Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1)

by Blackwood, Lisa

  Ashayna emerged from a wall of vines to find Sorntar oiling his feathers. He sat sideways on a bench, one leg propped on the stone seat and his left wing bent forward so he could work on the feathers. He glanced up when he saw her. His expression was bland, but she was certain she saw relief in his eyes.

  “When you didn’t show up, I thought I’d come looking. Am I interrupting?” Ashayna asked.

  “Not at all. Lylantra is leaving.”

  Ashayna felt a prickle of envy while she studied the female phoenix. What would it be like to have such lovely smooth skin free of training scars, or to have her golden wings and tail, each feather polished until it glowed under the sun? Or a crest bedecked with jewels and intricate designs inked on the largest feathers? There were also symbols painted on her golden body, their details so precise it made Ashayna’s head hurt just to think of the time involved. A set of armbands finished the display.

  Here was a female to match Sorntar’s majesty.

  The female, obliviously unconcerned by Ashayna’s arrival, stalked forward until she was close enough to run her finger down Sorntar’s arm. He hissed at her and slapped her hand away.

  Ashayna tilted her head in the female’s direction. “If you keep it up, Sorntar’s going to toss your ass in the pool behind you. And that would do nasty things to all your hard work.” Ashayna put humor into her voice. “Why, the paint alone must have taken you hours. I cringe to think what such lovely warm water would do to those polished feathers.”

  “And you are?” The golden-feathered female asked, her voice no longer holding even a hint of her previous seductive tone.

  Ashayna, feeling like a little drab duck, glided by the other female and sat down next to Sorntar. “I am Ashayna Stonemantle. I also have the dubious distinction of being Sorntar’s bondmate.”

  Sorntar held out a small pot of oil. Ashayna blinked at it, and then dipped a bit out on her fingers. After watching how he did it, Ashayna started grooming Sorntar’s wings, applying a thin layer of oil to each individual feather. Lylantra frowned at them for many moments, but turned and vanished through the vines.

  When she was gone, Ashayna dropped the pretense of grooming and held out her pot to Sorntar. He didn’t take it. She tapped him on his shoulder. He stopped preening long enough to glance in her direction, but still didn’t take the pot.

  “You do realize I was only helping you out, don’t you? I’m not actually interested in…whatever this is.”

  “Mutual grooming.”

  “Ah.” She shoved the pot of oil at him again.

  “I rather like your clever fingers. I could use the help.”

  Sorntar watched her through his lashes long enough to raise a blush. She started looking for distractions but was saved hunting by the sound of talons on stone. Lylantra back for more?

  But it wasn’t the golden female. Kandarra parted the undergrowth and nodded when she spotted Ashayna. “There you are.” She took in the scene with a knowing smile. “I should have known. Was it Lylantra I saw leaving? Ran her off, did you? Good.”

  Ashayna groaned. Gossip would spread like a flooded river in spring. Just what she didn’t need.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t nearly as interesting as you’ll make it sound,” Sorntar said. He finished oiling a few last feathers, then stood, shaking them in place. “I still have a couple things to do before the feast tonight. Can you help Ashayna prepare?”

  “Anything for you, brother.” Kandarra nodded vigorously, eyes merry. “I have so much to tell Ashayna about being a bondmate, this is perfect.”

  Ashayna furrowed her brows. “I wish people would stop talking about bondmates. I haven’t done any ‘bonding’ with him, nor do I plan to do any anytime soon,” Ashayna said, trying to ignore Kandarra’s smirk.

  “Very well, I won’t say anything more while I help you get ready for tonight’s feast.”

  * * * *

  The great hall had changed since the last time she’d stood at its empty center. Now its vast space was filled with the scent of a myriad of strange foods. Within was a dizzying number of species, each dressed in unfamiliar fabrics, and, if her eyes were not mistaken, some even boasted iridescent scales. She took in the scene from her vantage point behind one of Kandarra’s wings.

  “Do you plan to come out of hiding tonight?” Kandarra asked in all seriousness.

  “I’m not hiding.” Ashayna managed to take a half step out from behind Kandarra’s shadow when a ripping sound heralded the ruin of her borrowed attire. She glanced down and sighed. The owner of her skirt might be somewhat perturbed to find a small tear the exact size of Ashayna’s boot toe in the draping hem. Maybe they wouldn’t notice, since the tear was almost concealed by the skirt’s moss-green and earth-colored leaf embroidery. The dark green fabric and the lighter colored needlework lent it a feel of an ancient forest—calm and mysterious. That’s where her liking of her finery ended. As for its matching top, it wasn’t much more than a particularly large scarf crisscrossing over her breasts to tie at the back.

  Several table lengths distant, a flash of indigo blue feathers reminded her of Sorntar and all the complications he’d brought to her life. The bond laid heaviest on her mind, for no matter what bonding entailed, it sounded like a threat to her independence. She grudgingly admitted it frightened her.

  While she mulled over her insecurities, Kandarra wove a path through the crowded hall to where Sorntar stood with the young Lupwyn warrior Ardalwyn. Kandarra fell in beside her sibling. Ashayna followed her lead and greeted Ardalwyn first, leaving Sorntar until last.

  Sorntar’s feathers shone with a radiance that spoke of long hours of work. A large band made of hammered gold, inlaid with jewels, circled his throat. Matching armbands formed to his muscular upper arms. What could only be called a paneled kilt stretched from his waist to his knees. Shorter panels flanked a longer middle panel. After a moment’s study, it looked similar to a stylized bird’s tail. Its broad belt matched the golden torque and arm bands.

  Ardalwyn said something in his native tongue and Kandarra smiled. “You’re right. We should visit with Caltanwyn.”

  They excused themselves rather abruptly, leaving Ashayna alone with Sorntar. An awkward silence stretched by. After a moment more, she arched an eyebrow at him.

  “Yes, I know.” He sighed. “Subtle of them.”

  She looked around the room for another distraction, but was saved the dreaded small talk by Marsolwyn’s arrival. A lupwyn of surpassing grace and dignity stood to Marsolwyn’s left. Ashayna’s stomach plummeted with dread. The last time she’d seen this lupwyn, he’d been at a distance, snarling and snapping at her father.

  “This is my mate Ryanth,” Marsolwyn said. Perhaps seeing Ashayna’s look, she amended. “He’s not going to harm you.”

  Ashayna swallowed hard, but managed to nod her head. She wasn’t really paying attention to Marsolwyn—not with the male studying her.

  “I believe my mother wishes to see Ashayna,” Sorntar interrupted. “If you’ll forgive us, we must go.”

  Ashayna could have hugged Sorntar. He led her across the hall, weaving a path around milling groups of strangers. She pretended not to notice hooded looks or wary glances as she hurried after Sorntar. When he slowed, she chanced a glance behind. Marsolwyn had drifted away from her mate to converse with Kandarra, but King Ryanth had been joined by Vinarah and Lylantra. “Sorntar, does Lylantra normally spend a lot of time with King Ryanth? If so, I think that’s another score against him.”

  He glanced back and his expression turned sour. “No, not to my knowledge. Don’t concern yourself with Lylantra. She’ll forget about the baths soon enough.”

  Ashayna wasn’t so sure. The look Lylantra had cast her wasn’t the passionate jealousy of a rival. When Ryanth hunched down until his muzzle was close to the phoenix’s crest and whispered something in her ear, Ashayna’s feeling of misgiving grew. Lylantra shook her head, and then asked something to Vinarah. Vinarah frowned, but nodded. All three continu
ed to stare in Ashayna’s direction. She wished Sorntar would walk faster.

  To her relief, Sorntar quickened his pace as he neared the dais where Queen Talnarra stood to one side of the massive stone table. It had an air of great age, somber bearing, and something more. A slight buzz in her mind, like a strange mixture of sound and feeling, warned Ashayna the table was more than it seemed. It was also the first time since leaving home the magic sleeping within her had stirred awake. Ashayna didn’t know if she should be relieved her magic seemed at peace or worried it had her where it wanted her.

  Drawing closer, Ashayna noticed something strange about the table. For one moment it seemed a number of softly glowing symbols marked its surface, but when she tried to study them, they disappeared. No one else seemed to notice the table’s strange behavior so she held her tongue, but her expression must have given her surprise away, for Queen Talnarra leaned closer.

  “What do you see?” Talnarra asked.

  Ashayna didn’t wish to be the center of more scrutiny, but with a sigh of resignation she answered. “Twelve glowing symbols etched into the wood, spaced equal distance from the others. They remained long enough for me to see their number, then faded away.”

  “A rare gift. More so than ever, I await the discovery of the nature of your power with great interest.” The queen watched her in silence a few heartbeats more, then rejoined the other council members around their crescent shaped table.

  With a sense of growing dread, Ashayna realized Queen Talnarra found her interesting. Now, that was worrisome.

  Sorntar filled his mother’s place, his expression thoughtful. “I heard what mother said and what she did not. Only the council member who holds the seat should be able to see the symbolic representation emblazoned on the wood.”

  “I’ll likely regret this, but what does each symbol represent?”

  “They correspond with the four elements, the four directions and the four seasons.”

  “I see I’ve much to learn before I can understand how unusual I am.” Ashayna laughed. Sorntar joined in, but his tone sounded forced.

  Sorntar named the council members for her. Some she’d already met: Queen Marsolwyn and King Ryanth; a santhyrian stallion who resembled Shadowdancer enough to be family; and Tav, a dour-looking phoenix with a blessedly short name.

  “Those two santhyrians are Shadowdancer’s dame and sire.” He pointed to a bay mare and darker stallion. “Darkmoon is Stallion King and Windrunner Lead Mare. The lone female gryphon is Varlalon. She’ll soon be joined by her great-great-grandson.”

  Ashayna’s head began to hurt. Trying to remember all their names was proving to be too much. She’d be lucky to remember a quarter of what he’d said.

  “The woman next to mother is High Priestess Halnora. She is half human.”

  At Sorntar’s words, Ashayna took a closer look. The one named Halnora did indeed look the most human of any at the table, although purple-black feathers crowning her head spoke of phoenix parentage. That a phoenix and a human could beget children opened a whole new realm of concerns for Ashayna to dwell on.

  “Halnora is an elder, much older than any other present. As High Priestess, she will be present at our testing. Likely I’ll be assessed by her. My mother will test you.”

  “Tested?”

  “A few days after hosts show signs their Larnkins are waking, they undergo a ceremony to see which elder will be best suited to act as mentor. I’m told it’s an uncomfortable experience.”

  “Charming.”

  “She’s coming.” Sorntar’s hand settled in the middle of Ashayna’s back, effectively holding her in place. “Mother probably sent her, and she’ll likely wish to speak with you about the acolytes. And other things.”

  “Do I have time to bolt for safety?”

  He chuckled, but the humor failed to reach his eyes. “No.”

  “I’d settle for just getting away from all the watchful eyes. I’m tired of being stared at.”

  “The gardens are lovely this time of evening, and Priestess Halnora prefers the outdoors.”

  “Any place is better than here.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sorntar lifted his head, reveling in a warm spring evening. He hummed softly, more in time to the wind’s captivating power than the music from his people’s celebration. His wings twitched with each shift of the breeze, and he looked longingly at the night sky. With a sigh, he forced his eyes back to the path ahead.

  In the distance, two shadowy figures came into his line of sight before vanishing into a grove of trees. They soon walked out the other side. Ashayna with her pale skin outlined by her dark hair was easier to see than Priestess Halnora.

  Halnora stopped a moment to examine something growing near the path, but soon urged Ashayna along. Sorntar trailed behind, pretending to ponder his thoughts, when in fact he was too nervous to leave Ashayna alone with the priestess.

  While it was worrisome that she could see the symbols covering the council table, other small things bothered him as well. Not least of which was his Larnkin’s behavior. His power was already vast, and what he’d felt Ashayna draw on was not a slight gift either. Sorntar wanted to say no one had such power, but it was not true. The Twelve Talismans and their wielders possessed such power and greater.

  A shiver slid down his wings at the upheaval required for the Twelve to be born into the world. Neither he nor Ashayna carried the mark of those old powerful ones, blessed or cursed by the Gods. For that he’d be forever grateful. He looked up and was surprised to find his feet had carried him to where Ashayna waited with Priestess Halnora.

  “I’m glad you finally decided to join us,” Halnora said. “Ashayna and I have been discussing some of our histories, the differences in our belief systems.”

  The smoky incense-scent of Halnora’s magic assaulted his nose. He barely registered what the priestess said. Her weaving circled him, a fluttering at the outer edges of his awareness—a harmless spell, one used to create images in the air to accompany a story, but another layer of it tickled at his senses, influencing his mood, relaxing and opening his mind. He slammed his shields back in place. Shaking himself free of the remains of the weaving, he eyed Priestess Halnora warily.

  He understood the benefits of using power, but Halnora’s skills went far beyond what rudimentary training he possessed. Ashayna’s guarded expression told him she was aware. He glanced away while he fought a startling urge to mantle his wings around her—not like she needed his protection. He imagined Ashayna’s Larnkin equal to any task. When he had his emotions back under control, he asked, “And what have you learned?”

  “That I never want to face your Great Mother or All Father. Nor do I wish to meet their children, the Servants of Creation.” Ashayna looked back to Priestess Halnora. “But there seems to have been some mix-up. Why did the Lady of Fire not create the phoenix? For that matter, why did the Healer not create the lupwyn race, for they heal quickly?”

  Halnora rewarded Ashayna with a genuine smile. “Individually, none of us are a threat to the Servants of Creation. However, if we were to rise against them as a group, it could affect the balance of creation. Since no parent should ever have to kill their own young, the Servants arranged it so the one who commands a particular element was not the parent of the race forged in that element. So Anashirath, the Lord of healing, is father to the dragons—which are a blending of reptile and Time—but Dakdamon, Lord of the Mists of Time, would deal with any dragon uprisings.”

  “There has been an uprising or discord of some kind, hasn’t there?” Ashayna shot her question out while the Priestess drew a breath. Sorntar cringed at her tone. By a stronger waft of magic scenting the air, her Larnkin was reacting badly to the priestess’s weaving. Ashayna needed close watching until she was more at ease.

  Halnora nodded her head. “There has been much discord throughout our long history. We’ll leave your history lessons for another day. Go now and find your ease.”

  The moment of te
nsion vanished as quickly as it had come. Later Sorntar would ask Ashayna if there was more to it than just her Larnkin’s restless stirring. He’d received enough of Halnora’s soul-probing inquiries to doubt the innocence of the priestess’s simple words.

  Ashayna smoothed her skirt in an offhand way before speaking again. “I’ve seen enough of your magic that I hope to never meet your ‘parents’.”

  Halnora changed the subject. “Did you find the story familiar in any way?”

  Ashayna raised one eyebrow. “Should it be? I haven’t been here long enough to hear any of your stories.”

  The searing aroma of rising power invaded Sorntar’s nostrils for a third time. Tension thickened faster than he could hope to soothe. Priestess Halnora must have tried to read Ashayna’s power, and his little human bondmate, being equal parts stubborn and fearful, would consider it an invasion. Which it was, but no fit of temper would take back what the priestess learned.

  He situated himself between them. With Ashayna at his back, Sorntar faced Halnora. “Priestess, if you will excuse us. I believe Ashayna has learned enough of our history for one night. Too much and it will be wasted. Perhaps tomorrow will be soon enough for her next lesson.” He phrased it calmly and politely. A feat of no little skill, with him squeezed between two volatile women. Halnora studied him coolly before nodding her head and walking away.

  Ashayna radiated rage and power all along his back, her magic’s cloying scent enough to steal his breath. A Larnkin-induced argument brewed in the air between them. He turned to face her, only to find she’d darted around his other side, heading for Halnora. If the angry set of Ashayna’s shoulders and the soft glow of power outlining her hands was any indication, the outcome wouldn’t be good. Sorntar sprinted after her. Catching up, he wrapped his arms and then wings around her before slapping a palm over her mouth. Ashayna couldn’t scream. Instead, she clawed at his forearms and tried to land a few kicks, which tangled in her long skirt.