“Yes,” Dafne said, her voice still watery, and put her hand through the crook of his elbow as she smiled up at him. “And I add my thanks. With three magical and ferocious godmothers, our Salena shall surely lead a long and healthy life.” A hopeful lilt lifted the end of her words into a question, her gaze sliding to me.
“You’re banging your head against a wall,” Zynda’s voice rang loud with some impatience. “He’ll shift back when he’s comfortable and not before. You can’t make him shift.”
Grateful for the distraction, I seized on it. “Sounds like they need help.”
Ami strode over, and we all followed, to where the men—Ash, Marskal, and Harlan—had bear-cub Astar corralled, Stella still clinging to Ash’s back. Zynda flashed me an exasperated grimace. “Unless someone cares to force the matter.”
“What do you mean?” Ami asked, a line between her brows.
“The King and Queen of the Tala can force shapeshifting,” Zynda explained. “Usually it’s a punishment, but occasionally the authority can be used to solve a problem. Every once in a while, a child needs the nudge. That is, if the child can shift at all.” A ghost of grief crossed her face, quickly banished as she added, “Which is not Willy’s issue.”
“Go ahead then, Andi,” Ami said, hands on her hips as she gazed at her obstinate son.
“I don’t have that ability,” I admitted, “as I came so late to shapeshifting in general. Rayfe handles those instances.”
“Where is King Rayfe?” Ami asked. Though no one shushed her, the uncomfortable silence greeting her question had a quelling effect.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” I replied, with easy confidence I didn’t feel.
“And here I am.” Rayfe prowled through our audience, coming from higher up the road. “Andromeda.” He lifted my hand and kissed it, lips cool, eyes inscrutable as the deepest ocean, mind tightly shuttered. “Greetings all. I apologize that I was not here to welcome you to Annfwn. Is this small bear the reason for so much consternation?”
“Hello, heart-brother.” Ami swanned up to Rayfe, kissing him on each cheek, smiling merrily as if there had been no tension whatsoever. “My terrible son refuses to shift back.”
Astar growled, wagging his ursine head. Rayfe growled back, and Astar froze, blinking at him.
“I can force him to shift, yes,” he said to Ami, “but I agree with Zynda. Let him be. He likely feels more secure as a bear in a strange place, with strange people, and so much chaos.”
I gave him a questioning look, wondering how long he’d been eavesdropping without announcing himself, but he avoided my gaze.
“But I’m given to understand that it’s unhealthy for him to stay in animal form too long.” Ami’s brow wrinkled further in her concern.
“‘Too long’ is days,” Zynda replied. “Not hours.”
“Let him and Stella go play and have lessons with the other children,” Rayfe said. “He’ll shift back when he needs words. Or hands.”
“He always does,” Ash agreed in his hoarse voice, bowing his head to Rayfe. “But we understand the training arena was compromised?”
“Indeed it was,” Rayfe replied. “Which is why I’ve been working on a new, more protected location, with dedicated guards.” He swept a hand, and the crowd parted again to admit a cadre of Hawks and shapeshifter fighting pairs, Zyr and Karyn leading them. She, too, wore her fighting leathers—the ones she’d found in n’Andana—and she carried both a recurve and a crossbow, along with several quivers of arrows. Zyr looked as he always did, in the clothing he habitually returned to when he shifted to human form. Of course, his weapons manifested when he wasn’t in that form. Why carry a weapon when you had formidable claws?
“These are our best teams, Tala and human,” Rayfe continued. “They’ll take Astar and Stella to the new, secure training ground, where the other children will gather to practice and play. The Tala take protection of our children very seriously.” He glanced at me meaningfully as he said it, though I wasn’t sure what response he looked for. I managed a regal nod and smile, proud of myself until his gaze drifted to the crown and rubies—and hardened at the sight.
Ami was kissing the twins goodbye, issuing motherly instructions while they both squirmed to get gone. Some of the guard shifted to animal form, cavorting as the human throats sang a Tala children’s song, and they all danced away. Except for Zyr and Karyn, who remained for the meeting.
Zynda drifted over to me. “That meeting you requested?” she said in a low voice. “At your convenience following this session.”
“What’s this about?” Rayfe demanded of me, suspicion creasing his brow. I didn’t know how to reply, trying to recall which meeting I’d requested of Zynda.
“With Shaman,” she reminded me in a discreet mental tone.
Ah, right. “With Healer Kelleah,” I told Rayfe, offhandedly so he wouldn’t detect the prevarication. I hated lying to him, but I knew well how he felt about Shaman and what he called the Cult of Moranu. This was something I needed to do, and I did not need to fight with him about it. Besides, it wasn’t precisely a lie, since I intended to see Kelleah also. “You’d suggested that I have her examine me, yes?”
He nodded curtly, as always anxious to drop that topic of discussion. “Shall we convene? I believe we were promised breakfast.” Rayfe indicated the entrance to the council chambers, gesturing at the doorway, formally offering me his arm. He didn’t move immediately, however, instead hanging back as the others preceded us.
“Thank you for handling the safety of the children,” I said, squeezing his arm, figuring this would be a safe topic of discussion. “That was well done. I didn’t think to move the training arena elsewhere.” It actually hadn’t occurred to me that it could be moved.
“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to,” he replied, in that coolly neutral tone. “There’s a long history of it that you wouldn’t know about.”
Ah, so we weren’t done slicing at each other. The thought made me weary. And after the warmth of talking with Dafne and my sisters, I felt the chill all the more. I clung to my resolve not to fight with him, as it seemed to only make things worse. “Still,” I said, trying to keep my voice and thoughts light, “you reassured Ami on several levels and that was kind of you.”
“Mossbacks have no business raising shapeshifter children,” he said, a growl rolling in his voice. “I regret agreeing to this arrangement. Stella and Astar should have stayed in Annfwn, with their own kind.”
That fast, my resolve crumbled—and rage billowed up in me at his cruel attitude and careless assumptions. At least it burned away the chill. I removed my hand from his arm, letting him feel my anger. “You don’t get to decide to take a mother’s children from her,” I hissed, feeling as if steam came out of my ears at the same time. Nor did he have any business criticizing my baby sister. “How—or where—my sister raises her babies isn’t something you get to agree to or not.”
He assessed me with hard eyes, his gaze flicking over the still dispersing gathering. “Have a care, Andromeda,” he said quietly. “You will be overheard. You don’t want to embarrass yourself. Any more than you already have.”
I wanted to scream at him that I didn’t care, but I knew I’d regret losing my temper. “What is wrong with you?” I demanded through gritted teeth. “The last few days it’s as if I don’t even know you anymore.”
His face chilled further, into icy lines of disdain. “I haven’t changed. You’re the one acting unhinged lately.”
“Call me crazy one more time,” I warned, fury boiling through me to crackle in the air. My hair lifted with the static magic.
Rayfe leaned in, nose nearly touching mine. “Control yourself, Andromeda.”
I growled, inarticulate with the need to blast that supercilious look clean off his face.
“What are you going to do?” he asked, a taunting note in the question. “Perhaps you should storm off to your rocks to sulk while the grownups keep their tempers and plan this war.�
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Perversely, rather than enraging me further, the painful shock of those words acted like a cold ocean wave, bitter anguish dousing all anger. I stared at him, struggling to grasp how things had gone so foul between us. I straightened, letting the magic settle back into my blood, my hair falling around my bare arms, silky again, not stinging like lashes of fire.
This was about more than giving him room to master the fears my pregnancy aroused in him. This was more than the pressures of war.
“How can you say that to me?” I asked him, raw and honest emotion in my voice. “I understand if you don’t love me anymore. Or if you can’t, or never did. But I don’t understand how you can speak to me with such contempt. You sound like you despise me.”
“I don’t…” He shook his head, shedding the thought. “I’m only asking you to be mature in these conversations.”
“Mature?” My voice cracked on the word. “Even in the beginning, when I was admittedly young and inexperienced in the world, you never talked down to me. You always treated me with respect, as someone…” Ah, how it hurt my heart to think he’d changed his mind in this. “Admirable. And now you speak to my toddler nephew with more respect than you give me.”
He gazed back at me, something of his old self stirring deep in his eyes. “Andromeda—I didn’t mean… That is…” Again, he didn’t finish. I waited, hoping he’d say something to allay my worst fears, but he seemed to be floundering. Finally he said, “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”
I nodded, because that was true. And because I needed time and space to think, to harden my heart against him and his careless slights, before we went another round in this fight. “Dafne and Nakoa are naming their daughter Salena,” I informed him, taking refuge in cool formality. “She’s a lovely, healthy baby girl. If you intend to join us in the council chambers, she’s with Dafne. You might offer them congratulations. That’s a tradition of my people it would behoove you to honor.” I turned to go inside and he caught my arm.
“Andromeda…”
I raised an eyebrow, glad I could maintain that much remove. Waited. Hoped for… I didn’t know anymore. Still he seemed unable to find words.
“We’d best go in,” I finally said.
“I suppose so,” he replied on a sigh.
I nodded and walked away, not bothering to see if he followed.
Everyone was seated around the table, plates filled, conversation burbling. The discussion fell off noticeably as I entered the room, then several people valiantly picked it up again with renewed vigor. I pretended not to notice, just as I planned to make sure no one noticed the bleeding hole in my heart.
I slipped into my chair, noting that some thoughtful soul had filled a plate for me, and that a pot of tea sat ready, with my favorite teacup clean and waiting. I poured some tea and sipped, cupping the warm, gaily painted cup in hands gone icy with despair, willing myself to thaw, to steady. A moment later Rayfe strode in. He paused by Nakoa and Dafne, offering him a handshake and Dafne a pat on the shoulder. He even bent over to peer at little Salena’s face, saying something I couldn’t hear, but that made the proud parents smile widely.
The charming smile he’d put on for them faded as he sat beside me. “Happy now?” he inquired in a silky tone that didn’t fool me for a moment.
Since I had no good answer—and no energy to fight with him anymore, maybe ever—I simply thanked him, set my teacup down, and began eating. He paused a moment, as if expecting more from me, then reached for a platter and filled his own plate. He ate with efficient speed, chewing with more vigor than required, making me wonder if he imagined biting more chunks out of me instead.
“Ursula,” I said, when Rayfe appeared to be making no move to lead the discussion, “would you summarize our status for the new arrivals? And to help us all sort priorities and next steps?”
“Certainly. Including your most recent vision?”
“If Harlan agrees.”
He nodded to her inquiring look, so she shoved her plate aside and began speaking. Dafne had handed little Salena to Nakoa, deftly extracting a book bursting with bits of loose paper, parchment, even strips of leather. She arranged pieces as Ursula spoke, situating them in groups, and also making notes on a fresh sheet of paper. Moranu bless her.
I’d always admired Ursula’s ability to memorize facts and keep them in order, particularly as they pertained to her role as High Queen. With succinct ease, she laid out the major players, current status, and possible courses of action. Dafne, long accustomed to working with Ursula, seemed to keep up fine.
“Dafne,” Ursula said on finishing, “would you recap from your notes?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I should—”
“Let’s keep to first names in these sessions,” Ursula interrupted. “There are enough titles and honorifics in this room to stymie even the most diligent courtier.”
“Uh oh, gréine.” Zyr tugged on Karyn’s hair. “Whatever will you do?”
“Hush,” she hissed at him.
Dafne cleared her throat. “As I was about to say, I should mention that Kiraka is listening in, and Djakos through her. They may ask me to pass along various insights and questions.”
“Fine by me.” Ursula waved a hand for Dafne to continue.
I stopped Dafne. “Rayfe?” I asked pointedly.
He gave me a glittering glance for forcing his hand, but I wasn’t going to have him claim his authority had been circumvented again. “Fine by me, also,” he said diffidently, lounging back in his chair with deliberately assumed indolence.
“My apologies, Rayfe,” Ursula said. “Perhaps you should lead this session, as we are in your territory.”
Dafne and Ami looked between us, clearly wondering at the undercurrents, while the others maintained a level of watchfulness.
“Not at all, heart-sister,” Rayfe replied, startling me by taking my hand. His felt hot, so I knew mine still retained the chill of the hurts he’d delivered. “Lead away. You’re so good at it.”
Dafne cast a doubtful glance at Ursula, then consulted her list. Rayfe continued to hold my hand, his fingers gliding over my skin in a way that felt not at all reassuring, and even vaguely threatening. All wrong. Even in the beginning, when Rayfe had frightened me with his ruthless declarations that he’d drag me to Annfwn kicking and screaming if necessary, I hadn’t felt this kind of threat from him.
I pulled away with the excuse of pouring more tea, and glimpsed a small, satisfied smile curve his lips, as if he’d won a point in whatever game he played. So wrong. He’d never been anything less than direct with me. I would’ve said he didn’t have it in him to be evasive and mean-spirited. The last few days it’s as if I don’t know you anymore. Was there more truth in those words I’d flung out in anger than I’d realized?
“I’ve listed people into columns,” Dafne was saying, and I made myself pay attention. “They’re categorized as enemy leaders, their allies, neutral parties, our leaders, and our allies. Leaders of our enemies are: Emperor Hestar, Dowager Empress Hulda, the high priestess of Deyrr, and likely the demigod Deyrr Himself. Hestar controls the Dasnarian military forces, acting as commander in chief, with his brother Mykal most likely in charge of the navy. Also under Hestar, we assume that the brothers remaining in Dasnaria—Leo and Loke—also support Hestar, possibly in charge of other military branches.”
“Though we don’t know that for sure,” Harlan temporized.
“Lacking intelligence to the contrary, however,” Ursula said, “it’s a good assumption.” He conceded with a reluctant nod.
“Hulda is an enemy who may be working against Hestar,” Dafne continued, “possibly allied with the high priestess, who I’ve listed as a third enemy leader. She’s aided by an incarnation of Deyrr. It’s not clear if she controls Him or vice-versa. Allied with her are at least ten less-senior priests and priestesses of Deyrr,” she looked for confirmation to Karyn, who nodded, “all of whom we must presume to have at least equivalent
power to Illyria’s. We must also consider all of n’Andana’s population as belonging to the high priestess.”
A thick silence fell as everyone contemplated those numbers.
“Also Kir,” Ami said, exchanging a look with Ash. “Former priest of Glorianna. Jepp saw him in the Imperial Palace with Hestar and the high priestess. He should be on the list of enemy leaders, and traitors.”
~ 10 ~
Dafne held her quill poised. “Keeping in mind that we’re aren’t certain of the alliances between the three major enemy factions, would you put Kir as allied with Hestar, Hulda, or the high priestess?”
Ami looked to me and Ursula.
“He is allied with the high priestess,” Ash spoke, bitterness edging his already rough voice, his scarred face grim. “If she is locating people with latent shapeshifter blood and forcing them into animal form to make sleeper spies and other mind-controlled members of her army, as we’re fairly sure she’s been doing, then Kir is in the thick of it. I’m certain he and his people are behind the disappearances of the ex-patriot Tala and others with Tala ancestry, whether they’re aware of that fact or not.”
“But how?” Ami asked. “He no longer has the doll that Mother left me. Without its magic, how can he locate those with shapeshifter bloodlines?”
“Maybe that’s why he needed Deyrr,” Ash replied darkly. “Salena made those dolls with blood magic, not dissimilar to what Deyrr uses. Could be Illyria taught or gave him the means. I just know that someone is always there ahead of us, and those people are going somewhere we can’t find. He knows our ways, and he has the motivation. Could be he has the blood magic spell to do what the doll did—only with more power and precision.”
“And in exchange, he betrayed us to Deyrr,” Ursula inserted in a hard voice. “It makes sense. Let’s go with that assumption unless we learn otherwise.”
“How did Salena learn blood magic?” Dafne asked. “I don’t want to go off on a tangent if it’s not important, but I thought blood magic was part of Deyrr’s worship, not Moranu’s.”
The Fate of the Tala Page 12
