Page 53 of By the Orchid and the Owl
I eased myself to a stand, careful not to rustle the ferns behind me. Nobody glanced my way, not even Jenia, who was whispering, as always, to Dazmine and Fergus.
“To further clarify,” Mrs. Wildenberg was saying, her eyes closed, “a faster tempo usually means a positive reaction, so if you’re going to ask a question…”
I snuck through the jumble of vines and trees and ferns, away from her warbling lesson, before she could finish that sentence.
Jagaros was already sitting on his haunches in a clearing surrounded by irises.
“Rayna Drey. You look just as anxious as the last time I saw you.”
I moved forward to run a hand through his fur, and he closed his eyes, sighing.
“The anxiety faded for a bit,” I explained, “but it’s back now that the first test is tomorrow.”
“Ahh, the test.” Jagaros leaned into my touch. “But not the real one, right?”
“No,” I sighed. “The real one’s in five years. But this one will be a good indicator of how I’m doing so far, so I really don’t want to mess it up.”
Jagaros flopped down, crossing his giant paws. I sat down next to him to continue my strokes, this time along the rippling ridge of his spine.
I opened my mouth to ask him where he’d been, but he interrupted with, “Tell me of your training.”
Training. The word alone sounded laughably absurd in reference to my sector. Just in the last few days, I’d glimpsed Element Wielders learning how to throw fireballs combat-style and Shape Shifters hurtling themselves into one another in different animalistic forms, yet here we were among the flowers. Meditating.
I pushed down my snort. Recollected my thoughts.
“Well, I know the basic preferences of every animal within a ten-mile radius of the Institute, so I know how to get on their good sides. I’ve befriended some monkeys, a crocodile, a mouse, a handful of capybaras, and maybe-sort-of a tapir who literally quakes in his hooves when I so much as say hello. But I can’t talk to insects or plants very well.”
Indeed, the only time I’d gotten either one to do as I asked was that one time with the fire ants and when I’d had the grass trip up Terrin during pentaball.
The orchids and the other flowers still wouldn’t answer my questions about my power. Or Coen’s, Garvis’s, Terrin’s, or the twins’ power. I’d asked about all of us. To no avail.
“I see,” Jagaros said over the buildup of his deep, rumbling purr. “Perhaps,” he added as if he’d read my mind, “you should ask them different questions.”
I gnawed on my lips and sucked in a quick breath through my nose.
“A crow told me you were king of Eshol, but he wouldn’t elaborate.” I purposely didn’t mention the letter that particular crow had taken off with; Fabian still hadn’t written back, or maybe he was unable to. “And my friend Willa—”
“Willa?”
“The mouse,” I said. “And myfriend, like I said, so don’t you dare even fantasize about eating her.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jagaros said, licking his maw.
“I’d hope not, because she’s the sweetest, most loyal little thing you’ll ever meet. Not that I want you to meet her,” I added, and he huffed. “But anyway, she refuses to talk about you. Just scurries off whenever I mention your name.”
Jagaros said nothing.
“And,” I pressed, “Mr. Conine said there’s no known monarchy among the animals of Eshol, no hierarchy that would suggest such a thing as kings or queens.”
Still, Jagaros said nothing, but his purring hesitated.
“So I guess I’m asking you what the hell that crow was talking about?” I couldn’t help the questioning tone that crept into my voice. “Sorry, is it rude to ask a tiger about his royalty status?”
“Yes,” Jagaros answered. “Yes, it is, but I will oblige because I happen to like you more than most humans.” He flicked his tail once. “I am a king, yes, but of a long-forgotten past, when faeries still ruled this island. Most of the animals have forgotten, but the birds have an annoying propensity to pass stories down from generation to generation.”
I paused with my fingers woven deep in his fur.
“The faeries ruled a thousand years ago, though.”
