3. Coral

Chapter 3

Coral

T he larkspur are being difficult.

They’re gorgeous flowers, and I love them. Long, trailing stems that grow delicate tubular flowers, each a vivid blue color that entices the bees to come inside like nothing else. I try to encourage them to grow in my space, because they’re also quite toxic, and any ill-informed deer shifter could eat them and get hurt. Given that the pack often runs a lot of jeep tours, with a variety of shifters on them, I’ve done my best to coax larkspur to bloom in my meadow instead of out there in the world.

But right now, they’re clammed up in buds that absolutely refuse to bloom, and I’m getting mixed signals as to why. They make beautiful dried flowers as well, which is part of why I have so many of them. There are a few shifters in the pack who like to make lotions, and the dried larkspur flowers make a nice decoration for the tops of the jars. But they have to bloom first in order to get to that stage.

I huff, looking at a patch in front of me. I need to go deeper, I think.

Plopping onto the ground, I dig my fingertips into the dirt. Sometimes connecting with the soil and understanding the macros can help me to understand what’s going on, even if the plant itself doesn’t quite know yet.

When my fingers touch the soil, a shiver of power ripples through me.

Okay, let’s see. There are worms, that’s good, it seems like the rhizome networks from the grasses are intact and healthy. Aspen roots that want to encroach on…

Ah. That’s it.

Sometimes plants have arguments over resources. In this case, it’s an aspen grove. Aspen are actually all genetically one organism, if they’re in a grove together. They spread over hillsides, colonizing huge swaths of land, but since they’re all clones of the same organism that spreads through their roots, they’re really just one, very large, very dominating plant.

This tends to upset the other plants, who aren’t nearly as competitive. They think the aspen is a bully.

I sigh, shifting so that I can send my magic toward the aspen. I tug at it, urging it to spread its roots around the meadow, instead of going through it.

Water.

Yeah, yeah. The pushback is something that I expected.

There’s water everywhere, friend. You just need to know where to look.

The aspen considers this. Easy water.

Ha. Well, that’s true. The meadow is close to a very nice aquifer and has a little brook that runs through it as well. But there’s a deeper, older water table down the hill slightly. It leads to the lake that the pack uses for fishing and recreation.

I send thoughts of the lake to the aspen. The cool water lapping at the shores of rock. The rain in the summer running down the ravines and pooling in the lake.

The aspen grumbles but accepts my plan. It adjusts root hairs and small capillaries to reflect a new growth direction.

I turn my attention back to the larkspur. There. It won’t come block your sun.

Opening my eyes, I smile as the buds on the larkspur burst open.

Mission accomplished.

I stand, dusting my fingertips off on the edge of my garden apron. There’s a particularly sticky piece of dirt that I’m not sure what it is. I’m so focused on it that I don’t notice when someone crosses into the meadow.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice rumbles from behind me.

I can’t help it. I jump like I’m a startled deer, and I bound a full two feet forward before I freeze and remember that I currently look like someone terrified of their own shadow.

“Shit. Shoot. Sorry. Um. So sorry, I thought you knew I was standing here.”

I look up. I can’t help the blush that floods my face.

Nolan is standing right in front of me. He seems so incredibly close. I’m used to seeing him from a very, very safe distance. This time, he’s so close that I can see how the sunlight filters through his hair, sparking different colors of brown to emerge. Or how his hazel eyes look almost green against the green of my meadow. Or how big he is. Or how good he smells, like sage and oak. Or…

A piece of meadow grass brushes against my foot, jarring me out of my reverie. I’m acutely aware of how I’m obsessing over him. I look down, so that I’m not making continued, awkward eye contact with him.

I really need to get out more .

The isolation explains it. There’s no other reason for me to be so… bent out of shape about him. That’s it. I’m just out of practice with my social skills. Nothing to worry about.

There’s a noise, like he’s clearing his throat.

Oh. He’s still standing there, staring at me, and I haven’t said anything to him. What was the last thing he said? It was in that really nice, deep, rumbling voice…

“I swear, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Nolan. I’m one of the pack’s… I’m helping with security in the pack,” he says.

Nolan. Lyra told me his name earlier, but for the fae, names hold a lot of power. Giving someone your name in person, yourself, is different than hearing it from someone else. It’s a magic that I feel uncomfortable holding, because Nolan doesn’t know he’s given it to me.

He’s staring at me now.

Oh. Right.

I’m supposed to give him my name, too.

The urge to tell him my true name is very, very strong. He gave me his, without any kind of expectation or understanding about what it means. But I shouldn’t do that.

“I’m… Coral,” I say haltingly.

Nolan’s eyebrows raise, and I know that I’ve done something weird. Again.

“Are you sure?”

I blink. “What?”

“You just… you said your name like you weren’t really sure who that was. So I was just asking if you were sure your name was Coral.”

I look down. “Oh.”

“Shit. Listen. Sorry. I was just trying to be funny. Obviously you know what your name is?—”

“It’s a fae thing. Names are really important for us. We all have kind of like a nickname and a full name.”

Nolan nods, his gaze blissfully neutral and fully accepting of the information. “So is Coral your full name?”

“No,” I say quietly. “It’s what I want people to call me, though.”

“Ah. I see.”

There are four heartbeats of awkward silence. It’s enough to make me feel like my skin is itching.

Nolan clears his throat again. “Um. Your fingers. They’re…”

I look down and sigh. There are tiny morning glory vines weaving up from the grasses, extending to touch me in an act of comfort.

Bless you, sweet babies.

“I do that, sometimes. When I’m nervous.”

His eyes widen. “Are you nervous? Is something wrong? I’m here to protect you, so you can tell me if I need to be on the lookout.”

His voice is now low and rough, and I like that a whole lot. Too much, even.

“No, no. It’s just the name thing. It’s a touchy subject.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

I exhale, sucking in a deep breath after. “You didn’t. I’m just being weird about it.”

“That’s okay. If you don’t want me to use any name for you, I won’t,” Nolan says.

I shoot him a look. “What would you say to get my attention?”

He looks down at his feet. “Hey, Meadow Lady?” he says, tentatively.

I laugh. I can’t help it; it’s so ridiculous. The laugh fills the meadow, and the plants titter with me. When I look up, Nolan’s grinning, too, and that’s a sight that almost stops my heart altogether.

He’s so handsome all the time. But when he smiles? He’s downright charming.

“Coral is fine,” I say, the laughter still tugging my lips into a smile. “My full name is close, but full names are reserved for family and loved ones.”

“Noted. You know, my sister has a name like that for me. It’s straight up embarrassing,” Nolan says.

I wrinkle my nose. “I highly doubt that.”

“Oh, it definitely is. I think I’m gonna keep that one quiet, but if you ever hear what it is, you have to promise not to laugh.”

“I won’t,” I say, giving him another look.

Nolan’s eyes sparkle. “Good. I’ll accept that.”

“Well, Nolan. It’s very nice to meet you.” I pull my dress into a curtsy and drop down, then pop back up. “How can I help you?”

He’s staring at me when I ask. Like, really, really staring.

Do I have something on my dress? This one is made from spider silk and a little bit of flax, but it shouldn’t be too dirty…

“Oh. Shit. That’s right.” He startles just like I did. Fumbling, Nolan puts a hand in his pocket and pulls out an envelope. “Thorne sent this for you.”

That’s odd. Thorne comes around in the afternoons sometimes, less so now that he and Iris are preparing for another family member to join, but he still wanders by occasionally. Barring that, he also has the ability to summon me. I gave him a talisman that’s basically a direct line to me. Cell phones tend not to work in my presence, and so if he wants to find me, he has to reach out magically. It's not an emergency beacon or anything like that. It’s literally just a direct line to me, and he’s used it before. So it’s extremely odd for him to send Nolan to deliver something to me.

I take the envelope from him. He turns, like he’s going to go, but I wave at him.

“Stay. I might need you to take a message back to him,” I murmur automatically.

One becomes accustomed to such communication methods when one cannot use a phone, after all.

Nolan shifts on his feet, settling back in. “That makes sense. Good call.”

I open the envelope. Inside, there’s a thick stack of papers. Frowning, I start to look through them.

What I see makes my hands start to shake.

Rogue shifters. They’re not lions, exactly. It’s more a mixed bag of different types of animals, each one with a past, each one a person of interest in a case, which is what Thorne sent me. Each one has been spotted around Oakwood in the past month or so. Almost like there’s some kind of target here that they’re flocking to.

I put the papers down. Thorne scribbled one word on the back of one of the pages, and it’s not particularly helpful.

Wards? It’s not exactly a direction, but I know what he means.

I glance at Nolan. “Thank you. There isn’t a response.”

“Is everything okay?”

I look at him. “Why?”

“You went white as a sheet when you read whatever’s in there. Also, that plant tried to touch you,” he says, pointing to the crabapple tree that’s growing off to my right.

I squint at it, telling it that I’m fine, and the tree leans back to its original position.

“That’s cool,” Nolan says.

“What is?”

“The plants. Do they always try to comfort you when you’re upset?”

I nod, looking at the papers in my hands. “They do. They don’t really experience emotion in the same way we do, so they don’t quite know what to do, but they can read my mind, and I’m often seeking comfort when I’m afraid.”

“Are you?”

I look up. “Am I what?”

“Afraid. Of what’s in there.” Nolan points to the papers.

“Yes,” I whisper. I’m too tired to think of a partial truth, so I just go with what’s there.

“Thorne assigned me to protect you,” Nolan blurts.

I look up at him, a question clear in my eyes.

He looks uncomfortable. “He told me that you might need some extra support. So. I’d like to help.”

“I think I will be okay, but…”

“Please, Coral. Let me keep you safe.”

I look at the paper, then look up at him. Nolan seems nice. He seems like a shifter with a good head on his shoulders, and he’s handsome to look at. He’s tall and strong, and I have no doubt that he can handle himself in a battle.

I’m so tired of being scared. I’m so tired of hiding. Of keeping myself, and everything I know, a secret. Mostly, I’m so tired of being alone that I think I could scream.

Looking down at Thorne’s question, I make my decision. I glance back up at Nolan.

“How much do you know about wards?”