The Hunt (Shifter Origins)

by Harper A. Brooks

  He began to pace, his eyes never leaving Cara. First, stop the bleeding. He needed a thick cloth, something to soak up the blood. His bedsheets—made from an airy fabric for the spring and summer months—were too thin.

  Kael crossed his arms, his hands running over the white ceremonial cape he still wore. The material was stiff and heavy. He shrugged it off. Holding it out in front of him, he examined the shimmering white fabric. The cape would work, but it was too big as is. He would have to make it smaller.

  In one quick motion, he ripped the cape in half. The guards gasped.

  “Do either of you know how to extract poison?” Kael asked as he folded the cloth and sat at the edge of the bed. He pressed it against Cara’s wound, and an angry moan escaped her lips. Sweat gleamed on her forehead and shoulders.

  “My prince, your life is still in danger,” the leopard guard said, his voice trembling. “Please, step away from the panther woman. This may be a ruse, an attempt to get closer to you.”

  A tense muscle jumped in Kael’s jaw, but he continued to dab at the cut.

  “I don’t think it’s wise to—”

  “There is someone who might know how,” the young cheetah interrupted, lowering his spear. He was the same guard who had struck Cara by the river.

  Kael’s heart pounded. He glanced over his shoulder. “Who?”

  His voice was soft and timid. “There is an older woman who lives on this side of the river. She mixes plants, herbs, and tonics for medicine.”

  Kael had never heard of such a woman living in Sajra who mixed remedies. The medicine his family received was left from the Nobles’ rule. “Can you trust her? Is she good at her craft?”

  “My mother visited her when my brother broke out in a rash and again when my baby sister was born. She was underweight and very sick. Some call her a healer.”

  The cheetah wiped the sweat from his glossy forehead. It was the first time Kael had noticed his sandy blond hair. A few wet curls peeked out from his uniform’s head-wrap.

  The woman healer, the guard—Kael realized how many of his people he didn’t know. He had been living among these men and women for years, and he knew nothing about them.

  “Fetch the healer,” Kael ordered. “Make her swear to secrecy. No one must know why she has come or why Cara is here.”

  The cheetah disappeared. His light and quick footsteps faded away as he raced down the hall.

  “I need water to wash her wound,” Kael told the other guard, who stared at him, mouth agape. He was as old as Kael’s father had been, with a thin mustache and a turned up nose. When he hesitated, Kael growled, “Water. Now.”

  The leopard spun around and hurried away.

  Alone, Kael lifted the cloth from Cara’s gash, waiting for more blood to seep out. An aching pain started in the center of his chest, squeezing air from his lungs. To his surprise, no blood rose up. He tossed the stained cloth aside and touched Cara’s forehead, brushing back strands of black hair. Her skin was slick and hot under his fingers.

  The leopard returned with a bowl of water. It sloshed over the edges as he handed it to Kael.

  “Take your post outside,” Kael told him. “No one is allowed to know she is in here. Do you understand?”

  He gave a quick nod, saying nothing, and backed out of the room.

  Kael leaned over Cara’s unmoving frame. Slowly, he tilted the bowl to pour the water. The moment an icy drop touched her sliced flesh, Cara’s body jerked, and she hissed through clenched teeth. Kael leaped back, assessing her expression. Her eyes remained closed, but her face contorted in pain.

  He wasn’t sure if she could hear him, but he whispered to her, “Cara, I need to wash the wound. It may sting…” He shifted on the bed for a better angle over her and dipped the bowl again. This time, when the water touched the cut, her lips pressed together so tightly, they turned white. The red-tinted water drops ran down her elbow and left dark pools on the bedsheets. When the blood was washed away and he could see the slice in her skin, he picked up the clean half of his cape. With careful hands, he lifted Cara’s arm and wrapped the cloth around it twice. He tied a small knot to keep it in place.

  He sat back, filling his lungs with air, hoping to ease the burning sensation in his chest. What would his mother say if she saw his ruined ceremonial clothes? Better yet, what if she knew the reason for it—that he was keeping a panther woman hidden in his bedroom and treating her wound? Regis Jaleh would be furious. She may even have the entire palace cleansed after Cara left. If his father were still alive, Kael was sure he would have disowned him.

  A strangled, bitter laugh escaped his throat. He needed to remember that in four days he would be the new rei of Sajra. He would choose his mate and run in the Hunt with a woman he didn’t know. His stomach sank. That hadn’t been his plan at all. He had watched his mother and father together. Salus ruled and Jaleh followed. He had never seen any affection between them. It was always about Sajra and how to mold Kael into a rei that could continue the tiger reign.

  Kael longed for love, passion. He wanted a woman who would rule beside him and not be his silent shadow. Whenever he attended his father’s speech before the Hunt’s yearly race, he saw the way couples’ eyes shined for each other, the women’s heads wrapped in their mates’ colored scarves. It told a story of love so powerful Sajra herself had blessed them with eternal happiness.

  He glanced at the door and gritted his teeth. Where is this healer?

  Kael dunked his fingers in the water bowl. The chill against his skin offset the heated heaviness of the room. He touched the nape of his neck, the drops cooling him as they kissed his flesh and raced down his spine. Kael dipped his fingertips again and let them drifted across Cara’s forehead and down her cheeks.

  Her lips parted in response. They had gained back some of their soft, pink color.

  Cara had fire in her. She was clever, protective, and brave. Kael had only known her for a short time, and already he was sure that she would risk everything for the ones she loved, even if that meant imprisonment or death.

  That was what he wanted. That was what Sajra needed in a regis.

  Every muscle in Kael’s body tightened suddenly. Was he really thinking such things about a panther? But as his eyes traveled the length of Cara’s body as she rested in his bed, he only saw a beautiful and very ill woman. He knew what she was, but his species hadn’t mattered to her when she’d shoved him out of the way of the assassin’s dart. Why did it still matter to him?

  Kael hopped to his feet. Even unconscious, Cara was still drawing him in. Back in the prison, when she had landed on top of him, for a moment he could see them together, lost in ecstasy, with naked bodies locked and limbs tangled. Just thinking about it again made his heart knock against his ribs. Was this part of the panther trickery his father spoke of?

  Kael marched away from the bed to the balcony doors. The colored glass skewed the view of the towering trees, the river, and the marketplace. He ran a trembling hand over his face and sighed.

  “Prince Kael.”

  He spun around. The young cheetah guard entered the room. His cheeks were flushed from the run. “I brought the healer,” he declared and then stepped aside. With the help of a carved wooden staff, an old woman hobbled inside. A lavender and emerald scarf was wrapped around her head and tied under her chin. Brown cheetah spots decorated her sagging cheeks, nose, and chin. She had no eyebrows, and her cloudy green eyes shone against the leathery appearance of her skin.

  Her tired gaze roamed over Kael, and her nostrils stretched open, drawing Kael’s attention to the gold ring looped through one. It was connected by a chain to another ornament dangling from her ear.

  “Healer,” Kael began as she made her way to him. He gestured to Cara on the bed. “This woman has been poisoned.”

  The woman turned her head and spat on the tiled floor. When she spoke, her voice was piercing and scratchy, like the cry of a crow. “Nura, boy. I was born with a name.”

  Her
brash tone took him aback. No one besides his parents had ever spoken to him like that. He gritted his teeth, remembering he needed her help. If he reprimanded her, she might refuse to treat Cara. Then, she would die.

  “Nura, then,” Kael replied. “This woman is dying from poison.”

  The cheetah guard stepped closer to the healer. “Bow before the tiger prince,” he said.

  She shot a narrowed glare at him. “Tigers and their obsession with status,” she hissed. She turned to Kael. “I was raised in the golden age, when the Nobles ruled, long before your parents were even a twinkle in your grandparents’ eyes. Will making an old woman bow be enough to convince you that you are of superior birth?”

  “Y-You must bow,” said the guard. “He’s your prince.”

  He glanced at Kael for a command, but Kael had lost his voice at her boldness. As annoyed as he was at her, he swallowed his outburst. Nura was his only hope of saving Cara from the poison.

  Kael waved the guard away. He took his post outside the bedroom door, beside the leopard.

  When the door closed, Kael turned to the healer. “She’s dying,” he said. “I cleaned and wrapped the gash, but I don’t know how to extract the poison. Please. I brought you here for your help.”

  Nura placed both hands on her staff and lifted her chin. Her long sleeves fell back, revealing strange inked shapes decorating her hands. The bare skin above her eyes lifted, as if she was satisfied with his answer. She moved to the side of the bed, her staff clicking against the floor with every shaky step. She examined Cara; her long nails skimmed along her forehead, neck, and then her wounded arm.

  “Did you poison her?” Nura asked calmly.

  Kael’s eyes widened. “Of course not!”

  “Just curious.” Nura shrugged. “But then, I suppose, you wouldn’t tell me the truth even if you had.”

  “Someone shot a dart at me laced with poison. She pushed me out of the way. It grazed her arm.”

  Nura tapped the dip in her chin. “A panther risking her life to save a tiger, and a tiger begging for help to save her. Maybe all hope isn’t lost for Sajra.”

  Kael didn’t know what she meant by that, but he didn’t press. This back and forth was just wasting time.

  “I don’t know the poison,” he said. “No one can identify it. It killed my father.”

  Nura lifted her head and sniffed the air. “Mint,” she murmured. “It leaves a scent of mint, is that right?”

  Kael stepped closer, inhaling deeply. He didn’t smell anything but the spicy scent of pepper attached to Nura’s clothing. It tickled his nose. “Yes. Mint.”

  Her eyes widened. “Teralau,” she breathed.

  “What?”

  “Teralau.” She let go of her staff, her movements quick and jerky. Kael caught it before it clattered to the floor, and leaned it against the bed. “Or as some used to call it, Hell’s Hand.”

  Her sudden hurry worried Kael. Saying nothing more, Nura reached into her pocket and pulled out a sprig of a leafy plant. She reached her hand into the dress’s front, between her breasts. Kael glanced away, wincing. When he looked back, she held a small water canteen made from a hollowed-out gourd. She used her teeth to uncork it.

  “I have never heard of teralau,” Kael replied, wondering what this was all about. He tried to follow her hands as they extracted twigs, leaves, and powders from different hidden parts of her clothing.

  “How long ago did this happen?” As she spoke, she continued to work, ripping off pieces of herbs, crushing others, and stuffing them all into the canteen.

  Kael hesitated. “Minutes ago…”

  “Then we don’t have much time. Teralau used to grow wild in the Bilha Forest but was cleaned out during the Nobles’ reign. It mimics the scent of mint, seeming harmless, but carries a deadly fire inside. Starts as a vine, but soon brilliant red and orange flowers sprout. The vines are harmless, but if the flower is crushed and enters the body, it causes a quick yet painful death. Even a drop will kill.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “It just draws out the torture. If she isn’t already, she will be begging for the end soon—she will want death.”

  Kael’s heart constricted, and he stopped breathing for a moment. He glanced down at Cara. The muscles in her cheeks, neck, and chest twitched; the ones in her wounded arm jumped under her skin. Her mouth was frozen in an agonized grimace.

  His voice shook, panic gripping him. “Can you help her? Can you extract the poison?”

  Nura pushed the cork back in and shook the canteen so vigorously that Kael thought the old woman might teeter over. “There is no way to extract the poison. It is traveling through her blood now,” she said, and with her teeth, she ripped out the cork again. She swiped her arm out, pushing Kael aside, grabbed Cara’s chin, and tugged down to part her lips. Nura held her fingers out and poured the liquid over her hand, catching any of the solid ingredients before they could enter Cara’s mouth.

  “For this tonic to work, let’s hope only a small amount of the teralau got in. It should block the poison and help her expel it.”

  “Should?” Kael didn’t like the hesitance in her words. His stomach knotted, and he felt sick.

  Nura frowned. “There is no guarantee,” she explained, tossing the wet weeds onto the floor by Kael’s feet. She tucked the canteen back in her clothes and reached into her long sleeve. She pulled out a sharpened rock with a jagged edge and pointed tip.

  “What are you doing?” he asked

  “All these questions!” she huffed and seized Cara’s arm. With her nails, Nura undid the bandage’s knot with ease and unwrapped it to expose the cut. She touched the rock to Cara’s open wound.

  Alarmed, Kael touched the dagger at his hip. “Step back,” he ordered as realization hit him. She was going to slice Cara open. “Don’t touch her!”

  Nura only rolled her eyes. “I need to rid her of some of the poisoned blood. New, pure blood will take its place and help her fight this.” She took the water bowl and placed it under Cara’s arm. “Or do you want her to die? Then I am wasting my time.”

  Kael clenched his teeth. It seemed too barbaric to cut Cara wide open and purposely let her bleed, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Her groans, twitchy muscles, and the sweat glossing her forehead told him that she was dying.

  “Will it hurt her?” he asked.

  Nura’s cracked lips curled into an amused smile. “You really care for her, hm? I am sure she won’t feel it. Compared to what the poison is doing, this will be but a tickle.”

  Kael hesitated, unsure if he could trust this stranger. But what choice did he have? “All right,” he said, stiffening. “Go on.”

  Nura ran the rock’s tip across the gash, pushing harder than Kael expected. Crimson liquid erupted, pouring over the sides of Cara’s slender arm. Nura didn’t even flinch as she held the bowl and collected the blood.

  He winced.

  The blood flowed and flowed. The color faded from Cara’s skin, but the twitching of her muscles stopped. When the bowl was almost filled to the brim, Nura pinched the sides of the cut with two fingers.

  Nura wrapped his makeshift bandage around the wound again and pushed the bowl into his hands. Kael placed it on the floor near the bed. How could she even be alive after so much blood had been drained from her?

  “What now?” he asked. “Will she be all right? How do I know it’s worked?”

  Nura picked up her staff with unsteady hands and started back for the door. “She needs to rest.” She glanced over her shoulder, her expression weighted with regret. “But remember, if too much of the teralau swims through her veins, it will overpower everything else. I’m sorry, but it’s no longer in our hands. All you can do now is pray to the blessed mother Sajra that the girl will live.”

  Chapter Six

  “Cara…” Kael’s muffled voice drifted back to her ears. It sounded as if he was speaking to her underwater. “Cara…”

  Her eyelids snapped open. Where was she? The smooth black walls star
ed back at her, and she sighed. She was still sitting in the palace’s prison cell.

  Cara searched her foggy memory for the facts. Her mother’s scarf. Kael’s apology. The poisoned dart.

  She’d smelled mint and shoved Kael out of the way. She remembered the sharp sting of the assassin’s dart as it grazed her. She touched her arm, but when she pulled her hand away, no blood stained her fingers.

  Her skin was smooth and unmarked.

  She frowned. How was that possible?

  “Cara…” It was Kael’s voice again, soft and breathy, speaking to her from somewhere far away. She glanced around the prison cell. It was empty and dark. Not even the two piles of grass were there to keep her company.

  That was strange. They couldn’t have just disappeared. When she drew in a deep breath, the musky scents she remembered were gone.

  “Cara, everything’s going to be all right.”

  Where was his voice coming from? Her gazed whipped around again, finding no one else in the cell with her. She was alone.

  “Kael?” she called out. She looked up to see that the crimson sheet was gone from the ceiling. Only the black night sky covered her, dotted with glittering diamond stars.

  Had she really been out of it that long?

  Her eyes dropped to the wall in front of her. The prison door—her one sure way out—was gone. A wave of panic washed over her. Only the mountain rock encircled her, smooth, black, and impenetrable. There was no way in or out.

  But then how could she hear Kael’s voice? Maybe there was another exit that she couldn’t see. “Kael, where are you?” she shouted. Her trembling voice echoed back at her, making her pulse race. “Kael?”

  Movement nearby caught her eye. She looked down and gasped. Kael was lying underneath her. She was straddling his hips. He hadn’t been there a few moments ago. His dark hair spread out, and his amber eyes flamed as they traveled up and down her body.