Silver and Solstice

by TJ Nichols

  “Don’t. I have to do this.” If he didn’t, something horrible would happen to Rafe and it would be his fault. Rafe’s father would blame Calvin, and he’d get far worse than the shifting pens on public display.

  “Cal….” Rafe got out of bed, all liquid grace and muscle.

  Calvin’s resolve to go weakened, but the knot in his stomach wouldn’t let him breathe. When Rafe reached for him, he stepped back in case he accidentally fell into bed and forgot about the threats.

  Rafe gasped as if Calvin had slapped him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have to do this. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I don’t.” He crossed his arms, and it was easy to remember he was one of the many princelings destined to have no power beyond their own homes. “But you could explain.”

  “I’m going thieving. Happy?”

  “No. Are you? Is this life so bad that you would toss it away?”

  Calvin drew in a breath. He didn’t want to throw any of this away, but he didn’t know how to keep it either. He’d grown up with nothing, so he was used to things sliding through his claws. He was amazed what he had with Rafe had lasted as long as it had. He exhaled, the urge to confess all to Rafe on the tip of his tongue. Rafe would tell him not to worry, that no one would hurt him. If he did go to his father, his father would probably tell him to kick out the cat, problem solved.

  He lowered his gaze. “I don’t want to. I have to. I’ll be back before morning.”

  Rafe shook his head. “I can’t be up all night worrying about you. And I don’t want the city guards banging on my door searching for whatever it is you’ve taken.”

  That had only happened once, and he hadn’t stolen anything—that time. “I won’t bring it here. I’m not stupid.” But he clearly wasn’t that bright either. “I have to go.”

  Rafe studied the floor. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “If you go, don’t come back.”

  Calvin choked on the knot. It wasn’t like he had much to take, but he didn’t want to leave. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “I mean it this time.”

  Calvin strode over. He kissed Rafe, but Rafe’s lips remained still as though cast from silver.

  Rafe stepped back. “We’re done if you do this. I have a reputation.”

  “And I’ve been ruining it since the day you invited me in. Did you hope to collar me even then?” Breaking the rules had been part of the fun. Leaping down the stairs and prowling through the house and workshop to catch Rafe. Rafe scratching behind his ears. Shifting back to human and making love where they lay. It had been the perfect life.

  “I never wanted to collar you.”

  Calvin almost believed him. “Except for when your parents are watching.”

  “The king attends dinner. I have to play my part. And I have to be there.”

  “I don’t belong at that table. I’m not husband or craftsman material. I’m a crested cat, good for manual labor or petting and nothing in between.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. If he’d been human or elf, there wouldn’t have been an issue, but because he could shift between forms, he was less. Part beast. A danger to society. He knew all the taunts and slurs.

  “And yet you work in my smith and shop and you sleep in my bed. You can be something other than a thief.”

  “I prowl your house and I’m a danger to your reputation.” He pulled the ring off and held it out to Rafe. “You deserve better.”

  “Keep it. It was a gift.”

  He didn’t want the ring. He wanted Rafe. He licked his lip, tasting him on his skin. They’d be fine come dawn. He’d slink back in and they’d wake up together and with the danger behind them. He’d be able to tell the truth in daylight. He turned and walked out of the bedroom.

  Rafe followed to the landing. “I mean it, Calvin. If you go out, we’re done. I don’t care what everyone else thinks of us, but this has to stop.”

  Calvin glanced up at the beautiful elf who’d given him the best ten months of his life. He slipped the ring back on, a cold reminder of why he was doing this, tonight of all nights. “I’m doing it for you.”

  Chapter 2

  CALVIN STALKED out of the house. The closing of the door echoed in his skull, louder than his footsteps on the cobbles. His breathing became tight as the knot in his stomach grew heavier. It was solstice eve and the universe was in flux. Most people wanted to start the year with love and luck.

  Rafe had kicked him out.

  No… he’d kicked himself out. He’d walked out of a perfectly good house and a perfectly good relationship all because he had to do this job. If the woman hadn’t threatened Rafe, he would’ve said no, wouldn’t he?

  He glanced over his shoulder. Then turned. The temptation to go back and tell Rafe everything warred with the need to protect him. Was it too late to go home?

  Rafe appeared in the bedroom window, a pale figure framed by dark. For a moment Calvin was sure Rafe could see him and he couldn’t move. He wanted Rafe to open the window and say something to fix this mess. He waited.

  And waited.

  Something or someone moved in the street. Calvin turned away and slunk deeper into the shadows, winding his way toward the river. If he turned right and kept walking, he’d eventually reach the docks. To his left was the temple where the rich liked to pay their way into the gods’ favor. While he’d never steal from a temple—he didn’t want the gods to turn their gaze on him—the people attending were fair game. Though in truth, he’d never done anything so audacious in this city. He’d leave after this. Start over and do it right with no more stealing.

  Sometimes he told Rafe he was going home for a few days, a simple lie because he needed to go to another city to help a friend or acquaintance. The last time he hadn’t been able to bear the disappointment in Rafe’s eyes and truth had died between them.

  Above him on the hill, the castle loomed, casting a shadow over this part of the city. When he’d first arrived, he’d wondered at the building, the grandness and the wealth on display. That was before he’d discovered the poverty living next door.

  He’d seen the collared—something he’d only ever heard of in hushed tones and spoken about with great pity in the town he’d grown up in. The city was no place for a cat.

  He needed to be able to shift and roam freely.

  As he walked, he built up a list of reasons he didn’t belong.

  There was only one reason he should stay: Rafe.

  He tried to ignore the ache in his chest, knowing it would ease if he turned around and walked back home. But he didn’t want Rafe dragged into his world of darkness and daggers, where thieves took what they needed and scurried away like beetles before the guards could attend.

  Maybe the woman and her friends would only rough Rafe up and ransom him. Rafe’s father would pay. But there was no way that ended well for him. Rafe wouldn’t just be disappointed; he’d be disgusted and horrified. At least this way, he didn’t have to see the revulsion in Rafe’s eyes.

  Crouched in the shadow of one of the great river oaks, Calvin waited for the others to arrive. If no one else showed, he’d leave. No harm done… maybe he’d skulk back and beg his way into bed… or maybe he’d keep walking.

  If solstice eve was meant to be about reflection and the year gone by, and solstice itself about new starts, he wasn’t doing too badly. He’d definitely be experiencing a new start tomorrow. But the ring on his finger gleamed in the moonlight, and he wanted nothing more than to go back and say he’d changed his mind and done the wrong thing, again, and that he was trying to behave but it wasn’t easy to be dependent. Kept.

  And if Rafe slammed the door in his face, glad to finally be rid of the troublesome cat?

  Calvin blinked. He couldn’t go back. It was better this way. He was free. So why was his stomach knotted and his heart twisted? He shouldn’t be there. He should be in bed, starting the new year with love and a little lust.

  If the thieves were willing to make threats,
they weren’t simply thieves and he didn’t run in those circles. He should go to the city guard and tell them what was going on, and if they arrested him for prowling after cat curfew and locked him in a pen, then he’d serve his time, but at least he’d have done the right thing. He stood, decision made.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” The woman from the market and two men hunkered down in the shadows.

  “Just stretching my legs.” The lie rolled off his tongue.

  “I wouldn’t be getting cold feet, Pet. My friend is watching the house, and it would be a pity if my friend were to pay a visit to the very pretty princeling of yours.”

  “Leave him alone. This has nothing to do with him, and if I hear you’ve been bothering him, I will hunt you and kill you. Not all the stories are myth.” He bared his pointed teeth and flexed his claws.

  The elvish man flinched. But the human man and woman remained calm as if they’d seen it all before. Maybe they hung out at the pens to watch as the uncollared crested cats shifted forms. It was cheap entertainment for the masses who couldn’t afford a place at a hanging.

  He’d never gone to either, as they both hit a bit close to home.

  The woman smiled at him. “You’re a violent one, aren’t you?”

  “No.” He’d never been violent. If he was inclined that way, he’d have signed up to be a soldier the way so many cats did. Being a soldier would at least give him regular pay and a place to sleep, but he wasn’t that smart. “You’re the one who threatened him.” If he were collared, he’d have the right to defend Rafe. “What’s the plan? What’s the split?”

  “A fifth each. We’ll wait for the last of them to leave, then pick them off from the back.”

  “They’ll have given most of it to the priestesses,” Calvin said. “This is a bad target.”

  “They’ll be wearing enough to make it worthwhile,” the man behind him said.

  Calvin shook his head. “This isn’t well planned. Who takes the loot? Who stores it for divvying up? Where do we meet up if separated?”

  “You don’t need those details,” she said. “You just need to do as you’re told.”

  Calvin hissed. “This isn’t how I work.”

  “It is now if you ever want to see your princeling alive again.”

  That was enough to shut Calvin up. He listened as they discussed ways to carry out the theft. The elf would be the runner, taking off with the gear to hide it. The two humans would stop the line while Calvin used his light fingers to do the work—this was what he was known for, but it was also the riskiest part of the job. He was the one who’d have his hands in pockets before passing the loot to the elf. It was then the elf who’d wear the burden. The two humans were little more than thugs to scare the unlucky target. The fifth member of the team was watching Rafe’s house.

  As the first of the templegoers started to filter past in their finery, they fell silent. The wealthiest, merchants and the like, were carried in litters, the velvet curtains drawn tight against the cold.

  Others rode horses decked out in more wealth than most people saw in a year. These were the kinds of people Calvin took from. Those who wouldn’t notice if a ruby became lost. His heartbeat quickened as anticipation built and apprehension melted away. His focus narrowed to what needed to be done.

  The elf disappeared.

  Finally the worshippers on foot wandered past, their spirits high, and their hands heavy with rings and their shoes weighed down with gold and silver. Rafe would’ve made some of those buckles and ornamentations.

  For a moment Calvin couldn’t breathe as the knife in his heart twisted. He had to leave or this pack of rogues would forever have him hog-tied by the love he had for Rafe.

  An owl hooted and the two humans leaped onto the road in front of a small group. They begged for alms. The cloaked figures argued before one reached for his coin purse with an admonishment about it being solstice and giving would bestow more wealth on them.

  Calvin sighed and slunk toward the worshippers. He relieved a man of his coin purse, then a woman of her bracelet because they were so busy with the two begging for alms. He usually enjoyed this part, the way the rich didn’t even notice. But tonight he’d much rather be in bed with Rafe. It should’ve been their first solstice together.

  His ears twitched, but before he could register what he’d heard, weapons had been drawn. The two humans he’d been working with held sharp short swords. The elf he’d been about to rob turned and lifted a club.

  Fear cut through him as the starlight revealed familiar features. Rafe’s father.

  Calvin lifted his arm too late to block the strike. The humans he’d been working with took him down. He struggled as he hit the ground. The air left his lungs as his back hit the tree roots. He kicked out, but there were too many of them. He lashed out with his claws, catching one of them on the face. Then the club struck his temple. The stars lurched and everything became velvet pain.

  RAFE GRIPPED the windowsill, his knuckles white, long after Calvin had walked away, willing him to return. He’d pushed too hard. But every time Calvin went to see his family, Rafe worried he’d never come back. Now he wouldn’t.

  Two of the city guard strolled past. Rafe stepped back so he couldn’t be seen from the street. The guards paused in front of the house, then took up a post opposite in the shadows where Calvin had stood not long ago.

  While he didn’t put much weight in Calvin’s odd feelings, he did notice when the city guard started behaving strangely. And watching his home was most definitely strange. He pulled on clothes and boots and a cloak to ward off the chill, then paused, his hand on the front door. How would they react if he stepped out? He wasn’t subject to any curfew, though Calvin was.

  Were they watching him, or waiting for Calvin to return?

  His throat tightened and he cursed himself for not keeping his lover busier in bed.

  I’m doing it for you. Calvin’s words echoed in the empty house.

  They weren’t skint. He made enough for them both to live comfortably, though not enough to live like a princeling, which was perfectly fine with him. A title came with far too many conditions, but by fortune of being the youngest, he’d escaped with few responsibilities. Attend this or be seen at that. Do a week’s worth of free labor at the temple or hospital or wherever they wanted him to go that year, and that was all he had to do. Most people forgot he was more than the silversmith.

  Was what he had not enough? He’d offered Calvin everything and still he hungered for something Rafe couldn’t provide. He didn’t know what else he could give Calvin. What was Calvin trying to give him?

  An expensive stolen jewel he didn’t need?

  Rafe lit the lantern and checked that all the doors and windows were locked in the workshop. Metal glinted all around him. Commissions, items for the market, and bigger pieces he put in the front of the shop.

  No one had tried to rob him since Calvin had moved in. There really was no better protection than having a cat in the house—their fierce reputation was all that was needed. While at the start it had been about security and having someone help, their relationship had grown swiftly and with no effort until he’d thought he’d found someone to spend his life with.

  He didn’t want his father to be right, that a thief was always a thief.

  Satisfied he wouldn’t get robbed while he was out, Rafe opened the front door and stepped into the moonlight. The guards immediately straightened and walked toward him. His heart sank, but he strolled as though heading out for a night of fun and merriment—there were often parties after the obligatory visit to the temple because people wanted to celebrate the turning of the year with friends.

  He’d done that enough times to know turning up to a family dinner with a cracking hangover was not a smart move. Family politics was best handled sober—the drinking came after.

  The guards stepped in front of him and glanced at each other before the shorter one spoke. “We were told to keep an eye on you, Mas
ter. Seems there’s some kind of trouble.”

  “A threat to your person, Master,” the other added.

  Rafe did his best not to grit his teeth at the use of his title. “And what does this threat entail?”

  “Can’t say, Master. But we have to keep you home and safe.”

  Rafe narrowed his eyes. Something was definitely afoot, and if the city guard was involved, his father was at the center. While he wanted to believe his father was acting honestly, his father only acted in Rafe’s best interests when those interests also aligned with family interests.

  Rafe doubted that was the case tonight. What was Calvin doing and why were the city guard outside his house? Were they protecting him or keeping him from intervening?

  He drew in a breath, considered pushing for more, but thought better of it. They didn’t have the answers he needed, so he complied with their order to return home. Once inside he changed into dark clothes, then slipped out the back, through the garden and into the refuse-lined laneway. He paused, searching the shadows for more guards but saw none. He picked his way through the lane and then the backstreets.

  Did he want to start the year digging Calvin out of trouble?

  No, he wanted to start the year with Calvin.

  CALVIN DIDN’T want to open his eyes. He knew where he was without needing to look. The scent of old fear and pain and blood. Of cats and elves. Someone hit him and pain rippled over his skin and rattled his bones. That’s why he was awake. The ruff down his back spiked up on end, and his claws extended in reflex, but he hurt too much to fight back.

  Had they dragged him up the hill behind a cart?

  Another strike was delivered to his ribs as he lay pathetically on the floor. He mewled, wanting it to stop. He must have shifted to try to protect himself—he hated accidental shifting—and now the city guards had him for stealing and shifting outside of the designated area.

  It had been a setup from the first word. Rafe had never been in any danger.