Shifter Queen (Dragons & Phoenixes Book 3)

by Miranda Martin

Emberich was known for being ruthless. The risk would be great. He wouldn't pull any punches if he thought a flock's loyalty was in question.

  That wasn't even considering the number that would refuse to back us after they realized that I was supposed to be the next one in line to the throne. Maybe they would be able to get over my human genes. Maybe. But dragon would be a much harder pill to swallow. I wasn't naive about that.

  The number we'd need would likely be too high for us to achieve without Emberich getting wind that something was going on. If he was someone who couldn't even find out when the majority of his people were actively plotting against him, he wouldn't have been able to stay on the throne for so long.

  He wasn't stupid.

  Which was a pity.

  This isn't really a viable plan Mia.

  I could almost hear the censure in her tone as I read that last message.

  She was right.

  Damn it.

  Back to the drawing board.

  I sent that last message off and stood up. I had such an urge and a drive to do something, but I couldn't find a way to get through this roadblock yet. I knew things were going to get worse before they got better. Maybe I was being pessimistic here, but that was just the way the wind seemed to be blowing.

  I needed to work off some of this frustration or I really was going to go crazy.

  Ashur's floor felt really empty without either him or Omari there, but Ashur had work to do and Omari was in school. I couldn't do any work here, so that was out. I checked the time. Omari would be out in about another hour or so.

  I pulled on some shoes and headed for the elevator, not knowing where I was going but having to get out of there. I got in and pressed the button to go down to the first floor, but then my eye caught on another button. I knew what was on that floor. Before I could overthink it, I pressed the button.

  What was the worst that could happen? Maybe they told me to get lost. I was a big girl, my skin was thick enough to take that.

  I fingered the hilt of one of my knives as the elevator descended, my heartbeat picking up. I felt like I was in elementary school all over again, wondering if the other kids were going to pick me for their team. When the doors opened, the sounds of training spilling through, I had a moment where I wondered if I had made the wrong decision.

  "Here we go," I muttered to myself as I stepped out. In for a penny. And I was tired of feeling like an outsider. If Ashur and I were going to be together, maybe I needed to see if his people could actually accept me. Better to know if they wouldn't.

  So I walked into the practice room, where a couple dozen of Ashur's people were training. The cavernous space struck me once again, the ceiling three stories high with recessed lights and sconces on the walls illuminating the room. There were open archways in all four walls connecting this one to other rooms.

  Like the first time when I walked in here, people were practicing on the mats, laid out on one side of the space. On the other side, the wall was covered in various weapons. Blades, spears, bows, and more. The people currently training to improve their skills were dressed in a variety of clothing, from leggings and sweats, all the way to traditional martial arts uniforms.

  My jeans and boots probably didn't exactly fit in, but I wasn't going to go back and change now. Plus, this was what I was wearing when I was working. They gave me protection that yoga pants or some of those loose-flowing deals just wouldn't.

  I looked around at the people practicing with the heavy bags in the back, others sparring, and some more grappling on the mats. At the very end of the room, I realized one of the alcoves actually led to a long hall where there were also a few people shooting at targets with bows and arrows. As I stood there taking it all in, people started noticing that I was there. They gave me surreptitious looks, but kept going with whatever they were involved with.

  I walked through, taking in the various fighting styles and match-ups. I stopped to watch a particularly hard sparring session between two brawny men. They were in a contest of brute strength, but they also had plenty of technique to go along with it.

  Not just stupid muscle.

  The dark-haired one got the other in a painful lock on the ground. I knew what I would do in that situation. I'd use my knife. But when I looked around, I realized nobody was fighting with a weapon, despite all of the offerings up on the wall.

  "Here to spar?"

  I looked back at the voice. It was the dark-haired guy with the short beard who'd just won the bout with his blue-haired friend.

  "Thoran," his friend warned uneasily, giving me a nervous glance.

  "I could spar," I said calmly. If he thought he was going to scare me away by asking me that, he was sorely mistaken. "So long as I can use my knives."

  He glanced down at the hilt already in my hand and grinned.

  "Deal," he agreed confidently.

  "Thoran," his friend said more insistently.

  "It's fine, Leonar," he replied sharply. "She wants to spar, all right?"

  "But you need a weapon too then," I added. "Or it won't be fair."

  He laughed like I was joking, but then quieted when he saw that I was serious.

  "I have about a hundred pounds on you," he said, waving his hands at himself. "I don't need a weapon to take you down."

  "Do you have on armor?" I asked.

  He frowned.

  "We have practice blades that we put paint on the edges of," Leonar offered. "Do you want to use those?"

  I nodded, holstering my knives.

  "I think it's a good idea if your friend here refuses to get weapons of his own," I agreed.

  "I'll be right back," Leonar said, and he hurried away.

  Thoran and I stared at each other while we waited for Leonar to bring back the practice blades.

  "So...you like to lift?" I ventured, feeling awkward just twiddling my thumbs.

  He gave me a look.

  Fine. Maybe I wasn't the best at small talk. But at least I was trying.

  The blades Leonar brought back for me were lined with small tubes at the edges that disbursed paint when I touched them.

  "It'll mark him every time you have a direct hit," he explained.

  I nodded, testing their weight and balance. Not as good as my own knives, but I would make do.

  I stepped onto the mat. Everyone around us gave up even the pretense of not watching, stopping what they were doing and moving closer for a better look.

  "Ready?" I asked.

  Thoran grinned, cracking his knuckles.

  "Ready."

  "I'll referee and will determine when the fight is over. Whoever scores a hit or a lock that would debilitate the opponent wins. Understand?" Leonar asked, looking at both of us for confirmation.

  "Yes."

  "Yes," Thoran agreed as well.

  "Ready? Go!"

  We started circling, taking each other's measure.

  Thoran was right that he definitely had the strength and the reach advantage. Maybe having both of those made him complacent about the blades. Or maybe he thought I was just that useless with them. I'd be happy to dissuade him of that notion.

  I waited until he made the first move, not wanting to give him an opportunity to grab me and use his weight to his advantage. And he did.

  Stepping to the side, he feinted a punch, but then moved in with a swift kick instead.

  I was a touch faster. Dodging it, I stepped to the side and sliced at his thigh. A blue line of paint marked the area.

  "Hit!" Leonar called out.

  Thoran's eyes narrowed and he growled. He'd be more careful now.

  I kept circling, watching his footwork and the motion of shoulders. If he got ahold of me or had me on the ground, that would likely be the end of the match.

  We kept going like that.

  He lunged, kicking, punching, the blows either missing me or simply grazing me as I moved to dodge them.

  I kept slicing at him, bit by bit until he was a patchwork of small slices. Non
e of them were deep enough to count as a match killer, but I knew in the real world he would be starting to feel the blood loss. That was when I started getting a little too cocky. Mistake.

  I dodged a punch only to be surprised by a leg sweep that I didn't dodge quite in time.

  I fell to the ground, hitting carefully to ensure I didn't hurt myself. I rolled immediately, but not before he got ahold of me.

  I knew by the grip he went for what pin he was going to go for. If I let him get me into it, that would be it.

  Done.

  So I wouldn't let him get me into it. I twisted in his hold hard, elbowing him in the gut. He grunted, but didn't let go. But he did loosen his grip enough that I was able to slide my torso behind him. And rest my knife lightly against his throat, right on his pulse.

  He froze.

  "Direct hit! Mia wins!" Leonar called out. Perhaps a little more gleefully than necessary.

  Both Thoran and I were breathing hard.

  "Going to let me go there?" I asked, not moving the faux blade.

  He grunted.

  I pulled my knife back gingerly as he let go of me.

  We both got to our feet.

  "Good match," I said, holding my hand out.

  He looked a little startled at that. Maybe he thought I was going to rub it in his face. But he shook it off and reached out to take my hand in his, giving it a good shake.

  "Good match," he agreed only a little grudgingly. He smiled slightly. "Teaches me to assume you don't know what the hell you're doing with those," he said, nodding at my knives.

  I grinned back. "I love it when they do. Makes it a lot easier for me."

  He laughed. "I bet it does."

  As I stepped away, I got a few slaps on the back from the onlookers.

  "Good match."

  "How did you learn to use knives like that?"

  "Good job taking Thoran down a few notches. He was getting a little too big for his britches."

  I took the slaps on the back with a smile.

  "I'm sure it would be a lot harder to get him the next time," I pointed out. "I won't have the element of surprise anymore."

  "Don't be falsely modest," a sharp female voice interrupted.

  I looked over to find a pretty woman in her mid-twenties, her short curly hair framing her round face, both of them a burnished caramel color.

  "I don't think I've ever been accused of being falsely modest," I joked, taking her measure. What was her deal?

  She raised her brows at me. "Anything else you're good at?" she prodded.

  I shrugged. "I'm pretty good with a bow," I admitted. "Why?"

  She smirked. "I just like knowing everyone's skill set. Just in case I need to put you somewhere during an attack."

  I shrugged. Maybe that was the reason. Maybe not.

  "Want to take some shots?" she asked, jerking her head towards the targets already set up in the alcove hallway.

  "Sure," I said easily. Practice never hurt. I followed her over to the rack of bows and quivers full of arrows.

  "Have a preference?" she asked.

  I looked through the standard bows. I felt a pang for the bows I'd lost with my apartment, but I pushed it aside. They were only things. They could be replaced.

  I grabbed one that looked promising in its familiarity. I knew how it would likely perform.

  She nodded and handed me some arrows.

  "Want to get a feel for it?" she asked.

  "Yeah, that would be good."

  Standing at one of the closer marks, I let loose a few arrows, just to understand how the bow and the arrows behaved. My interested onlooker waited while I did so.

  "Good?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  "Then I'm assuming you wouldn't mind a little competition?" she asked. "Maybe five arrows?"

  I shrugged. "All right."

  Looked like she just wanted to see whose balls were bigger. So she got into position next to me and raised her own bow. I got into my own stance, and we shot. I went into that relaxed place, my breathing even, and released arrows quickly, until I counted five.

  I lowered the bow just as she did. Both of ours were clustered right around our respective bullseyes.

  "You're pretty good," she admitted. She looked over at me, her eyes challenging. "Want to move back farther?"

  "Sure."

  We went to the next level back, and repeated the same process. And had the same result.

  "How about the other end of the room," she asked, looking over at me with narrowed eyes. This wasn't going as she'd planned. I looked at the other end of the room. It was far enough that the targets would be pretty damn small. But I liked a challenge.

  "Let's do it."

  Now we were really attracting attention. People gathered on the sides, clearing the space between us and the targets as they watched.

  "Nobody's better than Reese," I heard someone murmur in an aside.

  "You should have seen some of the shots Mia made when Cinira attacked," someone else countered. "If anyone is better, it's her."

  That was really distracting. And kind of a lot of pressure. All right. I knew how to let all of that go.

  Taking a deep breath, I went still, focusing on the tiny targets. Nobody was trying to kill me and there wasn't any wind or other elements to worry about, which would make this easier. Well it would make the shot easier, but conversely, it made it a little harder for me to concentrate. Go figure.

  Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. Along with the first arrow.

  And then another.

  And then another.

  Until our agreed upon five arrows were done once again. If she suggested we fly outside to get farther away and try to use our dragon teeth to shoot, I was going to have to slap some sense into the woman.

  When we stopped firing, someone ran over to the target. He leaned close.

  "They're all in the bullseyes!" he called out. "Every single one!"

  The woman, who I was assuming was Reese, glanced over at me. By mutual accord, we walked back over to the targets. The man was right. All ten of the arrows were embedded directly in the center of the bullseyes. Reese stared at the almost identical targets bristling with arrows. She nodded and looked over at me.

  "You're good." No patronizing tone this time.

  I shrugged. "So are you."

  She smiled. "True." She nodded. "Maybe we can practice together sometime," she suggested.

  I smiled back at her. "Maybe," I agreed.

  It might be nice to have a shooting buddy. I fielded a few more compliments about my skill with a bow and arrow, but I felt like it was time to get out of there while I was still ahead of the game. So I walked out and went back to the elevator, taking it back up to Ashur's suite.

  It was almost time to pick Omari up. I showered quickly and changed into a fresh set of clothes before I headed out to get him. Not that I necessarily had to go get him. That was one of the many pluses of being in Ashur's territory.

  It was safe enough that Omari could make his own way back with no problem. Everyone knew who he was and where he belonged. And Hathai was with him today. Neither Ashur nor I wanted to let down our guard with the way things were with Emberich right now. So Omari would have a guard until there was some kind of resolution. It wasn't ideal. I didn't want him to feel any more different than I'm sure he already did, but his safety was more important.

  As I left the building, I still felt pretty cooped up even after getting out some of my energy. I walked over to the small school, and waited for the bell to ring. As with everywhere I went in the city, I could see people giving me looks. Not necessarily hostile ones, but curious and reserved. I got a few greetings that I replied to with a smile as I waited. A little better than the first few times I came to pick Omari up.

  I saw Hathai waiting outside Omari's classroom and waved at her. She waved back, jogging over.

  "I can take him from here."

  "Okay, I'll head back. See you later."


  "Later."

  An older woman made her way over to me as soon as Hathai left and held her hand out in greeting.

  "You must be Mia," she said with a smile.

  I nodded, smiling back tentatively.

  "I'm Melis, Trevor's grandmother," she explained.

  "Oh, Omari talks about Trevor all the time!" I said, my smile turning genuine.

  She chuckled. "Trevor's the same," she said. "Perhaps we could all have lunch sometime? Omari is a wonderful child, so bright and kind."

  "I'd love to," I agreed. "I know Omari would love it."

  I had decided to make more of an effort, for Ashur's sake and for Omari's. I couldn't keep completely to myself. It just wouldn't work. And, to my surprise, I didn't hate it. Maybe because I didn't have to hide what I was here. Everyone already knew. It was kind of freeing.

  We chatted a little longer, until the kids came out. I waved goodbye as I guided Omari away from Ashur's building.

  "Where are we going?" he asked, practically skipping down the sidewalk.

  "Nowhere in particular," I said shrugging. "I just wanted to walk around and explore the city. But we can go back if you're tired?"

  He shook his head vehemently. "No, I want to explore the city!" he said excitedly. "There's a candy store down the street!"

  I laughed. Of course that was the first thing he would think of. We didn't go straight to the candy store. The first place we stopped by was actually an antique store, the shiny metallic sign catching my eye. Omari's eyes were wide as he looked around at the array of offerings when we stepped inside.

  "Look, but don't touch," I warned.

  I had the urge to touch everything, so I knew he would too. There were old desks, lamps, armoires, and much more, along with a bunch of smaller knickknacks and things I couldn't quite identify. My eyes landed on a display against the back wall.

  Ooooh. Weapons.

  A whole array of them, from ornamental knives with shimmery hilts to short, beat-up swords, and longer broadswords that I knew didn't have the upper-body strength to wield.

  And a bow to the side that gleamed, calling my name. I walked up to it, my hands itching to touch. It was gorgeous. Well used and well cared for, it wouldn't have the range of my compound bow, but it was pretty and, I was sure, good for shorter distances.