The Shift of the Tide

by Jeffe Kennedy

  I wanted to laugh, but she might take that wrong, so I kept it to a smile. “Would you like a suggestion?”

  “Oh, yes, please!”

  “Follow this road another loop, then keep going south on the side path. The orchards are there. That might feel more familiar—though I’m sure the trees and fruits are very different.”

  “How did you know my family estates had orchards?”

  Because Jepp told me, but it didn’t seem polite to mention we’d discussed her, so I ducked answering. “Feel free to pick any fruit that appeals to you. No one will mind. None of the orchard keepers speak Common Tongue, I’m sure, but they’ll know you’re a visitor and be welcoming.”

  She ruefully brought her waist-length braid over her shoulder, yanking on it. “I stand out, I know. I keep thinking I could find a dye and darken it.”

  “Oh, don’t do that!” I ran a finger along the interwoven coils. Like silk, and so much of it, the braid as thick as my wrist. “It makes you exceptional, yes, in an interesting way.”

  She frowned. “I’d rather not draw attention. There’s this one man. Tala. And he’s very persistent.”

  “Zyr?”

  Astonished chagrin flooded her delicate face with more color. “I’m sorry! You know him.”

  “My brother,” I admitted. “He spoke of you. He’s quite smitten.”

  “Oh no!” She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been so kind and I didn’t mean to give offense. I’m so—”

  “Karyn.” I said it crisply. Gentle wasn’t working with her. “You gave no offense. My brother is persistent. He’s also an ass, but he’s not a brute. If you don’t want him to pursue you, tell him so in no uncertain terms.”

  “I can’t do that.” She sounded aghast, all that color fled, leaving her pale.

  “You can. The only one getting in your way is you. You’re not in Dasnaria any longer, so stop apologizing for yourself and start doing what you want to do.”

  She gaped at me and I realized I’d forgotten to be encouraging when I abandoned gentle. Apparently Marskal’s forte wasn’t mine. No big surprise there. Just then the page called my name, and I was out of time to find words to reassure her.

  “I have to go and meet with the king and queen, but we can talk later, if you like.”

  “Oh no!” Her face flooded with color again. It must be dizzying to feel so much. “I’m so sorry I kept you.”

  “You didn’t—but you did just apologize again.”

  “I’m sor—you’re right, Lady Zynda.” She curtseyed. “I’ll attempt to do better.”

  “Zynda!” One of the councilwomen spotted me as she walked past. “They’re waiting for you.”

  “I must go,” I said, though Karyn had caught the import of the words, if not the content, already curtseying, offering additional apologies, then fleeing, spots of color high on her fair cheeks.

  The councilwoman stared after her, then shook her head sadly. “It’s terrible what happens to these younglings who are mistreated. They escape one prison and, terrified of being free, they construct another of their own making, telling themselves they’re safe, when in truth they’re only more thoroughly trapped.”

  I hastened into the council rooms, my mind whirling with the councilwoman’s words. Though she hadn’t meant them for me, they hit some bruised part of myself, making it throb. Setting it aside, I slipped into the otherwise empty rooms, finding the king and queen deep in conversation, foreheads nearly touching. King Rayfe had a long lock of Queen Andromeda’s hair looped around his hand, reminding me of Marskal. An obsession not limited to mossback men, perhaps.

  Hearing me, they looked up and smiled in welcome. They gestured me to a set of chairs on a side balcony shrouded with flowering vines. Open to the air and yet private. Playing monkey-see, monkey-do with Marskal’s approach to things, yet again, hopefully with better success this time, I reported the way he would, laying out the situation and making my request. But when I pulled the chain holding the Star over my head, Queen Andromeda received it with a wince.

  She exchanged a long, grave look with King Rayfe, then turned back to me, her gray eyes stormy. “First, let me offer my empathy with your troubles,” she said softly. Her Tala remained oddly accented, but she’d gained much fluency during her time in Annfwn. “As you know, I never shapeshifted until I married Rayfe.” She touched his hand and heat palpably flowed between them. “And then not until I struggled with it. I sometimes think I never would have found the key to that particular lock if my mother hadn’t left me a … token, to help me along.”

  “You would have,” King Rayfe said, entirely confident. He lifted her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm. “You are Salena’s daughter, you have the mark, and there is nothing you cannot do.”

  She rolled her eyes, in a very mossback way, and it made me smile to see it. “He’s impossible,” she whispered loudly to me, as if he couldn’t hear. Then she turned solemn, the sense of storm gathering around her. Unlike Shaman’s, hers felt like the sort that brings a soaking rain, gathering to linger for days. “However, I cannot do as you ask. We’ve already discussed it, as Essla brought this up, too. I cannot go to the Heart. Not now.”

  I felt my jaw slacken with the drop of my heart and hopes. “Cannot?” I echoed.

  She shook her head and Rayfe held her hand. “I can’t.” She arched her brows in emphasis. Then added. “As I came to it late in life, the healers have strongly suggested that I avoid shifting.”

  “Not avoid,” Rayfe corrected, completely intransigent. “Do. Not. Attempt. To. Shift.”

  She started to roll her eyes again, stopping when he squeezed her hand and stared her down. “I’m not going to attempt it. I promised, didn’t I? You don’t have to go all alpha male about it.”

  “I’m King of the Tala,” he reminded her implacably, but a smile ghosted over his mouth.

  “Who could forget?” she muttered.

  I understood then, the byplay about climbing the ladder onto the ship, and what they couldn’t—rather, wouldn’t—give voice to. She must be with child, and far enough along for hope to begin to grow. Seeing my dawning understanding, she dipped her chin, a slight acknowledgement that spoke volumes.

  “Because I came to shifting late, they think it’s best if—”

  “Have determined absolutely that,” King Rayfe corrected.

  “My love,” she said in a sweet voice. “If you interrupt or correct me one more time, I’m moving up the coast for the duration, like all the other Tala women do.”

  His jaw tightened, deep blue eyes flashing. “I would find you and drag you back.”

  “You could try,” she promised airily, but the sense of impending storm thickened. She returned her focus to me. “It will be months before I can go to the Heart. That is unless—”

  “Don’t speak it,” King Rayfe and I said at the same time, making her look between us.

  “I’d never have guessed the Tala are so superstitious,” she commented, making him glower at her, far from amused.

  “It’s less superstition than living in the thick of magic all our lives,” I supplied. “You learn to be careful of your thoughts and expectations because they have a tendency to get picked up by the magic.”

  Her face cleared, eyes thoughtful. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. Thank you for that clear explanation.”

  “I explained it,” King Rayfe ground out and she cast a frustrated look at him. I was only happy that I’d recently practiced by explaining to Marskal. Perhaps trusting, and not keeping every bit of Tala lore secret, got easier with practice. Most everything did.

  “You only think you explain things.” She held up a hand, stopping him as she’d stopped me. “At any rate, Essla is unhappy with me, too, as she’d hoped I’d strengthen the barrier at the point of incursion. Arguably, the fate of so many is more important than this one.” She rested a hand on her belly, ignoring our wince. “If thoughts and expectations are important, then th
is is my way of ensuring good luck,” she said with considerable asperity.

  King Rayfe hesitated, then put his hand over hers, meeting her gaze. “Nothing is more important than you are.”

  “Now that’s not true,” she replied, but everything about her softened. “Annfwn needs me, after all.” She dragged her gaze from his and pinned me with it. “You’ll have to find someone else. I’ll give whatever permissions are needed, or if there are rites…”

  She trailed off as the king and I both shook our heads. “There is no one else,” I clarified.

  “All those cousins, the traditions of Salena’s line.” She frowned at us both. “You led me to believe there are others. There’s Stella.”

  “Not for years,” King Rayfe said with regret. “Stella must grow up and, as far as others… well, I didn’t want you to feel too much pressure.”

  Her slackened jaw firmed, gray eyes going stormier. A hint of ozone and her hair stirring in an invisible wind. “It can’t be all on me. I have to risk shifting. The world is bigger than me and Annfwn. Don’t start with me.” Her voice cracked like lightning striking too near, but King Rayfe didn’t flinch. His own considerable power gathered around him.

  I stood. “No, it isn’t all on you, Queen Andromeda. It’s on me. This was my charge, for more years than you’ve been queen, and this is my failure.”

  Her storm receded, sun breaking through clouds, and she bit her lower lip, sympathy in her eyes. “It’s not a failure, Zynda. We all can only do our best. I spent years of my life feeling that I’d failed everyone in everything. I did my best to hide from that, to be invisible.” When King Rayfe took her hand again, she let him, though she shot him a look that made me think all wasn’t forgiven so easily. He grinned at her ferocity. Difficult to imagine this woman who scintillated with so much magic, as invisible.

  “I learned otherwise,” she said to me, her tone full of import, as if she’d heard my thought. “I’ll keep the Star for you. We’re alert now to these sleeper spies, so we’ll be on guard. It will be as safe here as anywhere.”

  “Thank you,” I said, then bowed. “I hope that I can help you, ensure the best possible outcome, when I return.”

  King Rayfe gave me a long look of dawning understanding, but Queen Andromeda gave a puzzled laugh. “That’s a lovely thought, but that responsibility isn’t yours. Don’t take on too much of the world, cousin. But do give my love to Ami.” She stood. “And give her this for me.”

  She hugged me, softly, but with so much warmth in it that I nearly teared up. What a tenderhearted mess I’d become. Andi pulled back a little, but still held onto me. “A lot of that was for you, too.”

  ~ 24 ~

  “So, tomorrow we leave for Windroven,” Marskal said, pouring us both more wine. At least he’d gotten the really good stuff for his coins. He’d plied me with plenty already—along with the flowers, candlelight, and an amazing assembly of all my childhood favorite foods. He seemed to find it amusing that he’d only had to mention my name to the various vendors and they immediately packaged up something with no further prompting. I suspected his coins—gold ones stamped with Ursula’s hawkish profile, newly minted from her father’s personal and considerable treasure hoard, it turned out—were highly sought enough, both for their value and novelty that he’d likely overpaid considerably.

  Not that I’d say so, since he seemed boyishly delighted to have surprised me. And I’d enjoyed the deliciously amusing, if eclectic, meal—and being romanced. Having my head swim delightfully with wine and his masculine attention helped mitigate my fretting.

  He shoveled the rest of the lemon candies onto my plate. “Those things are foul. I don’t know how you can stand them.”

  “An acquired taste, perhaps.”

  “We’re not that far away,” he continued. “With the barrier down, I figure we could even cut through the mountains north of the Crane Isthmus. We never made it that far south on our expedition.” He flicked a mischievous glance at me when I made a face for Ursula’s spying efforts. “But if we went down the coast of Annfwn—even catch a ride in a boat, maybe—it would be a pretty short diagonal across to Windroven. Part of the world I’ve never seen, too.”

  I had to smile for his enthusiastic wanderlust. “Not in human form, I wouldn’t want to try it. The mountains there are lower, but full of boggy willow bottoms and sinkholes.”

  “You’ve been there then?”

  “Flown over, mostly.” I gathered up the wistful pain and tucked it away under practicality. “I haven’t walked it, but I’m reasonably certain that going on foot would take forever.”

  “Didn’t King Rayfe take Andi that way after their wedding on the battlefield at Windroven, though?”

  I raised my brows. “How did you know that?”

  “We tracked them for a while, when we believed it might be possible to get her back. But we couldn’t keep up.” He grimaced ruefully for the failure.

  “They were on staymach and shifter horses—you would never have been able to. Even so, they still skirted settlements and took a circuitous route. Via Odfell’s Pass and down would be faster for us. No pursuing enemy to avoid.” I gave him a sweet smile.

  He ignored the jibe, nodding. “Just the two of us, and a couple of good horses, and we could still be there in two days. Three at the outside.”

  “It’s not a pleasure jaunt, Marskal.”

  He shrugged that off. “I’m looking forward to time alone with you, regardless of the purpose of the journey.”

  “We won’t be alone long, nor will it be quick, if you get embroiled in goings-on at Ordnung,” I pointed out.

  He grinned back. “No, we’d avoid the castle for that very reason. Her Majesty isn’t expecting us, so we’d go around. From the stories, it didn’t take long after you all landed on Nahanau to free Kiraka.”

  “Except that Nakoa knew what he was doing, magically speaking.”

  “You have more magic than he does, you understand shapeshifter ways, and you’ve seen the ritual before. I have confidence.” He said it so casually, methodically finishing the fresh crab morsels, that it gave me a shiver. No exaggeration there. “Maybe Kiraka can advise you, if necessary.”

  “I don’t know if I can talk to Kiraka over that distance.”

  “Bring some staymachs with us—no reason they have to stay here, is there?”

  I regarded him with some consternation. We’d been so long in the habit of insularity in Annfwnn that I’d grown barriers around my thoughts, as well. With magic so widely dispersed now, of course the staymachs could come with us. The one I’d coaxed in to bird shape had been visiting regularly anyway. They tended to get attached that way. No doubt I could persuade it and maybe a few others to come along. Ones who liked to be horses would be ideal for multiple purposes.

  “So long as Kiraka decided not to have them for a snack.”

  Marskal’s eyes sparkled with humor and he opened his mouth, then closed it with an odd twist.

  “What?”

  He shook his head slightly. “An inappropriate joke I thought better of.”

  I could follow his thoughts well enough by now to guess. “About me already being her snack?”

  He regarded me steadily. “I wasn’t sure if you’d find it funny.”

  I grimaced ruefully. The day a Tala couldn’t laugh at herself would be lusterless, indeed. Perhaps I’d been taking myself far too seriously. All this wounded pride and arrogance.

  “Ursula might not be thrilled to have another dragon loose,” I said, and picturing her expression made me laugh softly. “Though Queen Andromeda seemed to know where we planned to go.”

  “I didn’t get to tell you yet, but Her Majesty gave us permission.” He assumed a narrow-eyed steely glare, tightening his lips in an uncanny imitation of Ursula, saying, “If Ami will let you near her precious volcano, and you can release the dragon, then do it. Things can hardly be worse. At least we know they’re not Deyrr’s creatures.”

  I laughed in
truth, and his eyes sparkled with mirth. “I had no idea you could imitate her so flawlessly.”

  “Long familiarity,” he commented drily. “And if you ever let on, I’ll take revenge.”

  “You could try,” I retorted, aware I echoed my queen and not minding.

  He lowered his brows and reached across the table, taking my hand again in a firm grip, his eyes hot. “Is that a challenge? You know how I feel about challenges.”

  A zing of arousal shot through me and I tugged at our joined hands. He tightened his, not letting go. In fact, he started pulling me over the table toward him. Not ready to be controlled that easily, I simply crawled up onto the table, stalking toward him, not caring that I knocked my empty wine glass over.

  “You think to taunt the tiger?” I purred.

  “Taunt?” He went very still, which should have warned me, but I underestimated his reflexes. In a flash he dashed the dishes, candles and all from the table and toppled me onto my back, pinning me by the wrists and trapping me with the lower half of his body.

  “I’ve been practicing my wrestling moves,” he informed me.

  I twisted out of his hold and he neatly recaptured me, this time with both my wrists in one hand, stretching them over my head so I lost leverage. “Several of the shapeshifters were helpful today in teaching me how to bypass your particular kind of strength.”

  “Which shapeshifters?” I demanded, testing his strength, struggling more for the fun of it than really trying to break his grip. I could if I wanted to. Maybe.

  “Jealous?” he teased.

  “No,” I replied, winding my legs around his narrow hips and locking him into place. “Because they all know you’re my mossback.”

  “Am I?” he breathed, eyes gleaming with reflected candlelight.

  I would have offered more, the words I knew he wanted from me, but I didn’t like to lie to him more than came naturally. Instead I flexed my thighs, tightening on him, while arching my back so my breasts thrust up enticingly. “You seem to be captured, so yes.”