skirted the foothills and marked the unofficial boundary of Vultor territory. Aunt Margaret would be furious about the delay, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The trees lining the road filtered the heat of the midday sun, and for once she felt something close to peace.

“Your grandmother and I were friends, you know,” Agatha said suddenly. “She had the same gentle way with plants.”

She nearly stumbled. Agatha was the grandmother of one of her school friends, but she’d never realized there was another connection between them. No one ever mentioned her grandmother. “You knew her?”

“Of course. Smartest woman in the village, though few appreciated it.” Agatha glanced sideways at her and shook her head. “Your aunt certainly didn’t when your grandfather married her.”

They crested a small rise, and Agatha’s cottage came into view. Tucked into the edge of the woods at the base of the foothills, it was small but well kept, with a garden that rivaled her own in the variety of plants. Smoke curled from the chimney despite the warm day.

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