The Shift of the Tide

by Jeffe Kennedy

  His mouth quirked without humor, the soft torchlight casting his face with oblique shadows, the deep lines catching them to runnel down his face like water down bark. “I did leave. And now I have returned. The fact that you didn’t mark my absence is something that even a stubborn shapeshifter should recognize as a problem. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, except that you said you’re hungry and you’re clearly exhausted. So drink this or I’ll sit on you and pour it down your throat.”

  “And here I’d thought of you as a man of few words.”

  “Depends on the need.” He held my gaze, pushing the tall mug at me.

  Because it smelled enticingly good—and made my stomach lunge with all the greed of a starving predator—I took it and drank. A hearty broth, well salted and full of the dense strength of marrow, slid into my empty gut. I eyed Marskal over the rim, watching him for sudden movements.

  He chuckled, relaxing his crouch to sit back in the sand. “You look like the owl still, your eyes huge and catching the light.”

  Finished with the broth, I set the mug aside. “Were you so close, to note the appearance of the owl’s eyes?”

  “No.” He reached into a basket such as those the Nahanauns used to gather fruit and pulled out a cloth, laying it on the sand, then setting items on it. A tall flask of water and another of wine. A packet of roast meat. Several pieces of fruit. Bread, butter, and honey.

  Because the owl lingered, though only in memory, I hoped, I took a piece of meat, doing my best not to tear into it. My body hummed, singing a song of need and gratitude, the nourishment following the broth into my blood and weeping muscles.

  Marskal watched me without comment, though I likely looked like a wild thing, giving up on decorum, heavily buttering a slice of bread—it was warm and fresh and fragrant, the butter soft, salty, and smelling sweetly of green grass and sunshine, the honey bright with tropical nectar—and devouring that also. I alternated voracious bites of meat with that. When I’d finished it, I ate the fruit he’d brought, then drank the wine and water.

  At last it felt as if I could draw a measured breath, then another. And I stopped licking my fingers clean, using the cloth to dry them. Belatedly I realized I hadn’t offered Marskal any of it, not even a taste of the wine. Just because you can be an animal doesn’t mean you are one. My mother would have been disappointed in me.

  “My apologies,” I said.

  “For what?” Marskal rummaged in the basket. “I can get more food, if you like. I’m afraid I didn’t bring enough to sate you.”

  “No need. I’m fine for now. I apologize for my rudeness.”

  He shrugged that off, shaking the sand out of the cloth. “You’re far from the first royal to snap at me.”

  “I told you I’m not royal. And I meant for my greed, for not offering to share.”

  “I already ate. This was for you. Though I feel sure I’ve never seen a woman eat so much at one sitting. I don’t know how you can be so slight, eating as you do.”

  “Shapeshifting burns a great deal of energy.” I paused. It wasn’t a large admission. Hardly a useful piece of information. But that I’d admitted as much went against long habit of not discussing the details of being a shapeshifter. Anything could be a weapon in the hands of the enemy. Marskal might not be the actual enemy, but he clearly harbored suspicions and I had no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to use any information against me, should things come to that. Ursula owned his loyalty, no question. If all went well, I wouldn’t be arrayed against her, but my own loyalty to the Tala and Annfwn came first.

  “You’ve shapeshifted before without suffering such profound effects,” Marskal noted, torchlight glimmering a moment in his eyes as he studied me. “What happened out there?”

  A dragon spoke in my mind, tested my control, and nearly broke me. I shook my head, the heaviness of my hair moving over my shoulders. “Nothing noteworthy. I got a … cramp.”

  He made a noncommittal sound as he packed the flasks back into the basket.

  “Thank you for the food,” I said. It sounded awkward, coming so late. You’re far from the first royal to snap at me.

  “Doing my job.”

  “Your job?”

  “Her Majesty,” he said, “has assigned me to guard you, to accompany you on your journeys, whatever they may lead you, and to assure that no harm comes to you.”

  Of course she had, but what about the spying? “When did she task you thusly?”

  “After Jepp’s message arrived.”

  “Then you are absolved of duty for the time being,” I told him, “as I will not yet be going to see Jepp.”

  He stood, tucking the basket under one arm and holding out a hand to help me up. “Are you able to climb the steps now?”

  “Of course.” I hoped.

  “If you say so.”

  We gazed at each other a moment, engaged in a silent battle of wills I didn’t quite know how I’d gotten involved in. He still held out a hand. I still ignored it.

  “I’ll escort you inside then,” he finally said. “We sail early. You need rest.”

  Such a mossback, to think that rest could only be had indoors. But that reminded me that I had a change of plans to communicate, my responsibilities not yet discharged. So I took his hand, using his strength to pull myself to my feet, my body responding reasonably well, though I might not have been so graceful without the help. It brought us too close, certainly for my peace of mind, so I hastened to drop his hand, stepping back again.

  “We don’t sail early,” I informed him.

  He cocked his head. “Oh?”

  “I’m sure Ursula will inform you of what you need to know.” I moved past him, but he edged into my path. Not blatantly blocking me, but enough that I’d have to make an exaggerated effort to go around him. It brought us close again, his face too near mine. I borrowed his trick, gazing off over his shoulder, though no endless horizon engaged my eye. Instead I looked at the palace, still not wanting to be within even its open walls. I could always come back outside after I talked to Ursula. Did, most nights, unless I had obligations.

  “I’ll be ready to accompany you in the morning, whatever your plans,” Marskal said.

  “Do as you like, though I doubt you’ll be needed before midday at the earliest.”

  “What changed that we’re not leaving?”

  I turned my head to look him in the eye. “I thought good soldiers take orders and don’t question them.”

  “Keeping me ignorant serves no one well. And I will do my job.” The warmth of his breath tickled my cheek. “We are not enemies, Lady Zynda.”

  “Nor are we allies. Nor are you my keeper. I come and go as I please, and not even Ursula may command me.”

  “What about your king and queen—don’t you bow to them?”

  “It depends. The Tala are different.”

  “This has not escaped my notice,” he muttered, stepping out of my way.

  At least he acknowledged the fact. I continued up the steps, glad for the easy response of my legs now. How disconcerting that Marskal had seen through me so easily, had discerned my earlier weakness. Salena would have done better. I needed to do better, if I was to withstand Kiraka’s tests and convince her to teach me Final Form.

  At the moment, doing so seemed as insurmountable as the long flight of steps had before I rested and ate. A good analogy, though—a bit of rest, nourishing food, the benevolence of Moranu’s gifts, and I was ascending with vigor. Perhaps my eventual task would fall out the same.

  “You only wish, little changeling.”

  Kiraka’s dry warning sifted through my consciousness, nearly as startling as before. I “heard” it differently now, my human brain processing it as more alien, oddly enough, but also without as much of the instinctive need to hide from a greater predator.

  Still, something in me quailed, and I doubted I’d sleep quietly with her slinking about in my mind.

  ~ 4 ~

  The next morning, Dafne and I met in
the outer courtyard to venture up the volcano for my interview with the dragon. To my surprise, Ursula had deferred to the change of plans without protest, though she’d had a thoughtful look. She only commented that Jepp knew how to reach us if urgent became emergency, and that one didn’t antagonize a dragon lightly. I felt a bit of guilt that she assumed I’d be asking about using the map-sticks to find allies or assistance in N’Andana. I could ask about that, too, while still pursuing my primary aim.

  I had told Ursula about the strange encounter with the shark, and she’d listened, asking me a few questions. It clearly troubled her, but she had no more idea what to think about it than I did. Even if I did go see what Jepp had to show me right away, that wouldn’t necessarily give us any more answers.

  Dafne gave me a radiant smile as I approached. She did everything with that radiance these days, the glow of pregnancy and the happiness of love giving her a beauty that lightened my mood, despite my misgivings. No, I should be honest in the privacy of my own mind, which was no longer private. Despite the fear of failure that gave a brittle feel to my bones, I needed to face those emotions, not deny them.

  Change was coming and a shapeshifter should never fear change.

  “So I’m to bring you for a conversation with Kiraka?” Dafne said, as if we were going on a stroll along a beach. “That’s a first. She hasn’t wanted to talk to anyone else before.”

  “Apparently so.” I shrugged as if it weren’t a matter of critical importance. Tropical flowers glowed in the morning light, no longer dewy. Dafne had slept long. Mindful of both Kiraka’s directive and her husband Nakoa’s glowering and protective presence, I’d waited her out.

  Even Ursula had displayed unusual patience. Of course, she’d worked off her steam in the usual way, training with Harlan and the other Hawks she’d brought with her. At least that had occupied Marskal as well. Normally I would have engaged in my own style of morning exercise, which on Nahanau meant shifting to an aquatic form to enjoy the tropical waters while I could.

  For today, however, I’d thought it wiser to conserve my shifting strength. Moranu knew what Kiraka’s further tests would involve. Hopefully I’d do better, now that I’d rested and eaten heartily.

  “I’m ready to go.” Dafne indicated her satchel of scribing materials, and a basket of food and drink like the one Marskal had brought me the night before. Perhaps the palace kept a store of them on hand, for picnicking queens and exhausted shapeshifters.

  “Shall we walk?” I asked, glancing dubiously at her bare feet, remembering how she’d once walked them raw enough to lay her up for days. “Or, would you prefer if I—”

  I broke off as Ursula strode out, Marskal at her left flank, a step behind as if he expected to guard her from attack. His sharp brown gaze rested on me, assessing. He moved with unusual grace for a mossback, born of warrior training, lithe and athletic. Even in rest, those deep lines bracketed his mouth, part of the weathered complexion of a mossback who’d spent most of his life outdoors, and in often harsh conditions. Mossbacks never renewed their skin, and so it showed the passage of trial and time. Why those lines suddenly attracted me, why I wanted to run my lips along them, I didn’t know. Irritated, I pulled out the jeweled pin I’d tucked in my sleeve and wound up my hair, the knot keeping it out of my face.

  “I promised King Nakoa you’d carry Dafne as you did before, if that’s not a problem,” Ursula said, having caught the tail of my question.

  I nodded, though the mountain pony form would prevent me from trying to extract information from Dafne about Kiraka along the way. Perhaps just as well. The dragon would tell me what she wished me to know. I waited for her dry mental commentary on that thought, but she remained silent, as she had since her parting challenge the night before.

  “And Marskal will go with you, in case of problems,” she added, gesturing him forward.

  “He wasn’t invited,” I said, not mincing the words. The man’s presence irritated me, making me feel like that dual-natured mermaid, both wanting and unable to have.

  Ursula raised her brows at me, her lean face chilling slightly at being thwarted. In those moments, she reminded me keenly of Salena, how my aunt’s storm-gray eyes would go thunderous and the air crackle about her with magic. Ursula was no sorceress, but she had plenty of latent shapeshifter in her, and of the alpha female variety, just like her mother. I didn’t tuck my metaphorical tail between my legs, but the wolf in me felt the urge.

  “It’s true that he can’t come with us,” Dafne surprised me by saying. “Kiraka is most particular about who meets with her. Asking to see Zynda is a first, though I’m surprised she hadn’t wanted to talk to her by now, seeing as how the Tala are descended from the N’andanans.”

  Marskal’s expression didn’t change, but I felt his attention sharpen, his quiet brown eyes studying me.

  “I don’t like you two going unguarded.” Ursula had her jaw set, which made me think of Kiraka’s taunt that she could try her sword against the dragon.

  Dafne pursed her lips, acting puzzled. “I go by myself all the time, Your Majesty.”

  Ursula’s gaze flashed steel. “Oh, stop that. I know full well what you’re about when you trot out the titles, Queen Dafne Nakoa KauPo, and I am not distracted. If Jepp’s warning proves true and Deyrr has found a way through the barrier, no one is safe from harm. Zynda, I don’t have to remind you of this after your odd encounter yesterday. You’ll need your full attention on Kiraka, not worrying about strange animals that taste of Deyrr coming at your back.”

  Dafne flicked a glance at me, looking thoughtful. Of course Ursula would have filled her in. “So noted. But I cannot vouch for Kiraka’s tolerance.”

  I opened my mouth to add to the argument when Kiraka’s voice slid into my head.

  “The warrior may attend, as long as he watches from a respectful distance. He might come in useful. You never know. I might need a snack.” Dry amusement threaded through her mental voice, giving me a bad feeling.

  From the look on Dafne’s face, the dragon had spoken to us both at once. Nice trick, that. As was her apparent ability to eavesdrop at will. Dafne relayed Kiraka’s permission, leaving out the bit about the snack—though maybe she’d added that only to me—and Ursula nodded crisply, mollified. “Convey my thanks to the dragon,” she said.

  Dafne got a peculiar expression, but only inclined her head, not passing along the dragon’s tart reply that our queen’s thanks were unnecessary and irrelevant. “But, seriously, my feet are tough now.” She lifted a foot, canting it over her knee to show me with some pride. “I can walk.”

  Ursula set her jaw, and I intervened, lest we be arguing all day. “Might as well take advantage of my presence,” I said, and shifted into pony form. Another advantage of being an animal: mossbacks don’t argue with you, because they tend to forget you can still understand them just fine, even if you can’t talk back. Well, I can understand them. And a few other purebloods can, depending on the form they take. Some retain just enough wit to remember they have a different Birth Form and to revert to it before it’s too late.

  Becoming the pony was my first shift of the new day, and the first since I’d nearly bobbled the owl form. To my relieved delight, it went cleanly, with no shadows of other animal layers. It felt good and strong to be the sturdy horse. Four solid legs upon the earth. I tossed my mane and bit Dafne’s coppery skirt, tugging at it, and she laughed, scratching me between the ears.

  “Who’s a pretty pony?” she teased, mischievous and delighted.

  “Allow me, Queen Dafne Nakoa KauPo,” Marskal said, going to one knee and cupping his hands for her foot. Showy and over the top. I bobbed my head in the pony version of an eye roll. Something he seemed to understand because he narrowed his eyes at me.

  “You can call me Dafne, you know.” She stepped into his hand and swung a leg over my back, then settled the satchels so they draped evenly behind her. “Is that good, Zynda?”

  I nickered an affirmative, adjusting
to her weight more than to the inert bags. Carrying inanimate things rarely felt odd in animal form, because I was accustomed to doing so as a human. Very few of my forms, however, had the size or conformation that allowed for a rider. Jepp had ridden my back twice while I was a mermaid, but with her athletic ability—and despite her non-swimmer’s aversion to water—she’d adjusted to my movements with an ease that made her a joy to carry. Dafne wasn’t as bad as some, and she’d ridden horses on long journeys, but riding without a saddle or reins took adjusting.

  Also, the feel of her sun-warmed skin against my back, the clasp of her legs—something about the contact reminded me of leaning against Marskal the night before. Perhaps the nearing possibility of taking Final Form had me feeling the imminent loss of human touch. Too late to mourn that.

  Ursula sent us off, admirably refraining from reiterating any warnings, and I set a brisk pace, my hooves clattering on the marble esplanade. Hitting the dirt of the path felt much nicer. It would be lovely to trot to work off these nerves, or even canter or full-out gallop up the winding trail draped with paniculate blossoms in pastel shades. But, much as I might enjoy demonstrating just how not-weak I was to Marskal, it wouldn’t be fair to tax his human form that way—or to make Dafne uncomfortable. My brisk walk should be a slow jog for him—which proved to be the case—so good enough.

  “Have you been up the volcano before?” Dafne asked Marskal.

  “No, Queen Dafne Nakoa KauPo.” He didn’t sound at all out of breath. I could likely go faster. Even a smooth trot would jostle my pregnant rider, however.

  “I told you.” She sounded crisply annoyed. “Plain Dafne is fine.”

  I snorted for our similarity there.

  Marskal shook his head. “It wouldn’t be appropriate, Your Highness.”

  “You called me Dafne just fine on that hard journey from Windroven,” she reminded him. “In fact, I recall you threatening to leave me behind if I didn’t get my lazy ass up and—”