Shift of Shadow and Soul (SoulShifter Book 1)

by Hilary Thompson

  “You caught me,” she said, her voice low with anger.

  Sy could feel eyes on his back, and he knew the General was likely watching this unfold. There was an outcropping of rocks nearby, and he pulled the girl behind them, sheltering them both from the watchers on the beach.

  “Look, I don’t mean any harm. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Please excuse my mistake.”

  “Oh, you’ve made a mistake all right,” the girl hissed, her eyes narrow now with fury. “But you can still make everything right. Claim me with a kiss and all will be forgiven,” she said, pressing close to him in yet another twist of emotions.

  Something rolled in Sy’s belly, but he wasn’t quite certain what to name it. He tucked a finger beneath her chin and studied her face. “Go home. There is no shame. You were caught, and I let you go, that’s all.”

  “The only shame is on you, First Son,” she spat, stepping backward. “Your brother will not like what you’ve done here.”

  “Reshra?” he said, a darkness spreading in his chest. Had Resh somehow set this up to distract him from catching Corentine? Sy inhaled deeply to calm himself. “Go home,” he repeated, turning to go.

  “If you have no intention of continuing the Weshen blood, then perhaps you don’t deserve to be First Son after all,” she called after him.

  Rage simmered hot beneath his skin, but Sy forced himself to turn away. He sprinted up the rocky path, hoping Corentine was still waiting for him.

  Coren paced in the shade of the single tree on this plain. Where was Syashin? Surely he should have found her by now, or he was not the hunter everyone seemed to think. Probably she should have let him catch her on the beach, like the other girls, but her pride had bucked at such a show of weakness.

  Just as she was about to give up on his coming, faint footsteps sounded on the rock path just beyond. She turned, surprised at the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Biting it back, she ducked deeper into the shadows, her heart beating hard with adrenaline at what she had agreed to.

  “I know you’re here,” a voice called, even before the figure came from behind the rocks.

  Coren frowned and peeked around the trunk. The voice was Syashin’s, but not.

  And then he was upon her, darting behind the tree and pinning her against its rough bark. Panic seized her heart as she saw not Syashin before her, but his brother. The destructive one.

  “You’re not so hard to catch,” he grinned, his near-black eyes flashing. Reshra clutched her forearms, pressing them crossways to her chest. His smile sliced through her thin armor and spilled everything she had ever held dear onto the grass before them.

  How could she have been so stupid? Her lips trembled, trying to form words, but there was no time for anything as he bent his mouth to hers, as gentle on her lips as his fingers were fierce on her skin.

  “I claim you with a kiss,” he whispered against her lips. His knees pressed hard against her thighs, keeping her from kicking out.

  Coren moaned and struggled against him, frantic to escape. But there had been no goshen berry ready in her cheek today, and the cliff’s edge was too far away for jumping. She couldn’t even free an arm to grasp her whip.

  She had been caught.

  In her last summer, despite all her skill, she had been caught.

  Reshra laughed softly at her struggles. He was simply stronger than her. He nuzzled his face into her neck, his breath hot on her skin. “Relax, simple girl. Today I claim you for Syashin. Be sure to keep your word and offer him an heir, or I will catch you again and again and again until you give me one.”

  To her horror, Coren heard a whimper escape from her lips. She had known fear, but it was nothing like the paralysis found in this loss of power and pride. His teeth scraped lightly along her jaw as he returned for a second kiss, but Coren suddenly found her eyes staring levelly at his belt. Her arms slipped easily through his fingers and he stumbled back.

  “What is this?” he hissed, staring down at her shrunken form in shock and agitation. Coren frantically looked at her hands - child’s hands. Child’s feet, now tiny in her sandals. Child’s body, swimming in the blue dress she was wearing.

  Vomit crept up her throat as she realized she had shifted into her younger self.

  Would Reshra understand what she’d done?

  Glancing up, she saw him start to lunge down for her, but she ducked and ran, kicking off her sandals, tripping over her dress, straight into the grass that was now tall enough to hide her eight-year-old form. Heaving, she wound a random spiral through the grass, desperate to lose him.

  The plain grew silent as she stopped running and crouched in the dirt, lungs straining. She listened intently, ear close to the ground, but heard nothing. Either he had left or was waiting for the chance to ambush. If Syashin was Weshen’s best Paladin, Reshra must be second best.

  Panic beat against her lungs as she realized Reshra’s discovery had destroyed her bargain with Syashin. He could have her banished this very day.

  If Reshra understood she’d used magic, he would certainly assume it was dark, just like people had assumed with Jyesh. Syashin’s promise of secrecy and Maren’s cloaking spell were her only hopes for surviving the summer, but she worried neither would be enough if she failed to produce an heir for the First Son.

  Coren grasped that if he came to claim her, the magic would surface again like a shield, and she would end up sailing the MagiSea alone. This truth knocked the wind out of her and froze her fingertips to the dirt.

  “Corentine?” a voice called, and she had to force herself not to bolt from the cliff’s edge like a rockrabbit.

  Adrenaline shot through her veins, but she focused on the voice as it called again. Her pulse steadied as she realized it was Syashin. Constricting her muscles around her lungs until her breathing slowed, she stood an inch at a time. Her head rose above the grass again, and she saw her body had stretched back to its normal length. Staying low, she scanned the plain but saw no-one other than Syashin waiting for her by the tree. She swiped at her cheeks, swiftly erasing a few hot tears.

  “Corentine!” he called again, waving as he saw her. Keeping her eyes moving, she walked carefully toward him, composing herself more with each step. Somehow, she didn’t believe Reshra had completely gone. Syashin smiled, holding her sandals out to her.

  Should she tell him what Reshra had done? What she had accidentally revealed?

  But if he knew Reshra had seen her magic, he may not be willing to lie to his brother. He might take back his promise of protection. Her instincts whispered she should wait.

  “Sorry I was delayed,” Syashin began, but she just shook her head.

  “I must learn control,” she blurted, working to keep her voice steady. “I cannot be found out. My family depends on my hunting and care.”

  “The twins - you’re their only caretaker?” he asked, watching her carefully. She nodded, feeling her face darken with desperation. How long until Reshra figured out what he had seen?

  She must make it home today, and every day after.

  “Control is about emotion,” Syashin said, lowering himself to the ground and settling his back against the chokecherry tree. “If your emotions have control, you won’t.” He patted the grass next to him, and she sat, keeping more than an arm’s length from him. He frowned a bit, but Coren just glared.

  “You know that you’ll need to enter the men’s village with me tonight, right? My father will want to see you.” His voice was full of uncertainty. Coren closed her eyes and lifted her chin to the sky, her skin sensitive to both the dappled shade and the patches of sunlight filtering down to them.

  “I will stay in your tent tonight,” she whispered. “On the floor.” Her eyes opened to meet his and seared them in place just as the acidic juice of the goshen berry had burned his lips.

  “So…emotion,” he said after a beat of silence, glancing down at his fingers in the grass. “When you’re afraid, your magic might manifest as a defensi
ve reflex.”

  Coren felt her stomach flip. This she had already learned. “And why have my powers only begun now? I’ve never done anything like this before this summer.”

  She bit down on a rant about how Sorenta should have told her before, how Maren should have helped her earlier.

  Syashin shrugged. “I’ve prayed to the Mirror Magi for years, questioning my magic. And in answer, I found you. I don’t know why the magic is returning in us alone, but surely the gods have a plan.”

  Perhaps, but why did the gods’ plan need to involve her family so heavily? “How did you learn to control it?”

  He gazed into the leaves above them, as though trying to decide his answer.

  “Why do you hesitate to tell me anything? Surely you know that nothing I repeat would be trusted. My word means nothing to Matron Behrenna or the General.” She could hear the frustration in her voice, and she hated how helpless she felt.

  Maybe she should learn to use this power, instead of relying on others to help her hide it.

  He studied her for a minute more. “When I travel for hunting, sometimes I…hear rumors. Sometimes I pursue them, and sometimes they are true.” He glanced behind himself, then back to her. “I’ve found a teacher.”

  “A teacher,” she repeated.

  “Not every Weshen entered the Isle or the City during the Sacrifice, right? Well, Damren stayed behind and hid herself and her magic.”

  “In EvenFall?” Coren raised an eyebrow. He’d just told her how dangerous it was to have shifter magic in Riata.

  “Hidden in the mountains, actually. I see her when I can, on my hunts and when I go to EvenFall to sell talismans.”

  “Talismans,” she repeated, wishing he would get to the point.

  Syashin gestured to the whip peeking through the slit in her dress. She tugged the fabric over it and he grinned. “Talismans are weapons or protective jewelry made from the MagiCreatures.”

  “I know what a talisman is,” she said, aggravated that he thought her so ignorant. And what did talismans have to do with teaching her control? She pressed her lips together, praying for patience. “This is just a whip. Talismans carry magic.”

  “They did, once. But when the Weshen sacrificed their magic, the talismans lost their purpose as well. Mostly.” He gestured toward the hidden whip again. “Does it still warm to your touch?”

  Coren glared, thinking of how many times Sorenta had reassured her it was only a weapon. Nothing more.

  “It glows silver with the blood of a kill,” she hissed without thinking.

  He leaned forward to grasp her arm, his eyes inches from her face. “It’s a true talisman, then! They’re extremely rare, and even the few we find no longer work. How did you get it?”

  She blinked at his proximity, shrinking into the tree trunk and yanking her arm away. “It was my mother’s,” she whispered, lowering her eyes from his.

  “Did she have magic?” he asked. “Did she use Sulit magic? What you’re describing sounds like dark magic layered on a true talisman. Activating it, maybe.”

  But Coren didn’t answer his burst of questions. She wasn’t about to admit a single other fact that could be used against her. “The only thing my mother ever told me of magic was that it ruined lives,” she answered instead. A truth of its own.

  “I should go,” she said, growing fidgety. She hadn’t learned anything, and he was taking too long in his explanations. She must return home soon, or she’d need to explain her absence to the twins. Keeping this secret from Kosh and Penna - Kosh especially - was going to be tricky.

  “I have so much to teach you, if our bargain is to be useful,” he said, staring down at his fingers, now empty in his lap.

  She paused. Unfortunately, she did need him to help her hide her magic for a few more days.

  “Perhaps we can meet in the cove again? I need to see to the twins’ dinner. Then I can put them to bed and meet you before…” she trailed away. She knew she’d have to enter the men’s camp with him, meet his father to keep up the pretense.

  For years she’d avoided being caught with skill and determination. She should hate Sy for his part in her broken promise to Sorenta, but something in his open, honest eyes prevented that seed from taking root. None of this was his fault, and he had promised to help her.

  Though she’d been raised to trust no-one, Coren realized she believed Sy would be honorable with her.

  She glanced to him, finding him staring at his hands, where blades of grass were slowly growing from the specks of green he held. They formed into a loose flower shape, which he handed to her. She took it, wondering at its ability to be both grass and flower.

  Familiar and yet wholly unexpected.

  He stood and offered her his hand. Although her mind was still automatically suspicious of the gesture, this time she allowed it.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For being different. I owe you more than I can give.” She was suddenly intensely grateful that although it was the Second Son who had truly caught her, it was the First Son who stood before her now, gentle and noble and everything his brother did not appear to be.

  He tugged her fingers to his lips and brushed them with a kiss.

  “You’re worth more than what you can give me,” he answered.

  She closed her eyes as he let go of her fingers, denying herself any reaction to the tender gesture, and when she opened them again, he had gone.

  The sun already rode high in the sky as she ran the beach back to the women’s village.

  Chapter 11

  Corentine did not meet Sy in the cove after the sun had set.

  He waited and waited, pacing the narrow space and glancing at the statues of the Mirror Magi with each lap. When he saw them from the corner of his eye, they seemed to shimmer and nod at him, but each time he passed, they were nothing but carved white stone.

  As darkness claimed the cove, Sy gave up and headed back to the men’s camp, shoulders slumped in defeat. He chafed against the men’s laughter around the newly-built bonfire, each clink of mug upon mug like a blow to his chest.

  Corentine had changed her mind, and he would have to accept his fate and his father. He shouldn’t expect her to solve his problems.

  As he neared his tent though, she stepped from the shadows and slipped close to his side without a word. Her fingers closed around his forearm, tugging him toward the edge of the celebration, where Ashemon and Tag sat drinking. Though he felt the tremble of her body as she shrunk against him, her steps did not falter.

  Despite the guilt that swam in his gut, he allowed himself a single grin in the darkness.

  “Good night, Father,” Sy said, hoping to avoid conversation. Tag smiled proudly up at him, his eyes crinkled as he took in Corentine’s silent form and bowed head. Sy had hidden his grin from the men and the firelight, and as Ashemon nodded to him, he felt sick at gaining this approval. He swiveled and led Corentine into the shadows beyond the firelight, hurrying them to his tent.

  When he held aside the door flap, she darted inside, scanning the space like an animal searching for escape.

  “I’ll go get us a drink,” he offered, and she nodded too quickly, pacing the length of the tent in only a few strides. “I’ll be right back. Just have a seat,” he added, a little worried her nerves would send her skittering out to the ocean as soon as he’d left. But she had come, and he should trust her to stay, just as she was trusting him to keep her secrets.

  Getting the drinks took longer than he wanted, as several men stopped him to discuss some small matter. None of them said a word about Corentine, but Sy guessed their change must be due to her presence. He hated that Resh had been right about how to earn and keep the men’s respect.

  Sy realized as he said good night to yet another man that he hadn’t seen Resh all evening, and he hurried his steps back to the tent, not liking the possibility of Resh being there alone with Corentine.

  But he found her undisturbed, curled on a corner of the bed, head pro
pped on several pillows and eyes closed. Her dress had slipped from her shoulder, and her skin looked warm and soft in the flickering candlelight.

  Sy’s chest grew tight with relief and gratitude and, he hated to admit, a nervous anticipation of things that would never happen tonight. Watching her, he felt something like the warm spread of magic, growing from his center and tingling through each of his fingers. It was not the same as when he called the salt from the sea, however, or the green from the grass.

  Instinctively, he knew it was because he had grown to care for her in some small way - he was invested in what happened to her, even beyond his part in her life.

  Just then, Corentine moved and opened her eyes, and he saw her whip coiled around her leg, her fingertips hovering near the handle. His hope for friendship stalled as he realized that as peaceful as she looked, there was a tautness to her muscles, like an animal playing dead until a predator left.

  “Stop staring,” she said, her voice light and gentle. “Reshra has already been here once to ask where you are, and I don’t like being watched by two brothers in one night.”

  Although it sounded like a joke, he turned on his heel and pushed through the thick curtains to Resh’s room.

  “What have you said to her?” he growled at Resh, who was lounging in bed with another mug of liquor and an untouched plate of food.

  But Resh only laughed, a soft chuckle that strummed Sy’s agitation. “I bow to your skills, First Son. She appears to be here of her own free will.”

  “You will do nothing to that girl!” Sy continued, advancing on Resh. He burned to question his brother about the other girl from this morning’s hunts, but Corentine might flee if he left her alone longer.

  Resh drew his body gracefully from the mussed blankets, standing firm and toe-to-toe with Sy. “You’re right, brother. I will do nothing to that girl.” He paused to take a drink, showing his teeth in a grin as he lowered the mug. “As long as you do something.”

  He held Sy’s glare for a long moment, then slipped out of the tent without a glance backward.