Silver and Solstice

by TJ Nichols

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  About the Author

  By TJ Nichols

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Silver and Solstice

  By TJ Nichols

  Calvin is good at two things: stealing and being the worst boyfriend ever. He can’t help his sticky fingers, even though Rafe has pleaded with him to stop. When a job goes horribly wrong, Calvin’s fate is in the hands of his silversmith boyfriend.

  Rafe has done everything he can to put distance between himself and the restrictions of being a princeling. He has a craft, a shop, a shifter boyfriend, and lives a completely disreputable life.

  But to save Calvin from spending Solstice in a cage, Rafe will have to step up and face his father, head of the city guard. Rafe’s father has had enough of Calvin flouting the law. Shifters are supposed to be collared in the city.

  Calvin finally knows what to make for Rafe for solstice, though it breaks the promise they made to each other….

  Chapter 1

  CALVIN BROWSED the market stalls. At the far end, Rafe would be selling his wares, all shiny and silver—it was the silver that had first attracted him to the smith. But Rafe’s elvish eyes had been faster than Calvin’s hand, and he’d found himself making lame explanations and then repaying the debt in some rather fun ways.

  Nearly a year later and they were still together, much to the horror of Rafe’s royal parents. Calvin’s parents didn’t really care one way or the other as long as he was out of their hair. He had five younger siblings and his parents had bigger problems than how he made his coin.

  The market was a crush of people buying last-minute gifts for tonight and food for tomorrow. It was the perfect place to take a little extra. He never did any big jobs in his adopted city, but the occasional bit of pilfering was fine.

  The merchants always overcharged him because of his tufted ears. Plenty saw him as little better than a talking animal. As an uncollared crested cat, by city law, he could only shapeshift within the designated areas—all of them in public. He refused to go to the pens to be stared at, so he was hardly ever a crested cat. At home he sometimes prowled the house and ran up and down the stairs, playing with Rafe, just to remember what it felt like to be on four feet.

  He smiled and nodded at a pair of crested cats who made their way through the market. If not for their pointed ears with the tufts of hair at the ends, they could’ve passed for human at first glance. But the second glance revealed teeth that were a little too pointed, eyes that were too wide, and freckles across their cheeks where whiskers would grow when they shifted. One looked at him, gaze dropping to his neck, then hissed and turned away. Their gold necklaces glinted in the morning sun. They were collared. He shouldn’t have wasted his time.

  The snub chafed, even though he should be used to it. He was uncollared and living, while not illegally, certainly not legally. Cats like them saw being collared as a status symbol; they had someone. Those who didn’t often picked up the sword, as soldiering was one of the few professions that accepted cats and gave them full rights without belonging to one person. Soldiers didn’t wear gold around their necks. Their collars were leather thongs with iron tags.

  He snuck a piece of fruit from one seller too busy haggling with three other customers and ate as he eeled his way through the press of people. His life would be easier if he were collared. Collared cats had protections and privileges. But he didn’t want to surrender his freedom to someone else. Not even Rafe. And Rafe agreed. So they lived in a dangerous gray area where if Calvin was caught shifting at home, there’d be trouble. And without an elf or human laying claim to him, few would believe his word.

  Rafe’s stall would be doing well. At least Calvin wasn’t the only one who’d left it until the day before solstice to buy gifts. He had an excuse, though; elves were hard to buy for, and princelings even harder, and Calvin was getting rather short on coin because he’d been trying to behave himself.

  No big jobs meant no coin. He didn’t have a trade, had no desire to pick up a sword, and knew even if he moved back home there wasn’t enough work for him in the family mill. It had been luck that he’d landed on his feet and ended up in Rafe’s workshop and bed.

  A stall of brightly colored scarves caught his eye, and he wandered closer for a better look. The blue one drifting lazily on the breeze would look amazing on Rafe. Much prettier than the old one he used to wrap his hair up when he was working—he’d cut his hair short in a fit of pique after another argument with his father. Royals didn’t cut their hair. Calvin missed the long silvery strands and batting the end of the braid Rafe had once worn.

  The scarves wouldn’t be silk imported from over the sea. They’d be the much cheaper alternative made from biruk leaves. And still out of his price range. He moved past but kept an eye on the stall, waiting for a time when the crowd surged and he could slip back and take the one he wanted. At least then he’d have something for Rafe, proving he wasn’t a totally ungrateful mooch.

  He finished the sweet fruit, tossed the core on the ground with the rest of the food remains, wiped his fingers on his shirt, and strolled back up toward the stall. The usual nerves tumbled through his blood, but he brushed them aside as he flexed his fingers and extended his claws.

  While the seller was dealing with someone else’s crisis over which color looked the best with their eyes, Calvin slid the scarf free. It was in his hand and then up his sleeve, and in the next heartbeat, he was away from the scarves and standing at a stall that sold hot pies. He gave the man a coin and collected two pies. With the hot parcels in his hands, he made his way toward the end where Rafe was set up, feeling rather pleased with his efforts.

  Someone grabbed his arm.

  Calvin spun, almost dropping the pies. The human woman didn’t release his arm. For half a heartbeat, he thought she was part of the city guard, but she wasn’t wearing purple and wore no insignia.

  He relaxed. “Get your hand off me.”

  “I’ve got a job for you, Pet.”

  Calvin hissed. He was no one’s pet, though he knew many enjoyed living that way, a plaything of the rich. He’d turned down several offers, preferring to be broke and free than petted and collared. He didn’t want to be a well-trained house pet, wearing his owner’s gold, even if he didn’t have to shift in the designated pens and would be treated as a respectable citizen.

  She didn’t release him. “I’ve been watching you.”

  “I didn’t realize a man buying lunch was so riveting.” He pulled away. “My partner would like to eat while these are hot, so if you don’t mind….”

  Her grip was stronger than expected. “Yes… what would Rafe say if he knew what you really got up to?”

  She knew his lover’s name. She probably knew far too much about him, more than what even Rafe knew. “Spending his coin?”

  She smiled. “I was talking about your other activities. Your name has come up in conversation. We need someone with your skills.”

  “I gave that up.” Mostly. He’d turned down three big jobs that had come through his contacts. He’d been tempted to take the next one just to have a bit more coin.

  She tugged the fake silk out of his sleeve. “Really? I can have the guards here in a heartbeat.”

  Curses and claws. “Fine, what do you want from me?”

  “Tonight, meet us at the temple.”

  “I don’t steal from the gods.” He didn’t need that much bad luck.

  “There’s a special service there for solstice and plenty of pickings.”

  “It’s too close to home.” It was, no matter how his fi
ngers itched to dip into the fur-lined pockets of the rich.

  “You don’t have a choice, Pet.”

  “Use my name or you get nothing. I’m not a trained cat for you to toy with.”

  She continued as though he hadn’t interrupted. “Calvin. If you don’t help us, then Rafe will find himself in trouble. It wouldn’t look good for an elvish princeling to be breaking the law and letting a thief and uncollared cat roam his workshop on four legs.”

  It was a punch to the gut he should’ve been expecting, but he still couldn’t breathe. When he’d discovered Rafe was a princeling, Calvin had almost left. He’d expected Rafe to be wanting a pet, but Rafe had vowed that would never happen. He didn’t own Calvin, but he wanted him. That promise had left them both vulnerable. For how long had these people been watching them at home? “Leave him out of this.”

  Rafe was barely a prince, and there was certainly no money in being the youngest son of the king’s youngest brother. Calvin hadn’t even known Rafe was a princeling until Rafe had come home moaning about his parents and how they’d learned his lover was a crested cat.

  While some people frowned on any kind of mixed relationship, believing humans, elves, and cats should all be very much separate, most didn’t care. Elves, however, believed crested cats had only two purposes, fighting or fucking, and in both cases, they should be collared and their shifting limited and supervised. An uncollared cat was definitely not the kind of partner a princeling should have. He should’ve given Rafe up once he’d made amends for thieving. But by then he’d been having too much fun.

  Staying had been his second mistake. The first was being caught. He should never have started to like Rafe, much less love him and the life they had created.

  “I can’t, Pet. Be at the temple tonight and no one touches Rafe.”

  The pie burned Calvin’s hand, but he was no longer hungry. He was trying to get out of his old life—no more dangerous jobs, just the occasional bit of petty thieving—but no matter what he did, old friends and enemies kept trying to drag him back down.

  TOMORROW RAFE would go and see his family and have dinner in the castle. Calvin could only attend if collared and that wasn’t going to happen. So he’d get to mope around the house alone—probably on four feet. His family would be having their solstice meal, but it was two days’ travel and he couldn’t be bothered. There wouldn’t be enough to go around, and as much as his parents would make all the right noises about being happy to see him, they’d be secretly working out if the meal would stretch, and he couldn’t do that to them.

  They thought he had an apprenticeship in the city. They might have gotten that idea because he was living at the silversmith’s.

  He pushed the meat around his plate, torn between telling Rafe about what had happened and just going to do it. He was protecting Rafe by doing the job. But this had to be the last time. What if they asked and threatened again? He didn’t want to be forced into thieving—that would take all the fun out of it. He liked fun and a hint of danger, and he was no longer having fun.

  “What’s wrong with you? You went off to buy lunch and came back looking like someone had trimmed your whiskers. You’ve been unsettled ever since.”

  “I’m reflecting, like I’m supposed to do on solstice.” He didn’t belong in the city. If he was in one of the smaller towns, he wouldn’t get the stares that his ears and hands attracted. He’d be able to shift more freely and maybe he’d be able to find work beyond thieving or sweeping Rafe’s floors. He could turn his hand to anything—except soldiering—but when he looked at Rafe, he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  Rafe’s delicate silver eyebrows pinched together. His silver-blond hair marked him as an elf immediately. The short and choppy strands fell over his forehead and framed his face. Calvin wished he would grow it long again; it was like running his hands through silk. When he was in cat form, he wanted to roll in it… which wouldn’t end well for either of them.

  “Since when do you ever do what you’re supposed to? Are you sure you’re well?” Rafe smiled.

  “I’ve got a knot in my stomach like something isn’t right.” It had been swelling all day. There was something wrong with the job offer—aside from the threats to Rafe. If he told Rafe, Rafe would tell him not to go and that they’d deal with any trouble. But that wouldn’t include asking his father for help—Rafe would rather die than do that. Which was why Calvin had been given the chance to work off his debt instead of winding up behind bars. But Calvin didn’t want Rafe getting into trouble because of him either.

  Rafe reached out and ran his fingers over the tuft of one ear and Calvin leaned into the touch, allowing himself a small purr when Rafe tickled beneath his ear. “You could come tomorrow.”

  “Your parents hate me.”

  “They don’t hate you exactly. They just think—”

  “Cats should be collared. That I make a fine distraction but that you’re treating me like a partner, not a toy. I heard your father when he came to the shop last month. I’m an itch to be scratched.” He’d been out back, tending their small vegetable garden. If Rafe’s father had known he was there, he hadn’t been concerned about being overheard. Maybe he’d wanted Calvin to hear.

  “He’s traditional.” Rafe watched him with the clear blue eyes of an elf, defending his father in this breath, even though he often cursed him with the next.

  It was too easy to forget he was a princeling with other duties. Rafe had spent most of his life in the castle. How much of this, the silversmith and their relationship, was him rebelling? How long until he decided he’d had enough and he wanted to go back to the easy life of royalty?

  “He has to follow the rules…. He’s the king’s brother. I’m free to do what I want, though.” Rafe stood and kissed the top of Calvin’s head.

  But I am not.

  “Shall we?” Rafe pulled out a small wooden box and placed it in front of Calvin.

  Calvin hadn’t wrapped the scarf. He’d folded it up and put it in his pocket, feeling sick every time he touched it. If he hadn’t taken it, would the woman have approached him? Calvin hesitated and doubt flickered over Rafe’s face.

  Calvin smiled and pulled it out of his pocket with a flourish. The fake silk rippled out in a puddle of blues, and Rafe’s gaze was drawn to it. “I really had no idea what to get you, and then I saw this and thought of your eyes, and I knew it would be perfect.”

  He looped it around Rafe’s neck.

  Rafe touched the edge. “It’s very pretty. How did you….” He bit off the rest of the sentence, but Calvin knew what the words would’ve been. Rafe forced a smile. “Thank you. Open it.” He nudged the box closer.

  The knot in his stomach tightened, but he dutifully opened the box. Inside was a silver ring. The outside had been hammered so it looked like ripples on a stream. The ring itself was a spiral, the ends pointed and tufted like his ears.

  “Try it on. I can adjust it.”

  There was enough silver in the ring to feed his family for several days. It was the most expensive gift he’d ever been given, and that wasn’t including the time Rafe must have put into making it. It was simple compared to some of the pieces Rafe produced, but it was perfect.

  Calvin slid the ring over his claw-tipped finger. There had been no doubt that it would fit. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Like you.” Rafe tipped Calvin’s chin and kissed him. “Are you sure you won’t come tomorrow?”

  “I’m not putting on a collar.” But he’d seen Rafe making the delicate chains and tags for those who couldn’t afford gold—they were usually the ones who collared their lover out of duty to the law, not because they wanted to.

  Rafe bit his lip. He’d promised never… but what pressure was his family putting on him? “Just for dinner. It would calm things.”

  Calvin shook his head. “Not even for the meal. I don’t want to be kept.”

  “But you are.”

  The knot twisted. He needed to earn his own coin and no
t live off Rafe. Short of working down at the docks for a pittance, there was little anyone would hire him for. He didn’t have the heart to fight and had never held a sword in his life. That left stealing.

  Calvin shook his head. “I won’t walk around like that.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “For you maybe. ‘Oh, look at me, a princeling with my pet.’ It’s a status symbol.”

  Rafe’s face hardened. “And living a comfortable life where everything is provided is so hard. It offends you so greatly you keep coming back for more.”

  “At least I am free to make that choice.” He kept his voice carefully level.

  “I’m not forcing you to stay. Even the collared are free to break the chain and leave.”

  He stared at his lover. He should have known it was only a matter of time until Rafe did everything but ask outright. He was an elf, and promises were mutable things.

  “It would be safer for both of us,” Rafe said.

  He nodded, hating that Rafe spoke the truth and knowing his heart was already collared.

  THE MOON was well risen when Calvin got out of bed. There’d been a gap between them that could’ve been bridged had one offered their hand or made the effort to lean over and give a kiss to heal the damage the words had caused. Neither of them had. Calvin dragged on clothes but kept his boots in his hand.

  “Where are you going?” Rafe sat up, his moonlight hair standing on end and his eyes dark pools of ink.

  “Out.” He put his boots on. There was no longer any point in creeping.

  “We agreed you’d stop.”

  “You said I’d stop. I nodded.” He’d tried to stop, but he didn’t want Rafe keeping him. He needed his own coin. If not for the threats to Rafe, this was no different to any other job.

  “You stole my present, didn’t you?”

  Calvin clamped his teeth together, refusing to answer. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “You don’t have to do this. Whatever you need—”