King of the Wilds - Tasha Black Page 0,9
energy between his palms.
“Whoa,” she breathed before she could stop herself.
“In our realm, Tristan is the King of Light,” Bron told her. “And Dorian is the King of Darkness.”
Holy crap. These guys really weren’t kidding around.
“And what are you?” Miranda asked, trying to play it cool. “The king of mid-afternoon snacktime?”
Bron threw his head back and laughed. It was a deep, booming sound that made Miranda feel instantly at home.
“I’m the King of the Wilds,” he told her. “The creatures and plant life are my domain.”
She nodded. Somehow, that made perfect sense.
“Sara is a bard,” Tabitha said. “She can sing magic songs. And I’m a mender. I fix broken things.”
“Seriously?” Miranda asked.
She had never met anyone with powers like hers. Or anyone who was so direct about something so unusual. As much as these two had resented her ability to compel, it sounded like they had their own unfair advantages.
Maybe that was why she felt a sort of kinship with them, despite their differences. It was too bad the other women didn’t feel the same.
“How does your magic work?” Sara asked Miranda. “Maybe we can use it against the fachan.”
Miranda shook her head. “I don’t really know,” she admitted. “I never really thought about it as magic. It was just… something I could do. I’ve spent most of my life trying to restrain it. I’ve only recently tried to use it. I think it’s getting stronger.”
The other two women nodded.
“It’s been like that with us for a while as well,” Sara confided. “But it’s definitely gotten more intense since these guys arrived on the scene.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Miranda said, unsure of whether it actually did or not.
“Let’s find this thing,” Bron said suddenly, surveying the tree line in a decidedly suspicious way.
“What’s the plan?” Sara asked.
“Let’s split up into groups of two,” Tabitha suggested. “We can cover more ground that way. Just yell if you see anything. Tristan and I will go through the woods to the north of the trail. You and Dorian go south.”
“We’ll go straight down the path,” Bron said to Miranda.
Miranda nodded, trying not to take it personally.
It was painfully clear that Tabitha wanted to split up because she didn’t want to spend another minute with Miranda.
It doesn’t matter if she likes me, Miranda told herself. It’s not like we’re all going to be best friends or something. I’m just helping them with this one task.
“Ready?” Bron asked.
His green eyes glimmered in the moonlight. He was the size of a mountain, but his expression was that of a kid on Christmas.
“You really love it out here, don’t you?” she asked him.
“Oh yes,” he replied. “Don’t you?”
“I’m really more the indoors-y type,” she admitted.
“You must not be doing it right,” he told her as they started down the path.
“How am I doing it wrong?” she asked, laughing.
“First of all, those clothes you had on earlier were all wrong,” he told her. “You can’t enjoy the forest when you’re fighting against it just to walk.”
“That’s fair,” she said. “But I’m dressed pretty appropriately now. Why am I not loving it?”
“Because you’re not paying attention,” he said. “Listen.”
She listened.
Night birds cried out and the cicadas made up a chorus behind the birdsong. Otherwise, it was silent except for the sound of their feet on the path.
“It’s quiet, but kind of spooky,” she offered.
“Why is it spooky?” he asked.
“The way the birds are crying out,” she said. “It sounds like they’re warning us off.”
He chuckled. “That’s a robin,” he said. “Do you know why he’s singing?”
“No idea,” she admitted.
He listened for a moment.
“He’s looking for a mate,” he told her gruffly.
Something about this made her smile.
“I didn’t think robins were nocturnal,” she said.
“They aren’t,” he replied sadly. “There’s too much light near your mortal cities. It’s thrown him off.”
“I guess he’s not going to find a date after all,” Miranda said.
“Not until morning, most likely,” Bron told her.
“Well, I hope he finds her then,” Miranda said.
Suddenly the birdsong wasn’t so creepy.
“Just a moment,” Bron said.
She paused.
He lifted his chin and let out an ethereal whistle in the same key the robin had been singing.
There was a moment of silence and then another birdcall from the trees.
A slight breeze and a rustle of feathers later and the King of the Wilds had a bird on his shoulder.
“It is night time, little friend,” Bron told the creature softly.
The bird cocked his head.
“Rest now, find your mate in the morning,” Bron said.
The robin chirruped out a low note and fluttered into