The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  His hands sprang open and Emma rolled her shoulders, finally taking a look around the room. Colors were still too bright and sharp, and her eyes felt dry and grainy. Most of the jaguar guards looked at her with expressions of suppressed awe. Horne and Andres, though, regarded her with matching, glittering eyes and smug half smiles. They had seen enough by now not to be shocked.

  Katenka looked up at her with wide eyes, the look in them old and cautious, the rest of her face terribly young. Slowly, her gaze shifted to her father. Emma swore she heard a sonic pop as father and daughter locked eyes and something passed between them.

  “My hands, papa.” Katenka forced her clenched fists open, spread her fingers, raised her hands. Yevgeny looked down and so did Emma.

  There were the bite marks, red and bloodied and swollen, but that wasn’t what they were looking at. The princess’s fingers were a cool, lilac shade of blue, tinged black around the base of her dainty fingernails. Her skin was darkening as though she was calling the change.

  It seemed to mean something to Yevgeny, because he stifled a sound that was more wolf than man. “But the change?”

  Emma was thoroughly confused. Katenka shook her head, a bitter expression twisting her little bow of a mouth. “Close. So close.” Katenka’s voice broke on the last word and she shut her mouth with an audible clack, tears filling her eyes. Yevgeny reached out and pulled her to him, wrapped her in huge arms. Katenka dug her nails into her father’s skin to keep from crying.

  “I’m missing something here,” Emma said slowly.

  From somewhere behind Emma and to the left came Red Sun’s signature grunt. “We all are, sweetcheeks.”

  Seshua shifted position, and Emma took it as a good opportunity to stand up and get away from him. He gave her a dark, rueful look before his face settled back to being arrogant and unreadable. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and blinked once at Katenka as if in deference before speaking to Emma. “The wasting illness prevents Katya from the change.”

  It took a second for that to sink in. When it did, Emma’s mind jumped to Rain, back at the ranch, who she’d had to rescue from inadvertently giving himself brain damage by not changing back to human form for too long. Did it work the same way with the form reversed?

  Emma looked at Yevgeny and didn’t like the stark expression in his eyes, or the way his shoulders vibrated with the force with which he held his daughter. “You’re telling me she hasn’t changed since she started…since the illness took hold?”

  Katenka looked up, eyes crystal bright but dry. “You could say that.”

  Yevgeny’s hold got tighter and Katenka made a small noise, which he ignored. “Katya was born with the illness, Emma. She has never called the change.”

  Emma was lucky; Fern kicked a chair into place just as her legs decided not to hold her anymore. She was too horrified to thank him. “That shouldn’t be possible.” She looked up at Fern, then from him to Seshua. “Right?”

  Neither of them had an answer for her. Yevgeny cleared his throat and reluctantly let Katenka go, rearranging blankets around her to prop her up. “Katya is strong. She is sole heir to the royal line. I would expect nothing less of the Russka wawkalaki’s finest daughter.” He gave Katenka a grim smile, even though she scowled up at him.

  “Papa is being grandiose,” said Katenka with a roll of her eyes for Emma. “He and the others have kept me alive, using the Call to share their beasts with mine — and besides, it is not as though I have never changed.” Katenka’s voice softened. “Mother could still call the change while she carried me.”

  Emma could only stare, unable to believe the girl could sit there acting so casual.

  Yevgeny’s voice startled her, hard and laden with power. With anger. “Senka believed the more time Katya spent changed in the womb, the better a chance she had at life.” He looked away.

  Emma met Katenka’s eyes. “Senka?”

  Katenka smiled. “Mother.”

  Yevgeny paced to the window, crossing his arms, body almost yearning toward the freedom beyond the glass. He gave them his profile — unable, it seemed, to turn his back on a room full of jaguars. “We did not know she had begun to waste until after Katya’s conception. Thereafter it was swift. We both prayed Katya would be spared, but she was not.”

  Katenka eyed her father, drawing herself up as straight as she could within the deep nest of bedding. A solemn, too mature look stole over her face. “I was spared, papa. I have lived longer with this illness than mother did.” Yevgeny half turned, and Katenka’s eyes darkened as though she knew what he was going to say next. “Longer to live in hope of a chance, papa.”

  Yevgeny’s eyes flared molten amber, and the scent of snow and blood and earth leapt into the room like a specter, suddenly just there. A chorus of jaguar growls followed, but Yevgeny had eyes only for his daughter. “That chance is gone, Katya.” His voice, rough, slashing through the thick air. “Gone.”

  Emma found herself on her feet without remembering having gotten there. “You’re out of line,” she bit out, loud enough to startle him into looking at her. She felt something low in her body clench with fear when his gaze hit hers, but forced herself not to back down. “You’re her father. You’re supposed to set an example, not give up on her at the first sign of failure. You can’t talk to her like that.” She startled herself with the angry heat in her voice and Katenka’s eyebrows climbed halfway up her forehead, but it was nothing compared to the look Yevgeny turned on her.

  Just as it had the first time, his gaze sucked her down and held her there. Her body locked with fear, mouth gone dry, insides quivering with the urge to shrink down and hide anywhere — under the bed would do — but his blazing eyes wouldn’t let her. Dimly she noticed Nadya take a step away from him, hands floating to rest loosely in front of her, almost like a guard stance for fighting — as though she might actually challenge him. If Emma hadn’t been trying not to fall to her knees and whimper, she might have been impressed.

  Yevgeny paid no attention to his restless wolves. “How dare you.” His voice was cold iron. His hair lifted away from his face, and Emma’s heart leapt into her throat and flapped like a trapped thing — but she couldn’t look away from him. She knew she had to, but she just damn well couldn’t.

  “No.” Fern’s voice startled Emma so bad she gasped. “How dare you. ”

  Yevgeny’s murderous gaze flicked to Fern and Emma was free. Her eyes shot to Fern’s face. His black eyes were serene, none of the terror she’d felt with Yevgeny staring her down. His hand found hers and warmth filled her, dry and smoky, along with something else — some dark thing with too many legs and an intelligence forged solely of instinct, the shadow of his beast. And the tarantula didn’t give a damn about Yevgeny’s wolf, not the challenge in his eyes or the scent of death in his magic as it thickened the air.

  Emma’s heart began to slow, matching Fern’s, and calm filled her. She heard Seshua make an interested noise, ignored him. You’re not afraid, she sent. Realization crashed over her. You’re not scared of any of them, you never have been.

  Fern smiled, shook his head, black hair bristling. Sure I’m scared. But my beast isn’t. It can’t be, it doesn’t know how.

  Of course not. The smoky thing that slid through her, the essence of Fern’s beast shared through the bond of the Enam-Vesh, wasn’t complicated enough for fear, only action and reaction. Emma had never wondered why Fern calmed her, made her brave, never thought about it.

  His glittering eyes narrowed. I have never made you brave. You came to us that way.

  She shook her head. You’re not afraid, yet you’re so — she caught herself, but Fern read her anyway.

  Submissive? He laughed in her mind, low and warm, and it made her heart stutter. You think I should be dominant because my beast is unafraid, but I could never be that — the desire to control is fueled by fear. I could never be alpha. My beast just isn’t wired that way.

  Emma squeezed Fern’s hand and looked back at Ye
vgeny, and didn’t feel like running away, but this dance was gonna get old if she had to do it again. Yevgeny breathed hard, but didn’t seem inclined to apologize. He just stared back at Emma, eyes glowing, chest expanding like bellows and straining against the civilized red silk of his shirt.

  Emma tried to remember that she actually wanted to help. Just because the wolf king couldn’t control himself didn’t change that. She’d met worse — at least Yevgeny had his reasons. Then again, maybe it was Fern’s calming influence making her think that. She glanced down at Katenka, wide eyed but looking tired now; the princess seemed thinner, grayer than before. She glanced back and forth between Emma and Fern, an interested little frown pinching her white brows.

  Emma let go of Fern’s hand and moved closer to the bed. “Katenka, you okay?”

  She nodded, but her gaze didn’t track quite right. “Hm. Fine. Feel good.” Her eyelids came down, turning her green eyes dark as pondwater. “Wolf is so close,” she sighed, sinking down into the pillows. “But not close enough.”

  Nadya stepped up to Yevgeny, slim face drawn with tight lines. “This is too much for her,” she said in a hushed voice, eyes averted.

  Yevgeny’s mouth twisted and he reached out for his daughter’s hand. “I know. Katya?”

  The princess sighed again. “I’m fine, papa. Better than in a long time.” Her eyelids fluttered open, and her jade eyes were darker still. Yevgeny’s breath caught. The princess didn’t notice. “Don’t feel bad leaving me,” she said with as much force as she could muster. “Wolf is close. It is good.” She closed her eyes. Then cracked one lid open. “Can we finish breakfast when I get up?”

  Yevgeny bent to kiss his daughter’s pale forehead, lips twisting in a sad, rueful smile that was more heartbreaking to look at than any expression of anguish ever could be. “Of course,” he whispered. “Luka and Nadya will stay with you. We’ll wake you up soon.”

  Katenka snorted. “I hope not.” And with that, her breathing slowed to a deep, shaking rhythm and her face relaxed into sleep.

  Yevgeny’s eyes came up and met Emma’s, hard now. “We should go downstairs. To talk.”

  Emma couldn’t agree more.

  “If Yekaterina says she cannot call the change, then she is not mistaken.” Yevgeny paced in front of the empty fireplace in the drawing room, his movements sharp with a kind of awkward grace. Seshua and Alexi watched him with wary eyes from their position behind the couch. Emma had been relegated to an armchair, probably because it was farther away from the wolf king than the couch, but Yevgeny seemed to Emma too agitated to launch an effective attack on her if he was so inclined. Besides, he’d have to make it through the eight maidens surrounding her armchair, plus Fern and Anton, who stood either side of her — not to mention Red Sun and the rest, hovering close by.

  Yevgeny stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his chest, as though trying to appear calmer. “My daughter has spent the last twelve years of her life trying and failing to call the wolf. If the wolf could come, it would have.” He dragged a hand through his hair, sweeping the silver and auburn mass away from his face.

  Emma leaned forward, carefully brushing a whorl of coppery hair off her knee. Toleni mightn’t appreciate getting accidentally scalped if Emma crossed her legs and got tangled. “How have you kept her alive if she can’t change?”

  Yevgeny shot Emma an unreadable look and resumed his pacing. “As Katya told you, we kept her alive with our own beasts.” Yevgeny’s gaze flicked to Ivan, the blond wolf with the dirty eyes who Yevgeny had only minutes previously seen fit to properly introduce to Emma and her entourage. Ivan gazed flatly back at his king, and Yevgeny continued. “My bloodline is strong enough to share my own power with my daughter, and those wolves who are bound to me by pack can therefore do the same for her, to a certain extent.” He spread his hands. “The touch of my beast, and that of Ivan and Nadya and the others of the pack old enough or dominant enough to have significant power, nourishes Katya’s wolf. It has not withered as we feared it might.” He opened his mouth to go on, but then seemed unable to. His teeth came together with a clack.

  Emma looked at Seshua. “Can the jaguars do that?”

  Seshua clenched his jaw, the only indication he was unhappy with the question. “No. Jaguars do not have pack. Our humanity draws us together, not the beast.”

  Fern had told her a similar thing once, that the human side of the jaguars was what established hierarchies and led to war, poverty, and slavery within their race.

  “So it’s pack that makes the difference.” Emma tried to wrap her head around it. “And making the pledge hardly helped at all.” She squeezed her eyes shut, pinched the bridge of her nose. She was so not going to cry in front of everyone. She could just imagine the look on Alexi’s face if she started blubbing.

  Yevgeny’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “It did help. The wolf seems close enough now to color Katya’s skin, darken her eyes, so close I can almost smell it.” He sighed. “The way you talk, the look on your face —” Emma lifted her eyes, and found his expression soft, sad, almost enough to make him beautiful. “You think you have failed, but you have done more than any of us with all our power could do for her. You are…” His throat worked. “You are stronger than us.” His mouth twisted. “Just not strong enough. And if not you, then no one.” His face closed down, and he turned to stare out the window.

  Shafts of mid morning sunlight filtered through the glass, dust motes swirling in the warm light; too warm, too hopeful. Too pretty. Yevgeny had all but admitted that his daughter would die, perhaps later now, but one day, and no one had the power to stop it. It didn’t seem fair for the day to be sunny and warm and beautiful.

  No one had the power. Something clicked inside Emma, turned over, slid home. She sucked in a breath, felt Fern stiffen beside her. Anton’s hand landed on her shoulder.

  “Em?” His voice was low, wary. She resisted the urge to shrug him off and looked up at Yevgeny.

  “I need to talk to Seshua,” she said. “Alone.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Seshua straighten, but she stayed focused on the wolf king. “I wouldn’t ask you to leave your own room, but —”

  “It’s yours.” Yevgeny cut her off, eyes narrowed with interest, but he didn’t question her. “Ivan.” The blond wolf followed his king to the door, and stayed by his side as Yevgeny held the door open.

  “Everybody,” Emma said when the maidens hesitated. She looked up at Fern. “Even you”. His eyebrows rose, but he just squeezed her shoulder and shot Seshua a warning look — and then led Anton away by the elbow. Anton didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t fight either.

  Even Alexi looked reluctant to go, and Emma thought something passed between him and the jaguar king before Alexi tore his gaze away and stalked, stony faced, after the others.

  The door clicked closed. Emma knew they would be able to hear if they were still in the hall, but that wasn’t the point.

  “To what do I owe this honor, pequeña? ” Seshua’s tone was thickly amused, but he stood very still. Waiting, unsure. Good to know she could still take him off guard.

  She stood, looking down at the toes of her boots, and slipped off her jacket. The leather was warm, and the light filled room was heating up. And this way, she had unhindered access to the gun — she didn’t plan to use it, but at least with it visible against the gray of her silk knit sweater, he’d be reminded she wasn’t defenseless.

  Felani would be proud of her, using the outfit to her advantage. The rig sort of ruined the nice lines of the sweater, but it made up for it with the pleasant smell of supple leather and the pretty matte steel of the firearm.

  Finally she met Seshua’s eyes. His skin gleamed like blue marble in the hazy sunlight from the window. Golden sunshine turned his eyes to brilliant sapphire lights and Emma had to remind herself to breathe.

  “I’m not strong enough to save Katenka,” she said evenly. “But I’m strong enough to bring her beast closer to the surface. Wh
at would happen if I was more powerful?”

  Seshua was so still, Emma wasn’t sure he was breathing. Then he blinked. “You mean,” he paused, licked his upper lip, the only truly nervous gesture Emma had ever seen him make. “If you were in possession of your full powers as Caller of the Blood. ”

  Emma nodded, not trusting her voice.

  Seshua actually paled.

  He unfolded his crossed arms and gripped the back of the couch with both hands. Several expressions chased across his face, until it smoothed and his eyes went hooded.

  He didn’t look happy with himself when he spoke. “I don’t know,” he bit out. “I could not guarantee it would make any difference to Katenka’s condition.” He coughed, startling Emma; the sound was more cat than human, a sound of frustration. “I would hedge a guess that with your powers in ascendance, it might be enough to save her, but I cannot be sure. I am almost sure, but not sure, do you understand?” He closed his eyes and swore harshly in a language Emma didn’t recognize, and he gripped the back of the couch so hard his knuckles turned pale blue.

  He was telling her the truth. He must know what she was thinking, yet he told her the truth when he could have lied, could have told her what he wanted her to hear in order to convince her — but she didn’t need convincing, hadn’t needed it since she realized there might be one last chance at saving the wolf princess.

  All she needed was courage. If Seshua could be brave enough to behave with a little honor, then she could do this. She had to.

  She put her hand on the butt of her gun, just in case he was jumpier than he looked — if he went for her now, then eight inches of firepower between them ought to cool him down. She took a deep breath. “I want to complete the ritual to awaken my full powers. Finish what we started.”