by Lee Hayton
When the creature flew higher, Mal took the chance to run forward. “Get back to the house!” he yelled over his shoulder at Shandra and her brothers. “Run for cover.”
As the dragon whirled in the air, readying itself for another run, Mal quickly checked the position of his clan brothers.
Good. They’d spread out in formation behind him, guarding his flanks.
The thought flitted across his mind—what was a dragon doing so far from the Davelmiotas? The terrifying creatures, not shifters but true dragons, usually didn’t stray far from home.
Then the dragon sped toward him. From the tilt of its head, Mal could tell it was readying a mouth burst of flame.
Its eyes seared into his, burning like lava being spat from the mouth of a volcano. The claws on its outstretched front legs twinkled like blades in the sunlight.
It swooped.
It missed.
Mal turned in confusion, the blade lowered to his side as he tried to track what had happened. The dragon landed on the field twenty yards past them and slowed down to a trot, then a walk.
As he stared, his guts twisting in confusion, the creature shrank, turned into a woman. A shifter after all.
“Mom!?” Mal took a step toward the woman, recognizing himself in the rise of her cheekbones, the line of her jaw.
He checked Shandra’s position, seeing she hadn’t run as he’d told her to. Instead, she stood nearby with a weapon in hand, ready to fight. He should have known she wouldn’t meekly retreat to let the clan battle it out in front of her.
A pity. Now she’d be privy to another list of things he didn’t want her to know.
“It’s good to see you, son.”
The woman he used to call his mother walked closer to him, not bothering with the pretext of offering an affectionate hug. Mal studied her for a few seconds, taking in the changes since he’d seen her last. Hair grayer, muscle tone weaker.
Still with more warrior left inside than he wanted to fight.
A myriad of emotions rose up inside of him, but Mal didn’t have time to sort through them now. She needed to go.
“What do you want?” He asked the question brusquely, because a home visit wasn’t something his mother had ever been into. Unless there was a pressing need, she wouldn’t be here.
“I thought you’d want to know; your home is under attack. I’ve come to ask you to join with your brethren and fight off the invaders.” She paused for a minute, scanning him up and down beneath heavy lashes. “It’s good to see you, son.”
It wasn’t the name she’d called him the last time they met.
“Who’s attacking the Davelmiotas?” Sulli came up to stand at Mal’s right side, giving him a quick pat of solidarity on his shoulder. “Surely no one is foolish enough to believe they can win land from the dragons.”
Mal’s mother lifted an eyebrow. “Half the districts are now ruled over by fools,” she said in a dry tone. “Hadn’t you noticed?”
“We’ve been too busy hiding away from the mess you made.” Mal’s throat was so tight his voice came out in a thin squeak. The anger that she could still do this to him boiled along with the rage she’d dared to show her face here when things might finally be coming back on track.
His mother stared at him, her expression impassive. After a minute, she shifted on her feet, turning to look over her should as though checking if reinforcements were on the way. Mal tried to think logically, a task made harder each second the woman stood in front of him.
Since when had his mom called upon him for help?
“Aren’t you going to answer Sulli’s question properly?” Mal took a step forward, hefting the weight of Halv’s blade in his hand. “We can hardly give you an answer when we can’t measure the risk.”
After a second, her lip curled. “It’s some damned mage from out in the Gimoild. Because they control that shitty little province, they somehow got the idea they could take control of ours.”
She spat into the dirt at his feet without shifting her eyes away. “The Grim have had nothing better to do for the past few centuries but hide away in their caves and fuck like rabbits. You wouldn’t believe how many of the scraggy creatures there are now.” Her smiled slipped. “There’re twenty for every one of us shifters. One hundred for every pure dragon left.”
“That doesn’t sound like a battle with very good odds.” Mal tried a smirk on for size, attempting to match the one his mother displayed. “Why should we rush to your aid?”
“Because it’s your home, too.” She advanced on him a step, poking Mal in the chest, her eyes spitting fury. “The lot of you should be tumbling over yourselves to volunteer. Unless I raised a coward.”
Mal grabbed his mother’s finger and held it tight. “You didn’t raise anyone, and our home is here. This is our mistress, and this is her farm.”
His mom turned, her mouth opening wide with shock. “Her?” She tugged her hand free to point at Shandra, giving a mocking laugh. “You’re choosing her? She’s nothing but a fucking human!”
“And you’re nothing but an old woman getting tossed out of her land because she’s too weak to hold onto it.” This time, it was Mal who stepped forward, forcing his mother to step back. “I suggest you get out of here while you still can. If you can’t fight off twenty Grim, then I don’t fancy your chances against five dragons and three humans.”
Chapter Eight
Shandra sat back on her heels and wiped her face with a handkerchief. The warmth of the day, combined with the work in the fields, had left her feeling overheated. Although everybody had gone straight back to their jobs after the strange confrontation that morning, she couldn’t settle. Every few seconds, she glanced up to see if Mal was doing okay.
He’d never told her he had a mother.
Well, obviously he had to have had one at some point, but she’d never guessed the woman was still alive. The omission shouldn’t have come as a surprise. After all, until his acceptance of her proposal yesterday, their relationship had been one of colleagues not confidants. Still, the surprise visit rankled.
Not least, because Shandra had spent the first few minutes of it scared to death.
Without a clue as to what to do, she’d followed the lead of the clan brothers. Now, Shandra wiped her hands clean of dirt and stood up. This was silly. She felt like everybody was working in awkward silence, waiting for somebody else to make a move, or say something.
Since she was the head of this farm, Shandra supposed that task fell to her.
“Mal?” She walked up to him slowly, picking her steps carefully amongst the clumped rows. “Did you want to talk about what just happened?”
Baile made a loud groaning noise. “Talk about our feelings? Have you ever known a man to think that’s a good idea?”
Shandra laughed at the small joke, grateful she wasn’t the only one making an effort. However, Baile was the worst person to join in the attempt. Mal’s head bowed closer to his work and his jaw tightened—a frequent reaction of his to Baile’s humorous asides.
“If you get any closer to that seedling, you’ll end up planted in the earth as well.”
Mal sat back, shielding his eyes while he looked up at her. For the first time, Shandra noticed fine lines radiating out across his face. The short visit from his mother aging him ten years.
“Would you like to help me prepare some food?” Shandra reached out a hand, daring him to say no. “And perhaps a cold sweet drink? I’ve some sugar left over in the pantry I’ve been storing up as a treat. I think we deserve it after our hard work today, don’t you?”
Although Mal took her hand and rose up to his feet, he didn’t make a move toward the farmhouse, staring into the far distance instead. His face creased into a frown, his new lines deepening. “Looks like we have company.”
What now?
Shandra turned, planting her feet wide apart and her hands on her hips. The company this morning hadn’t been well received, and it looked like their noon guests would fa
re about as well. From the flags carried by the two forerunners, it was Wella Ufsprig.
A thin sliver of fear wriggled in Shandra’s stomach, darting here and there before tying itself in a knot. She pressed a hand to her belly, then forced herself to drop it to her side. To feel fear was one thing, to show it another.
“Should we hide?” Mal turned to her. “I can get the lads to split and run in all directions if you think it easier.”
Shandra shook her head. “Just stay in the barn. You’re my harem now, and have every right to be out here, working alongside me.” She cleared her throat as her vocal cords tightened. “She can’t lay claim on you now—not with you attached to my name.”
The rules of harem were simple—no woman with an existing harem could lay claim to the men in another. Only a single woman could attempt such a pursuit.
From their last encounter, Shandra knew Wella held scant regard for the law but this bled into more than her district. To overturn these rules would draw condemnation from her fellow overlords. With so many of her people fighting a war on two fronts, it was not time to draw that type of attention.
The first men from Wella’s harem pulled up, reining in their horses and dismounting. Although they didn’t pull weapons into their hands, they laid their fingers on the handles of the swords at their hip.
Not that they’d need them. Wella had always had an eye for the strong and mighty. Her harem was the perfect embodiment of that predilection, the two specimens on show easily had a foot in height on Shandra, half a head on Mal. Their shoulders were so broad, she wasn’t surprised they’d eschewed the traditional shirts. Even a skilled tailor would have trouble fitting their massive proportions.
The men’s skin glistened in the sunlight, sweat trickling down their pectoral muscles to drip into their waistbands, darkening the material from khaki to black.
In response, Halv and Ricci closed in on Shandra’s flank, ready to defend her. Against such a mighty foe it would be a lost cause, but her heart swelled to think they had her back.
All thoughts Shandra might have held about potentially fighting one of these men disappeared as she stared up at them. When faced with the reality of six foot eight of steel muscle, her body shriveled into itself, turning fragile as glass.
Wella drew closer, her own horse festooned in such an array of ribbons and medallions, it was a wonder the poor creature could carry her at all.
She jumped down, slipping off her riding gloves and slapping them against the palm of her hand. She arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Shandra, not even acknowledging the younger siblings by her side.
“Your brother turns seventeen this week, doesn’t he?”
Wella’s rounded vowels and strict consonants betrayed her high level of schooling. A far cry from Shandra’s own voice. She’d sound like a common peasant in contrast.
“Did you think I’d forget our deal?”
“Ricci turns seventeen next month,” Shandra said, keeping her voice low so the mild correction didn’t sound too confrontational. It felt odd to talk about him when the boy stood just a few feet away. “I still have a few weeks before the notice comes due.”
“Hm.” Wella turned and looked around the farm, scanning the fields, the barn, and the house with her nose stuck up in the air. “Is all this land your farm?”
Shandra nodded and cleared her throat. “It is. To the windbreak of trees in each direction.”
“It’s a big place.” Wella turned back to her attendants, summoning one to her side with a jerk of her chin. “How much acreage would be in this place? Do you think it would serve as a base when our army next comes through here?”
The words alarmed Shandra, and she stepped forward, holding her hand up. “Your army can’t camp on my lands. These fields are needed for planting.”
Wella’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon. “Not in winter, they’re not. Besides, your brothers would be pleased with the compensation, wouldn’t they?”
Shandra closed her eyes, summoning all her courage. “My brothers won’t be running the farm. I’m staying here.”
The overlord gave a short bark of surprised laughter. “Really? How do you intend to appeal the mandate? It would take a large stock of gold to buy yourself out.” She slowly scanned Shandra from head to foot and up again. “Surely, you’re not suggesting you can fight yourself free.”
“I now have a harem of my own.” Shandra forced her eyes to meet Wella’s harsh gaze. “I’m entitled to remain here, working my farm for the benefit of our district. My harem members will work beside me and my brothers.”
“Where?” Wella turned and surveyed the area once more. When finished, she sniffed and tilted her head to one side. “Are these men imaginary or invisible?”
“They’re working, just as I should be. Under the law, I’m entitled to remain free from the draft if I have more than four dependents. I have five plus my two brothers.”
Wella stepped forward, placing her palm flat against Shandra’s chest. The heat of her gaze seared her skin.
Shandra might have given in under other circumstances, but the men standing in the barn were now her responsibility. Their futures were intertwined with her own and if she caved, so too did they.
Then Wella stepped back and turned to her horse. She flicked a hand at one of her lead harem members, who helped her into the saddle. As she took the reins in her hands, the woman met Shandra’s gaze once more.
“Fine. I have other business in this area. I’ll think about it and return with my decision later.”
Wella pulled hard on the reins, her stallion rearing up on its hind legs, eyes wild, the bit digging into its lips and gums. With a toss of her long hair, she released the grip and turned the horse to face back where they’d come from. A whip jolted the beast into a run, and the harem members scrambled to mount and catch up.
Shandra pressed her palms flat against her stomach, her face burning with hot blood. It shouldn’t have been that easy.
It couldn’t be that easy.
Chapter Nine
Mal crept close to the entrance of the barn as Shandra explained her position to Wella. His concern for her safety evaporated as he listened to her words.
In all their discussions, Shandra had never once mentioned she was not only eligible for the draft but already committed to it. It meant the one woman they were hiding from was guaranteed to come knocking. Her silence had put them all in danger—the exact same situation he’d thought she was helping them avoid.
Did she intend to offer him or his brothers up to Wella Ufsprig—trade their life for her freedom?
Coming so soon on top of his mother’s visit, Mal’s anger ignited, and his face burned with heat. This wasn’t like him. Usually, he left the rage to Chance who’d perfected the ways to channel the energy into obtaining his own ends.
For Mal, the emotion was useless, bringing him dangerously close to a state where he wouldn’t be in charge of shifting. He’d turn, no matter what the consequences. He needed to cool off.
Backing farther into the barn, Mal leaned his forehead against the cool wall nearest the tap. He breathed the way he’d been taught as a young man when he reached the age where shifting first became a possibility. In through his nose, hold for a count of ten, then slowly exhale through his mouth.
Even as his anger receded, Mal stayed close to the water source—a simple precaution. He could hear his clan brothers whispering to each other, peering out at the preening display of power occurring right now in the yard.
In, hold, exhale.
It had been years since he’d been so near to losing control. Ever since joining Shandra at the farm, his emotions had been stirred up, changeable. Last night, he’d felt hope and relief that he and his brothers could stop running. This morning, his mother—who he hadn’t known was alive or dead, nor cared—had caught him off-guard, sending him straight to fury.
Now, betrayal pierced through to his soul.
“You don’t need to hide away any
longer,” Shandra said, coming into the barn. “Wella and her men have ridden away.”
“You used us.” Mal turned and planted his legs in a wide stance. His hands wanted to reach out and shake her, so he clasped them together behind his back.
Shandra eyed him warily, casting a glance to where his clan brothers still lingered. “I don’t know what—”
“You used me.” Mal pointed out of the door where Wella’s entourage was now just a smudge on the horizon. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Get us to agree to be your harem so you can trade out of your obligations.”
He heard his brothers shuffle past, sneaking out of range. Sulli stopped, calling out in a low voice, “We should leave this until later,” but Mal ignored him. The voice of reason was the last thing he wanted to listen to right now.
“I’m not sneaking anything.” Color leaped into Shandra’s cheeks, her lips flushing ruby red. “You never asked me why I wanted you to become my harem. If you had, I would have told you the truth.”
“Would you?” Mal shook his head and turned away, fighting to swallow. “It seems to me that you’d have kept that to yourself if Wella hadn’t forced it out of you.”
“And so what?” Shandra stalked closer, her arms folded in a tight line across her chest. “Were you going to tell me all about her pursuit of you?” Her voice rose into a shout as she grew into her indignation. “If the messenger boy hadn’t come to my door the first night you were here, would you ever have bothered to admit it?”
She stopped, panting from the effort of holding back tears. “I’m not the only one good at keeping secrets.”
Mal shook his head, wanting to point out all the ways the circumstances were different. That an example didn’t immediately spring to mind, just enraged him more. “It’s not the same.”
The lame words came out of his mouth and fell dead to the floor. Of course, it was the same. Don’t let your anger ruin this opportunity.
