A Shift in Power (Shadow Claw Book 5)

by Sarah J. Stone

  He knew Nathaniel was aware of the fine line he walked and took it as challenge. No matter how much Desmond tried and scolded, Nathaniel had always had eyes for women. He wasn't discreet either, and more than once, he had been called in front of the Jurors for disobedience.

  Desmond's only solace was that, as Nathaniel got older, he seemed to be settling down and focusing his attention on the one woman he came back to again, and again. A quest on Jeffro – a border planet – had introduced the fifteen-year-old Nathaniel to the seventeen-year-old orphaned ruler, Queen Eliza. She was just as head strong, stubborn, and in control of her emotions as he was. Desmond pretended to not hear the late-night hologram fights they had over the years, and pretended not to hear Nathaniel's thoughts when they were doing well. As long as he was focused on his duties, Desmond could turn a blind eye. And, he noticed, no matter how hard they fought, they always returned to each other. They fought in a way that acknowledged that ending their relationship was never an option.

  It was admirable, in a way, except neither of them were supposed to be even thinking of romantic love.

  This life was not an easy one, but it was worth it for the greater good. Despite being two of the most powerful warrior witches in the galaxy, they were still only human.

  “Are you going to the showcase today?” Nathaniel asked. “I saw them setting up this morning.”

  “I might,” Desmond answered, watching Nathaniel eat his way through half a loaf of bread. The showcases were bi-annual and meant to show off the skills of young witches who were hoping to find Maestros. They came from the various academies to go the headquarters, and it was usually impressive. Desmond wasn't quite sure he was interested in taking another one, though. If he was truthful, Nathaniel had been difficult at best. Desmond would technically age out before another Tiro came of age. He and Mariah had loose plans to not take another one, retiring together. Not that he could tell anyone of that, he knew.

  Right now, his biggest concern was getting Nathaniel out of his kitchen. “Is there something wrong with the cafeteria? Or your own kitchen, perhaps? Your room is down the hall, Nathaniel. Surely your own kitchen is closer.”

  “I have to teach in ten minutes,” Nathaniel protested. “There's no time to wait in the cafeteria or make my own food. You always have something ready.”

  “In case I need to grab something swiftly,” Desmond replied. “I don't usually keep you in mind.”

  “I love how prepared you are, Maestro,” Nathaniel grinned. “I didn't have time last night.”

  “Why? You finished class at seven p.m.” Desmond raised an eyebrow. “What did you do with your evening?”

  “Eliza called,” Nathaniel admitted. “It was a long call.”

  “I'm sure it was,” Desmond said. “Go to class. If the professor is late, it says something.”

  “See you.” Nathaniel finally finished chewing and took off, leaving Desmond to shake his head. Nathaniel's appetite had not changed since he was fifteen, nor had his energy or his attitude. It was amazing how different they were. Nathaniel's dream was to be on the Jurors, where Desmond couldn't think of a more boring way to live life. Although Nathaniel was successful and well respected, Desmond sometimes wondered where he went wrong as a Maestro.

  He tied up the bread bag, putting the dishes in the sink before going to get dressed. He always got Mariah from her room if they were having a meal together, as the hallways were crowded. Mariah had been blinded nearly ten years ago, and although she was very proficient with her magic, using it to see rather than her eyes, he still worried about her. Her last Tiro, Nathaniel's childhood best friend, had graduated early, and Mariah had been working within the safety of the academy ever since. Desmond worried every day she took a minor quest, even though he knew she was just as strong as the first day.

  His com-link buzzed as he was finishing getting dressed, and he saw it was Thomas, one of the permanent members.

  “I'm not expected for another two hours,” he answered, finishing the buttons on his old shirt.

  “I know,” Thomas replied. “I'm not calling because I don't know how to tell time.”

  “Good to know,” Desmond answered. “What can I do for you?”

  “There was a ship coming from a border planet that had some terrible turbulence. It was full of showcases attendees, and some were injured. Can you stop by the med bay to sign off on their participation? The professor is insistent that they participate, and I'm not sure he's taking their physical state into account.”

  “These off-world professors,” Desmond said, shaking his head. “They count their success on the amount of Tiros that get trained, regardless of consequence.”

  “I'm aware,” Thomas said. “Will you do it?”

  “In an hour,” Desmond replied. “I have plans currently.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I have plans,” Desmond repeated. “But I will be there.”

  Thomas sighed. “Fine,” he answered, not willing to fight. “I'll see you later.”

  “You will,” Desmond said, and hung up. He knew that walking the grey areas of magic often landed him with tasks like this, but it was a small price to pay to mostly do as he pleased.

  Mariah was ready when he came to the door, looking beautiful despite a plain outfit. Her hair was pulled back, and he was used to the scarring around her eyes that had caused the blindness. Once bright red, the scars were now pure white, crisscrossing her eyes and causing his heart to ache whenever he saw her. She was still beautiful, but he hated that he had not been there to help her.

  “Good morning,” Mariah said, knowing exactly where to look. “You're troubled today.”

  He smiled, always impressed by how sensitive her magic was.

  “It could have been Thomas calling to ask me something ridiculous,” he replied. “Or it could be that Nathaniel showed up and ate half of my fridge before dawn.”

  “So, a normal day, then?” She smiled at him, closing the door behind them. He took her arm, the shivers going down her spine. The only good thing about her blindness was that they could now touch in public under the guise that he was guiding her.

  “A normal day, lately,” he said, shaking his head. “Nathaniel has such pent-up energy since we've returned. When we were working, he could exhaust himself by the end of the day. We worked from dawn to dusk, and I usually didn't hear a peep from him after ten p.m. But here, just teaching during the day and having nothing to do in the evenings doesn't suit him. And yet he does nothing about it.”

  “Desmond,” Mariah said softly with the patience of a mother. Their Tiros were the closest thing to children they would have in a life they could only dream of having. “He's not ready to leave you.”

  “He's taken the tests,” Desmond replied, “and he was physically ready to take them years ago. I know his self-sufficiency is still an area he struggles with, but he will not last long here before he gets into trouble. There's already a pretty blond Maestro that I see him eyeing.”

  “Are we ones to talk?” Mariah asked, and he sighed.

  “He's not discreet, Mariah.”

  “At that age,” she said softly, “I'm not sure we had learned how to be, either.”

  Chapter 2

  “Mariah.” Her former Tiro and Nathaniel's childhood best friend, Sybil, touched her arm gently as they were finishing their breakfast in the cafeteria. Humanoid with green skin and a need for a watery environment more often than not, it had been Sybil that they thought would be more difficult to train than Nathaniel. But Sybil had proved a quick study and quick to adapt, and had taken the tests at nineteen, several years before Nathaniel. Today, she had her own Tiro and was rising fast. “How are you?

  “I am well,” Mariah said, still feeling a bond with her former Tiro. “I thought you were back last night. Was it successful?”

  “Simple search and rescue,” Sybil replied. “Easy to locate the target with just a small bit of magic. Anyone could have
done it.”

  “You are modest,” Mariah praised her. “And your Tiro?”

  “Already itching to go out again,” Sybil replied. “How are you, Maestro Desmond?”

  “I am well, Sybil,” he replied. “It's been a quiet week, so a chance to reflect.”

  “Are you two going to the showcase?” Sybil's eyes lit up. “We're going just to watch.”

  Sybil had grown up in the center of the relationship between the two of them, and while she didn't agree with the grey line they walked, she was well aware of it. She knew it would take wild horses to separate them when they had every opportunity to be together.

  “We might,” Desmond replied. “I have encouraged Nathaniel to attend, though.”

  “Excellent! I haven't seen him in weeks,” Sybil replied. “I'll leave you to it. It was nice to see you.”

  “And you,” Mariah replied as she left. She turned to Desmond with a smile. Desmond sighed.

  “Oh, is that what it's like when your Tiro graduates and becomes a proper person away from you?”

  “Hush,” Mariah said. “Nathaniel will be fine. Didn't you have an errand to run?”

  “The med bay,” Desmond remembered. “Do you want to come?”

  “I have a few tasks myself,” she replied. “Go ahead, and I'll find you at the showcase.”

  “Will you?” Desmond asked. “They can be quite crowded.”

  “I'll be fine,” Mariah reminded him. “Go on.”

  He touched her hand lightly and then rose. She was so independent, so strong, and he had to remind himself often that she would be fine. But it didn't mean he resisted the urge to try and take care of her when he could.

  The med bay was in a separate building, connected by tunnels. They confused him once upon a time, with no signs anywhere. Now, he knew them like the back of his hand, hardly paying attention to the twist and turns as he walked down the hallways.

  It was unusually busy today, likely due to the showcase. It was more than participants coming in today, with observers and Maestros looking for new Tiros attending, as well. The landing bays would be constantly occupied, and he was glad he didn't have any travel during this time.

  When he rounded the corner and entered the med bay, it was chaos. They were used to receiving wounded warriors just off quest or dealing with minor injuries. But Desmond quickly identified eight young Tiros and a frantic professor, who was arguing with a medic, being held there.

  Desmond recognized Tara, the head medic, trying to calm the situation. He stepped in, cleared his throat, and Tara looked at him gratefully.

  “Did the Jurors send you?” she asked, and he nodded. “Took them long enough. This is Desmond. He will determine whether your Tiros can enter the showcase.”

  “We came all the way from Maui,” the professor snapped, heavily accented. “We better–”

  “Sir,” Desmond said calmly, as he often was, “I will give my judgment based on Tara's advice, and the requirements of the Jurors to enter a showcase. Shall we begin?”

  “Here,” Tara indicated he should follow.

  They were so young, Desmond observed. It felt like the participants got younger and younger every year, smaller, and more frightened. He remembered his first showcase as a Tiro, and then as a Maestro. These Tiros seemed to be positively tiny compared to him now.

  “This is Judd,” she said. “He's eight years old, and he broke his left arm in the turbulence However, his magic is right handed, so he's not technically handicapped by it.”

  “Hello, Judd,” Desmond said, and Judd nodded, tears in his eyes. He took a look at the report Tara had written up and tried to think of how the Jurors had set up the showcase this year. “Technically, that should be fine, if he's up to it.”

  “That's fine,” Tara said, placing a checkmark on his file as Judd broke into a smile. “Next is Ian. This is a concussion without a doubt. It would be against my medical advice.”

  “Absolutely,” Desmond said, despite the tears of the groggy six-year-old. The professor growled, and he turned to him. “He will have many more showcases ahead of him. To present now will harm his house. My former Tiro suffered a concussion early in his career, and it took us out of quests for nearly a month. You wouldn't want that, would you?”

  “I know that you headquarter staff like to think you know better,” the man said, and Desmond didn't address it. He wasn't one for arguing or confrontation. Either things were done, or they weren't.

  Slowly, they moved through the Tiros, most of whom were all right to continue, at least with modifications. When he got to the last one, he reached for the report, but Tara pulled back.

  “This one is…” she chose her words carefully. “Was just here to observe anyway.”

  Desmond turned to the young girl sitting on the bed and felt something hit him like a tidal wave. She cocked her head, meeting his eyes, and he felt something stirring that he had not felt since he first laid eyes on Nathaniel and the ones before him.

  “What do you mean?” he asked Tara for clarification

  She regarded her report. “Sienna is not meant to be trained.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not meant to be trained?’”

  “She has the acridid gene,” Tara replied. “You've heard of it?”

  “I thought it was a myth,” Desmond replied, aware of the medical condition that tended to attack all bodily systems like a swarm of acridids. It was autoimmune, and he thought it was fatal very early on. Medical science had come far, and it appeared that it could be managed, for she was bright eyed as she watched him. She was razor thin and fragile, but he felt magic within her that shocked him. This girl was powerful, brimming with magic.

  “It's not, and we do everything we can to manage it. Sienna comes here a few times a year for advanced treatment. I wasn't sure if she was going to participate.”

  “Do you want to participate?” Desmond turned to Sienna. She opened her mouth, and he could see the thoughts behind her eyes. “She doesn't speak Basic,” he realized, turning to the professor. The man raised an eyebrow.

  “She really was just here to observe,” he answered. “There's no point in training Sienna. She's an interesting case, but she won't make it to the tests.”

  “Every Tiro brought to school has a chance,” Desmond said, turning back to Sienna. He focused directly into her eyes, speaking slowly. “Do you want to participate in the showcase?”

  She nodded, picking up the words carefully.

  “I…can…fight?” she asked, her words stilted. He held her focus, waiting patiently for her to get the right words out. It wasn't uncommon that those who trained offsite were weak in Basic. She should be stronger in it by now, but he suspected she might have been identified late or not given proper training. He wasn't about to stand for that, especially when he felt such power in her.

  “If you are well,” he turned to Tara, who sighed.

  “I guess,” she said. “She wasn't injured in the turbulence. She's just…her.”

  “Then she will compete,” Desmond said, smiling at Sienna. “Yes.”

  “Me?” her eyes lit up. “Thank you!

  He chuckled at that.

  “Good luck to you,” he replied, and then turned to Tara.

  “Is that all?”

  “For now,” Tara shrugged. “I think you are making a mistake.”

  “Luckily, Tara, you do not sit on the Jurors, nor do you have to answer to them for my mistakes,” he answered.

  “You are getting surly in your old age, Desmond,” she answered. “Go.”

  “I'll see you all at the showcase, then,” he answered, rolling his eyes as he headed out. He, perhaps, would have given an even more brusque answer had he not been distracted by Sienna's magic.

  ‘Did the acridid gene produce more powerful magic?’ he wondered. ‘And if they were more powerful at birth, did the flame of hope get snuffed out early?’

  He didn't know enough about it to
even speculate, but he did know that everyone deserved a chance, no matter their situation. His last three Tiros had been long shots – black sheep – and most of them had turned out all right.

  He tried not to think about the ones that didn't.

  Desmond paused outside Nathaniel's class for the last few moments, listening to his former Tiro teach. The Tiros were engaged as they always were. Nathaniel was closer to their own age than most Maestros, and he was still full of energy.

  Sometimes, Desmond thought, it was hard to belief that this was the sullen thirteen-year-old boy that he had seen dragging himself through the showcases, thinking he had no hope.

  It was also hard to believe that this was the same fifteen-year-old boy who had looked up at Queen Eliza and known instantly that his life was going to change. Nathaniel and Eliza as teenagers were even more headstrong than they were now. Now, they were quiet, able to hide their feelings, careful, and accepting of their fates. He was a witch, and she needed a noble marriage. It was safe, Desmond thought.

  Except for the amount of time he caught Nathaniel thinking about her in the moments that were quiet. He knew that his former Tiro was in too deep to stop now, but he hoped, as the months went on, that Nathaniel would continue to learn discretion.

  It would be the hardest choice to leave the witches' order because one was trying to be good to their heart as well as the rest of the galaxy.

  “Hi,” Nathaniel interrupted his thoughts. “I thought we were meeting at the showcase?”

  “I was in the area,” Desmond said with a shrug. “Mariah and I saw Sybil this morning.”

  “Oh, she's back?” he grinned. “Good. I want to talk to her. “

  “Don't get into mischief,” Desmond warned him. “The two of you together are worse than a tornado.”

  “But we're Maestros now,” Nathaniel pointed out. “Which means we call the shots.”

  “No,” Desmond said, knowing it was a losing battle. “Are you done here?”