Page 108 of Sweetling
The first to approach was the formidable manticore Balar. The eldest of his pride of brothers, the tawny male was something of the village mayor. Allarion knew him to be a somewhat surly male, although level-headed compared to his brothers, but he was all smiles and shining golden mane and swishing tail as he came to greet them, his leonine eyes fixed on Molly.
“Well now,” the manticore boomed, “it’s about time you introduced us to your bride!”
Balar held up his paw—five fingers like human or fae, though the palm side was rounded with sensitive pads and each finger tipped in a wicked, if retracted, claw. His feline nose wrinkled as he smiled wide, revealing long upper fangs and sharp front teeth.
Allarion could feel how Molly’s heart thudded in her chest, but she still gave over her hand for Balar to kiss with his bisected lips. He couldn’t help scowling when the manticore tickled her with his whiskers, making her laugh—which only deepened when he remembered manticores spread their scent with their lips and tongue.
“And who are you, kitten?”
“Molly Dunne. Who are you, tom cat?”
Balar’s golden eyes glittered up at them as he said, “She’s lovely, Allarion. No wonder you stole her.”
Molly hooted with laughter, Bellarand stomped and whinnied, and Allarion scowled as he grumbled, “He is Balar.”
More gathered round to greet them—or at least get a look at Allarion’sazai.He recognized all of Balar’s fellow manticores, as well as several of the half-orcs and two of the harpies, Maritza, the eldest, and Andreen.
“Come, sit by our fire,” said Balar, “share all your news.”
“Next time, my friend. We are on our way home after days away, and we must return.”
Balar nodded agreeably. “Come to tease us, I see.”
“To warn you.”
That caused a bit of a stir, a few stepping closer. Balar’s rounded ears flattened against his mane.
“About?”
Allarion succinctly explained the letter from King Darius, as well as his answer to Princess Isolde. Balar and the others listened with grave expressions, mouths pulled down around fangs and tusks.
“I encourage you all to meet the princess, she is a clever child. I have hope for Eirea’s future.”
“It sounds like her father will be a problem,” remarked Maritza. Her large violet eyes had gone haunted by the mention of possible war with Caledon. Many harpies had remained in the northern fjords even after others fled the human realms; they still had dealings with humans, but their allyship had cost them dearly in previous battles.
“Perhaps, perhaps not. He is far away yet.” Allarion tried to reassure them, displeased with having to be the one to bring such ominous tidings. “Nothing may come of it, but I thought it pertinent for you to know. The king may circumvent the Darrows to reach out to your village. I thought you should be prepared.”
Balar offered his paw and Allarion took it to shake firmly.
“We appreciate the warning, my friend.”
“If you are ever in need, you have only to send word to Scarborough. You are always welcome there.”
Balar and the others nodded in thanks.
His task done and burden relieved, Allarion found the worry inside him replaced with a new sort of pride. He was proud of the work accomplished to found this village, and though he’d never closely associated with any of those there, he still counted them as allies, friends. They had all fought alongside Lady Aislinn and Hakon when her brother threatened Dundúran, proving their loyalty and bravery.
When his work on the estate was complete, Allarion determined to extend his magic and reach south, toward their village. A line of communication would be useful, especially if the village was ever in need of him.
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, with a promise to come visit soon as well as for Balar and anyone else who wanted to, to come see the estate in spring. Allarion shook hands with Balar, his brothers, Maritza, and a few of the halflings before it was time to bid them farewell.
Balar waved them back toward the road. “Go on and get your pretty new bride home,” he laughed, throwing Molly a lascivious wink. “Until next time, kitten.”
Molly waved as Bellarand turned. “It was nice to meet you, tom cat!”
It wasn’t Balar’s flirting that kept Allarion hot under his high collar the rest of the ride to Scarborough, although he did have the uncharitable hope that when Balar found his own mate, he’d understand the agony of not simply hoarding her away but having to share her with others.
No, what kept Allarion painfully aware of everything around him—namely, Molly and her lush form pressed to him from groin to shoulder—was the implication of Balar’s parting teasing.
