Page 21 of By the Orchid and the Owl
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“Pet me.”
“W-what?”
I’d heard the growl vibrate in the tiger’s throat, but my mind—it had translated the sound automatically into words. Human words.
“Pet me,” the tiger repeated. “I haven’t been petted in ages. I usually eat anyone who gets too close to me, you see, but I’m dying for a good scratch.”
He didn’t have to ask me a third time. My hand shot out to stroke the massive, silky arch between his flicking ears, and the crowd seemed to suck in a gasp.
Beside us, Mr. Gleekle shifted uncomfortably, leaning away.
“Wonderful, wonderful. We have another Wild Whisperer!”
But the cheers that came from my new sector’s section in the stadium sounded more wary than exuberant, the applause hesitant. I’d heard of the rare tiger on Eshol, but never awhiteone. And I’d never, ever heard of one venturing near humans. Even Wild Whispering humans.
“Who are you?” I breathed down at the creature.
“My name is Jagaros.” The tiger closed his eyes, purring.
“I’m Rayna,” I said, swallowing. “Rayna Drey. It’s—it’s nice to meet you.”
Truly, it was. Relief flooded my entire body, washing out all that dread and self-disgust, as I threaded my fingers deeper into his fur. Coen’s pill had worked, suppressing the forbidden power but letting a lawful, normal one creep through.
A Wild Whisperer. I could handle that. Ilikedthat.
“How can you understand me?” I asked him. “I’m not growling, am I?”
Itsoundedlike I was speaking normal human language, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Unlike mortals, animals can understand the strange yapping of your kind even when they can’t usually mimic it to talk back,” Jagaros said. “So no, you are not growling, but I am.The magic acts as a translator for you.”
“Amazing,” I breathed.
Jagaros sighed, the sound a casual snarl in the back of his throat.
“Okay, they’re staring a little too much for my liking. Place your hand on my back and I’ll walk you to your new sector. And Rayna?”
“Yes?” I answered, doing as he instructed and letting him lead me offstage. Everyone indeed stared, their eyes following our movement to the stadium—leaning away, like Mr. Gleekle had, to keep their distance.
“Do not,” Jagaros said, his shoulders shifting to and fro as he prowled forward, “trust a man with a fake smile or a woman who is not a woman at all.”
“Noted.”
I hadn’t even dared to glance at those ice-blue eyes after my Branding. I didn’t dare now, either, but I could feel the sting of her attention on the back of my neck, like two pricks of frigid ice picks.
The fact that a beast as graceful and terrible as Jagaros could also sense her otherworldly presence did nothing to warm me.
And the man with a fake smile—that must be Mr. Gleekle himself.
When we’d finally made it to the stadium and I could see the mass of faces gaping at us in shock up close, the tiger’s skin rippled under my touch.
“Have a good time, then, Rayna Drey. I shall see you again.”
He began slinking away, but I called after him, “Wait! When will that be?”
“Whenever I need more pets,” Jagaros said over his snow-white shoulder. “Which will not be often.” He paused, then, his eyes narrowing at a young man sitting on the first ledge of the stadium. “What areyoulooking at?”
