by Kirra Pierce
“Here to check on the newest member of Quwe, Miranda?” Other happy morning greetings followed her through the few streets. Of course, everyone would already know about Izzie giving birth last night. Poor Jovan was probably shooing people away so his wife could get some rest.
She was stopped by young Molly, who was beating her mother’s rugs outside their cottage. Only fifteen with glossy, black curls and sparkling eyes, she was the best source of town gossip.
“It’s sooo unfair! I’m stuck here helping mother, while Chrissa gets to go look for winterberries with Roland. My Eli is going too. But, me? No! I have to help clean. Could you talk with her, Miranda? Tell her it would be healthy for me to get out and hike in the woods? Miranda, where are you going?”
Alarmed at Molly’s news, Miranda dashed on to see Paulus. While Molly had the gossip, the widower acted like a town message board. He would not only know where the little group had gone to look for berries, but also if anyone else was out.
“Why are you so interested in berry picking?” Paulus’s already crinkled face grew additional lines as he squinted and leaned forward from the porch chair where he sat like a judge watching all the comings and goings.
“Um, there are some medicinal teas that use the berries. I thought it might be good to pick some and get to know some of the town’s young people a little better while I’m at it.”
Paulus looked like he bought her explanation, but when she said no more he went on. “They went to the berry grove on the hill, south of the cold-water pond. It was just the three of them, although Chrissa’s mother plans on surprising them with some sweet cakes later. If they’re doing other than what they claimed, there will be three sorry youthlings tonight and possibly nuptial announcements tomorrow!” He laughed.
Miranda briefly wondered how much the little group thought they were getting away with and how much they were being set up. But the idea of ravers in the area quickly drove away any humorous thoughts.
“Thank you, good Paulus. I better go check on the village’s newest member before I consider berry picking myself.”
She forced her feet to continue on in the village. She needed to make sure there were no other problems before she met back with Raphael. Izzie, Jovan, and Roslyn were fine, and a quick walk through the streets showed no signs of break-in at any other house. At the Quwe trade building where they packaged health waters in lovely glass vials for the wealthy, and less expensive clay bottles for the common, no workers were missing. The head councilman, who was also the business manager, laughed and told her, “We all drink our water so there is little illness here!”
She walked back toward the trees, exiting the village, hesitant to go too far. Raphael stepped out from behind a tree and beckoned her. Seeing him, she broke into a run.
She blurted out her report. “There’s a trio of youthlings berry picking by the cold water pond. I haven’t heard of anyone else being out or any trouble in the village. What’s your news?”
“There were signs of them scouting the area, but none are here now. Quickly tell me how to get to this pond, and you go back to the village.”
“No! If there’s injury, I’ll be needed, and minutes could mean life or death. Carry my basket and I’ll run with you. The pond is due east of here. The berries grow on the hill rising south of the pond.”
Raphael met her eyes with a hard look. “I can get there much faster alone.”
She nodded, but insisted, “I know the way that may save time, and if I’m needed, it will be faster for me to go with you. Either way is a risk. I’m faster than you think. I can run for miles. Let me come with you.”
Taking her basket and stepping aside, Raphael said only, “Lead, then.”
She took off at a sprint, but slowed to a steady run as she darted around trees and over rocks. She hadn’t lied. Although the academy encouraged exercise, Miranda had been considered strange for her love of running. She often slipped off to the countryside around the capital to dash freely down the country paths. As swift as she was, she heard Raphael barely a step behind her carrying the heavy basket. The pond was in view.
“Almost there!” She threw the words over her shoulder. Raphael grabbed that same shoulder and pulled her to an abrupt stop.
“Here.” He thrust the basket back into her hands. “I caught a faint whiff of raver, but I don’t smell any of them close. Climb that tree; it’ll at least slow them down if they come this way. Wait for me. Call me if you see anything. I’ll hear you and come.” His tone did not ask, it commanded. He stripped as he spoke and changed to wolf form before she could speak. The huge beast reminded her of what might lurk nearby, and Miranda made it halfway up the pine before he faded from view.
* * * * *
How long? How much longer will he be? The bark dug into her hands. She relaxed her grip and concentrated. Forest birds, some squirrels chittering, just the slight movement of the trees in the soft breeze, nothing out of the ordinary, and then a rustling and snapping as something approached. A knot of fear coalesced inside her chest. She turned toward the sound, eyes straining to find the source. A wolf bounded out of the brush and changed. It was Raphael!
“Come down quick! A raver was here. He caught scent of me and ran, but had already attacked the younglings. They need your help!” While he spoke, he pulled his clothes on again and then reached to help Miranda down the last bit of the tree.
This time he didn’t wait for her to run with him. He simply scooped her and her basket up and dashed into the woods. Even with the extra weight, his speed was breathtaking as he jumped over rocks and dodged branches.
* * * * *
“Chrissa, help me. Eli is still alive. Help me.”
Miranda and Raphael burst into the small clearing between the tall berry bushes. Roland went into a crouch, obviously ready to jump at any attacker and defend his friends, but he relaxed slightly when he saw Miranda.
She spoke as fast as she could to reassure the little group. “Raphael is a brethren. He is here to help us.” Immediately she saw Eli was in the worst shape of the three. He was flat on his back with a gash across his abdomen. His eyes were shut.
“Come help Eli! The thing ripped him bad. I…I can see inside him.” As Roland spoke, he turned to gesture toward the wound, revealing long, bloodstained rips in the shirt over his own back. Chrissa sat dazed, hugging her knees tightly, silent tears running down her face.
Raphael set Miranda on her feet and squatted down on his heels. The move made him appear smaller and less of a potential threat, yet it left him in a position to immediately tackle any incoming menace
Basket in hand, Miranda stepped to Eli’s side and knelt down. He had been lucky with the abdomen wound. It appeared the cut hadn’t ruptured any internal organs. But why was he unconscious? Then she saw the blood by his face and gently probed his head with her fingers. She felt the sharp edge of a rock behind him and then a sickening softness on his skull next to it.
“Roland, can you help me roll Eli to his side? He has an injury on the back of his head I want to see better. But we will need to be very gentle and not jostle him. I’m going to ask Raphael to help also.” Miranda spoke gently, trying to project confidence for the shaken younglings. Inside, she held to the icy calm she had learned through hours of work at the academy’s practice halls. There experienced teachers supervised the work students performed for everyone from the poor to the merchant class. Only the very wealthy disdained the academy’s healing halls. Now, however, she would perform on her own.
Roland put careful hands under his friend’s shoulders while Miranda cupped his head and neck and Raphael took his hips. As one, they turned the injured youth to his side, revealing a mess of blood and hair. Miranda cursed under her breath. She really needed clean water to wash his head and abdominal injuries.
“As best I can see now, the skull is broken, but not penetrated. We need to get Eli back to town to treat him and you, too, Roland. I’ll put a temporary bandage on him for now.”
Chrissa still sat hugging what Miranda now noticed was a ripped skirt around her knees. Looking at Roland and Raphael, she instructed, “Keep holding Eli. I’ll be right back.”
She scooted over to Chrissa and gently stroked her arm. “Chrissa. Chrissa, it’s Miranda, the healer. I’m here to help you. Are you hurt?” A shudder ran through Chrissa’s thin frame, and her eyes focused on Miranda.
“Miranda?”
“Yes, honey, it’s Miranda. I’m here to help you and Roland and Eli. Can you help me? Can you tell me what happened?” Miranda held her breath. Would Chrissa be able to come out of the shock and speak to her or would she retreat within herself again?
“Roland? Eli?” Chrissa’s face held sudden panic. She grabbed Miranda’s hand. “Where’s Roland? I saw the beast jump on him and knock him to the ground. He didn’t get up!”
Miranda leaned to one side. “He’s right here. See. Here he is.”
“I’m alright, Chrissa. I just got knocked out for a little when I hit the ground.” Roland moved aside a thick fall of bangs over his forehead to reveal a large goose egg of a bump. “But Eli is hurt bad. Did you see what attacked us? Are you hurt anywhere?” Roland sounded both concerned and impatient that Chrissa wasn’t doing anything. “Chrissa, you always want to help. This time we really need you. What's wrong?”
“Eli, hurt?” Chrissa’s voice broke. “The thing, it was a raver. After it jumped off you, it changed. It became both man and beast. Eli tried to fight it, but it slashed his stomach and picked him up and threw him down. I picked up a rock to hit him, but he just took it from me and smiled.”
She looked back at Miranda, apparently unable to tell the rest to Roland. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He took my hands and smiled with his horrible half-beast face, and then I took a breath to scream, but then I just stopped.
“He smelled so good. How could he smell so good? I just kept breathing, and he pulled me to the ground. Part of me wanted to run away, but that smell and my mind was not working. I just stayed there. He ripped my skirt, and then he…he…” She paused, tears pouring from her eyes. She squeezed Miranda’s hand and somehow gathered herself enough to continue. “He ripped my skirt then. He pushed me down and lay on me and…” She drew a shuddering breath. “He, he had just finished when he looked over at the bushes. He jumped up and was gone just before another beast ran through here chasing him, and then I don’t remember what happened until you talked to me.”
Roland moved away from Eli and sat softly next to Chrissa. Wordlessly, he offered his arms to her, agony written across his face. Miranda let out a sigh of thanks when Chrissa slid into her sweetheart’s arms to cling tightly and sob as he rocked her near. Miranda knew that Chrissa had experienced the drugging scent brethren and ravers could exude. On one hand, it had saved her from much worse physical injury. On the other, it caused her body to betray her. The effects on her mind and soul could be awful.
Miranda knew she would have to address that later. Right now she had to bandage Eli, make sure Roland wasn’t worse off than he initially appeared, and then get them back to the village.
Raphael was patiently holding Eli in place. His eyes told her he was ashamed a creature so similar to himself had committed these atrocities and seemed to ask if she hated him now. She shot him what she hoped was a quick look of reassurance while she wrapped Eli’s head in a swathe of linen dressings.
While she finished her emergency care, Raphael used more of her bandages to tie some young branches together to make a traveling bed for Eli. His voice rumbled quietly. “I want you three to carry Eli between you. The raver is probably far away, but I need to keep my hands free to defend us in case he returns.”
The group took a collective breath. While Roland and Chrissa took a moment to hold one another and whisper comforts, Raphael pulled Miranda aside.
“This changes everything. I have to assume this raver is connected to those I saw before. If they are starting to raid across the border, this village needs protection now. Even if they were not, I would have to stay to see if one or both of these young men will go through the change to brethren or raver. I also may be able to help Chrissa get through her experience.” Miranda opened her mouth to question how he could do this, but he gestured her to hold back her queries for now. “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking later. We better get back to the village as fast as we can for Eli’s sake. I don’t know if the raver will come back ‑‑ and if he does, if he will be alone.”
Chapter Eight
Blessed Fortuna smiles on the prepared and the daring.
-- The Book of Trader’s Proverbs given to all apprentice traders
At the duke’s keep
“Will you have me?” “I want to marry you.” Cyn’s words echoed in her head. He wants to marry me. “My beast will accept no mate but you.” No, is it that he wants to marry me, or is it that his beast leaves him no choice? Besides, what do I want?
Surrounded by male flesh, with Ty holding her from behind and Cyn clasping her hands to his chest in front, she couldn’t get a clear thought. She pulled away from the two men. “You two have had months to consider this, but it is new to me. I need to think on it.”
Cyn’s eyes narrowed, his face tightened in evidence of an internal struggle. “Very well. Go. Think, but also think on this.”
He jerked her to his body and fiercely pressed his lips against hers. Surprised, her lips parted in an “oh” he quickly took advantage of. Cyn did not merely kiss, he took possession. His tongue stroked hers harshly, and his hands held her tight to his body until she softened, molding to his hardness.
A second heated form pressed her from behind. Her head was pulled away from Cyn’s. Her eyes fluttered open long enough to see Ty’s burning gaze as he took her lips.
She drowned in sensation as his taste melded with Cyn’s, still fresh on her lips. She burned in the flames they so easily provoked in her until Ty pulled back and licked his lips, as though he too was savoring their combined flavors.
“If you marry Cyn, you will still also be my chosen in the eyes of the world and I his bond brother. No one will be able to come between any of us.”
With unsteady feet, Cassandra pulled away and left her men and the temptation of their bodies. If she stayed, she knew discussion, any rational thought, would soon be lost in the pleasures of their touch.
She wandered through the maze of halls, and finally, out into the mostly bare herb garden, waiting for its blanket of winter snow. She sat on a stone bench with her arms wrapped about herself, not really noticing the cold. A servant brought a fur-lined cape she acknowledged with a nod, but didn’t otherwise break the stream of her thoughts.
Duchess? If she married Cyn, she would lose a good deal of personal freedom. There would be additional demands on her time ‑‑ but couldn’t she delegate the majority of that? Adeena and Cyn’s housemistress handled most of the running of the keep already. Why should that change?
Acting as a trader: my first love. Would I lose that? If she became the duchess, how would she be treated? Hmm, as Duchess she could work at much higher levels than she had previously and with those who had their own power. They would not fear her title. They might even provide an amusing challenge since they would not be expecting much from a common-born such as her. Yes, it could be fun.
If I travel, Cyn will insist on some entourage, guards. Although, that was really no different than what he would insist on now. She snorted. That assumed she could get away without Ty or Cyn or both finding an excuse to come with her. Of course, she quietly acknowledged, it was unlikely she would even want to travel without them.
Where lies the real rub? She sighed, letting herself open up to the deepest truth of the matter. She loved them both. Even their secret campaign to prove how she could fit into the keep and as a duchess endeared them more to her. They cared for her. But did they love her?
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Wryly she smiled at the illogic of her feelings. She firmly tied herself to them by the addictive nature of the chosen bond, by her own love for them, by their need and affection for her, yet she didn’t want to marry without their love. Ridiculous, but there it was.
Of course, if any other woman thought to marry Cyn, she would meet an unfortunate illness. With Cassandra’s knowledge of herbs, that could be easily arranged.
But no, that’s unfair to Cyn. I will not cower like a young girl afraid of her feelings. She would simply demand to know theirs before revealing her own. But, regardless of what they said, she would accept the proposal. To do otherwise would mean a constant struggle against the plans of other would-be brides and their aristocratic families.
* * * * *
Melisande wasn’t one to wait, so although her letter to her half brother was on its way, she decided to go out for some afternoon air in the duke’s gardens. She dressed swiftly in a casual, yet elegant, wool dress. The dark blue overlapping panels of the skirt made for easy walking, and the pale blue accents around the fitted bosom and belled oversleeves almost matched her eyes. If she was careful, she could slip out alone and then go to the woods where a few men her brother had carefully selected waited. She had preparations to discuss.
The gate made little noise as she closed it behind herself. She walked through what she expected to be a deserted garden, when she saw a quiet figure wrapped in a cape. Damn the luck, she wanted to escape unnoticed. But wait, that profile, it’s Cassandra! The very object of my current plans, and for once, without another soul hovering in the background. Perhaps this is a sign of favor from the gods.
Quickly altering her plans, Melisande made her way over to Cassandra with a pleased smile that required no effort to put forth. “Cassandra, what a pleasant surprise! I was just thinking on how to approach you. I know I haven’t been too friendly and want to apologize and possibly start anew.”
Cassandra’s vaguely annoyed expression turned first astounded and then suspicious. Ignoring it, Melisande pressed on. “To show my sincerity, I’m asking you to go for a walk with me and let me tell about the king’s court and life in the capital. If I read the signs right, you will be traveling there with Ty and the duke. I don’t know if you are aware of my background, but in some ways, I’ve been an outsider at court myself. While the power of Duke Cynbarion and Ty will provide a certain shield for you against less friendly members of the aristocracy, perhaps I could share some savory bits of knowledge about individuals you will likely meet. I could ease your way. Please say you’ll let me make amends. Come walk with me.” Melisande finished with an artful smile.
