Herd Mistress
In Deception’s Shadow Book 2
By Lisa Blackwood
Herd Mistress © 2015 by Lisa Blackwood
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover design by Hanna James
www.heyhannajames.com
First eBook Edition *October 2013
Other books
by
Lisa Blackwood
The Avatars
Stone’s Kiss
Stone’s Song
Stone’s Divide (Fall 2015)
Stone’s War (Forthcoming Spring 2016)
In Deception’s Shadow
Betrayal’s Price
Herd Mistress
Death’s Queen (Forthcoming fall 2015)
City of Burning Water (Forthcoming Fall 2016)
Warships of the Spire
Vengeance (Fall 2015)
Back Cover
Fantasy Romance by Lisa Blackwood
Magic. It turned Sorsha Stonemantle’s world on its head. Yet she can’t hate magic for without it Shadowdancer, the Santhyrian ambassador, would never have come into her life.
In the days following their first meeting, Sorsha knows Shadowdancer completes her soul. There’s only one problem. He’s a horse, or at least, enough like one that any relationship beyond friendship is an impossibly.
From the moment Shadowdancer encountered Sorsha, he knew she was a Herd Mistress—a rare worker of magic, key to the Santhyrian nation’s survival. His first obligation is to protect her and bring her back to the safety of the herd, but when Sorsha is threatened by Lord Master Trensler and his priesthood, they soon discover Trensler serves a darker master, one willing to devour all magic until the world dies. And that evil wants Shadowdancer and Sorsha.
When a second ambush set by Trensler cripples Sorsha’s magic and traps Shadowdancer in the form of a man, they barely escape with their lives. Unwilling to allow her lack of magic to rule her life, Sorsha sets out to teach Shadowdancer that being human isn’t a curse. The proud Santhyrian stubbornly tries to push Sorsha away, but when they are endangered once again, they realize they must work together to find a way to heal themselves. If they fail, Trensler’s master will devour first them and then everything else Sorsha and Shadowdancer ever loved.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Afterword
About the Author
Also by Lisa Blackwood
Chapter One
Sorsha’s fingers bit into the stone ridge above her head. The slight strain in her shoulders edged up another notch as her entire weight dragged on muscle, bone, and joint with familiar discomfort. The dull pain wasn’t new or particularly unexpected seeing how her body wasn’t designed for hanging suspended four floors above the ground. But never one to let small things like limitations thwart her, Sorsha denied defeat this night like all the ones before.
She shifted positions and lowered herself with a slow caution at odds with the reckless elation building in her blood. The ever present coastal winds buffeted her, yet she bit back a joyous laugh. Focusing, she bent a knee and envisioned her toes finding a hold.
Arms aching, shoulders on the verge of popping from their sockets, she fought past the pain and stretched farther. Just when she thought she’d shrunk, or the Stonemantle residence had suddenly grown like a tree stretching toward the sky, her bare feet found the ridge she sought.
With stone once again under her toes, Sorsha released a sigh of relief. The top portion of her downward climb always tested her skills. It wouldn’t be such a chore if she had her sister’s height. Luckily, a couple of well placed trellises below her window made the rest of the climb a gentle outing.
Sorsha’s feet hadn’t yet touched the ground and excitement already quickened her pulse. A hurried survey of the ground below, and another along the pale stone path skirting the manor, reassured her she hadn’t been seen. Her reputation wouldn’t survive if someone glimpsed her sneaking out of her bedroom window at night. She couldn’t bring herself to worry over such a mundane thing for long. Not when for the first time in her life, she’d found another soul who matched her own. The knowledge made her brave and a tad foolish. Though, she didn’t truly fear getting caught. She’d long since made a nightly habit of escape, and could practically hide in a guard’s own shadow if she wished—one of many valuable skills she’d learned from her sister, Ashayna. Dressing in a stolen set of her sister’s scouting leathers never hurt either.
Movement to her left, barely more than a hint of motion on her peripheral vision, caught Sorsha’s attention. She held her breath as a deep purple shadow, two shades darker than night, darted between the trees skirting the manor.
Though her nighttime trips had, in the past, involved meeting a clandestine lover, these last few nights were for a completely different purpose. And perhaps more fulfilling than anything she’d known in all her life, for they hinted at the possibility of adventure, of freedoms she’d never experienced or dreamed possible—a feasible escape from the tedium and limitations of a noblewoman’s sheltered life.
A foolish grin pulled at her lips. In a hurry, she dropped the rest of the way to the ground. Freshly turned earth and a recent rain softened her landing. She wiggled her toes in the dirt for a moment, enjoying the sensation and the rich, loamy scent. Then she ducked her head, swung her boots from around her neck, and untied the knotted laces while she waited.
At the sound of hooves on gravel, she turned and cast a smile in the direction of the noise. Her accomplice stepped out of the darkness and nudged her with his velvety muzzle, searching until he found the carrot she’d hidden in her back pocket for him. The Santhyrian ambassador stood eighteen hands high, his dark bay coloring more a velvety black at night. His long mane flowed across his arched neck, brushing against her shoulder and arm as he stepped alongside her. As always, the silky texture enticed her to groom it, and for the hundredth time, she reminded herself not to touch without an invitation. Shadowdancer wasn’t a horse, as much as he looked like one.
“Well, little mane ornament, shall we ride?”
Sorsha grinned at the name, and his mental tone—half term of endearment, half insult.
“I’ve been waiting on you, big brute.” She was inordinately pleased her mind speech sounded clear and strong. With the help of his nightly
training sessions, she was starting to learn and understand her magic, though she still found it odd to think another creature lived within her. Larnkin, he called it—a creature from the spirit world.
As if her Larnkin knew her thoughts, it stretched within her, molten power flowing under her skin.
“Wait, little one.” Shadowdancer bobbed his head and shoved her shoulder with his muzzle. “Do not call your power here. We might be found out by an Acolyte, and I do not like how those priests look upon my brethren and I. Sorntar doesn’t trust the priests either.”
At the reminder of the Crown Prince of the Phoenix, Sorsha narrowed her eyes. While she had Sorntar to thank for introducing her to Shadowdancer and the other Santhyrians, she was still annoyed with him. She bent to pull on her boots, jerking them on with more strength than needed.
“I thought you liked your sister’s bondmate?”
Sorsha crossed her arms and remained silent.
“Well?” he asked with an accompanying bump to her shoulder.
She huffed out a breath. “First he abducts my sister, then he returns to his own people for months and I get no word from Ashayna—she could have been dead for all I knew. Then he comes prancing back here with her, but he won’t even say how long they’re staying.”
“Actually, he flew here.” Shadowdancer snorted and tossed his head. His hooves dug furrows in the gravel. “Get on you little faker—we must talk.” He continued to butt her chest until she mounted.
Her anger ebbed once she was astride, the wind and fields calling her to race.
“You’ve the soul of a Santhyrian, little one.”
“Thank you for the compliment. Now, are we going to ride or stand here all night?”
In reply, Shadowdancer broke into a trot, navigating the night-shadowed world by the light of two crescent moons.
When they were clear of the settlement of River’s Divide, Shadowdancer lengthened his stride into a full gallop. The ground sped past in a heart pounding blur. She clamped her legs against Shadowdancer’s barrel, turned her face up to the moons, and lifted her arms above her head, her eyes drifting closed. It was dangerous—which intensified the thrill—and yet it was not dangerous at all. With each strike of his hooves against the ground, the stallion gathered power until his magic echoed up into her body and they were one, a merging of mind and soul.
Seen through his eyes, the path was clear before him, the ground level. As her mind settled more firmly in his, the smallest imperfections in the terrain became visible. She could feel each of his foot falls, sense the current of magic in the ground, and stronger still, feel the tightly knotted core of his power—his Larnkin—just out of reach. Joined this way, she imagined she could talk with his Larnkin, communicate with it almost as well as Shadowdancer could.
Yet doubt held her back. Fear of destroying such an utter sense of completeness stopped her from asking if Shadowdancer felt the same. No matter how much she hated to admit it, the closeness she felt could be nothing more than her imagination. While she could see what Shadowdancer saw, his emotions were shuttered.
Sorsha drifted in her own thoughts as Shadowdancer galloped onward, leaving the Stonemantle residence far behind. Ahead, the dark forest waited with its seductive promise of freedom.
They rode in silence for a time. With her eyes still closed and her fingers buried in his mane, Sorsha listened to Shadowdancer’s breath, the thunder of his hooves, the wind in her ears—the sounds of life and joy and love. Her power built within her, twisting upward and higher still, a burning weight which sought…something. There lay another problem. She didn’t know what she, or her power, really wanted. Perhaps if they rode just a little longer or faster, the knowledge of what she sought would come to her. It was as if her fate was just beyond her reach, waiting for her to find her purpose and claim it.
When Shadowdancer slowed his pace, Sorsha opened her eyes and lowered her arms. Frustration enveloped her, but she didn’t give it voice. It might be nothing but her fantasy to escape life as a noblewoman and return with him to the Elementals’ city and find another life—one with more meaning. Just like her sister, Ashayna, had found with the Crown Prince of the Phoenix.
“I think I should be jealous.” Amusement colored Shadowdancer’s mental voice. “You’ve thought of Sorntar at least three times tonight.”
“Oh.” Sorsha frowned, annoyed with herself for allowing private thoughts to bleed across the link. But Shadowdancer didn’t seem ruffled in the least. Maybe blunt honesty was best. “I don’t covet Ashayna’s bondmate. Prince Sorntar is handsome to be sure, but his personality is a little…bland. Too tame for my tastes. I love a good challenge. While I’m on the topic of challenges, I demand you tell me how you read my thoughts so easily without me knowing.”
“I must keep a few secrets from my little trellis monkey.” Shadowdancer snorted in humor when she slapped his neck. “And you do realize you just called a Phoenix bland—they’re fiery by their very natures.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“For your sake, I hope you never do.” Shadowdancer halted when he came alongside a stream. “Before we started out, you were going to tell me why you were angry at Sorntar.”
Sorsha dismounted. Kneeling, she stared at the stream in silence for several moments before she scooped up a handful of water and drank. Thirst slaked, she splashed refreshingly cold water on her face. Shadowdancer dipped his nose in the stream next to her, and she didn’t miss how he rolled an eye in her direction.
“Fine.” She huffed, embarrassed all over again at the memory of the pitying look Sorntar had bestowed upon her the last time she’d cornered him. It was as if the damned Phoenix could see all the way to her soul, and had known the impossibility of her heart’s desire. “I asked if I could return to the Elemental’s city when you and your people leave.”
“Prince Sorntar wisely said no. And I agree with his decision.”
She drew in a sharp breath at his words, surprised by the twinge of pain. She’d thought Shadowdancer would side with her—they were friends, were they not? Apparently not. But then…it would mean whatever strange power engulfed her when he was near was a one-sided phenomenon. Perhaps that knowledge was the cause of Sorntar’s pity. To her great embarrassment, her throat tightened, and her eyes filled with tears.
Don’t cry, she snarled to herself. I have not cried since I was a young girl. I’m not going to start now.
“Easy, little one. I want you to return with us—I will do all in my power to convince General Stonemantle that your sister would benefit from another human’s presence. But the peace agreement is still in its infancy and the general has many, many responsibilities and must act in a way his peers and his emperor will not object. And it doesn’t help that the general is also your father. No responsible father would let you go without very good reason, and it would start a war if I just spirited you away.” His mental thoughts trailed off, but his magic still touched her mind—a lingering caress. It allowed her the chance to feel his deep sorrow at the thought of leaving her. “I can’t keep you, little one. Even if I want to.”
She chuckled. “I’m not a pet, you know.”
Her muscles unclenched and she smiled as she reached out to rub his nose. He lipped at her fingers. Almost of their own accord, her arms encircled his neck and she bowed her forehead against him. “I know this sounds foolish, but no one has ever understood me until you.”
A long pause answered her words. Heat mounted her face in a burning wave. Oh, blessed Creator, she’d just said the wrong damn thing again. Like she was prone to with the Santhyrian—there was just something about him that made her drop all her defenses and expose her soul. Embarrassing. But, in her defense, having Shadowdancer as a friend was a little like being able to talk to a beloved animal companion, but one with the double-edged gift of having intelligence and wit equal to a human’s. Sorsha admitted when she closed her eyes and let her mind drift she sometimes forgot Shadowdancer was neither horse
nor human and let private thoughts slip. Like now.
Just when she was scouring her brain for something to add to her last comment to make it sound less like it had come from a love-struck fool, he answered her.
“Honestly, it never entered my thoughts I would one day befriend a human—your kind fears magic and distrusts the elder races to such an extent, it just didn’t seem likely. But then fate laughed at me and tossed you under my hooves, so to speak.”
“You terrified me.” Sorsha laughed at the memory, now safely behind her. She’d been riding through the familiar forest on her way to visit her friend, Beatrice. The peasant girl lived with her brother and grandmother—an old wise woman known only as Old Mother—who avoided civilization as much as possible. On that particular day, Sorsha had been bringing supplies to the three when she’d heard the thunder of hooves closing in on her location. When a big black shadow had burst onto the path directly beside them, her mare had reared, dumping Sorsha in an undignified heap at Shadowdancer’s hooves. By some miracle Shadowdancer had managed to avoid stepping on her. “I still haven’t forgiven Shadegrove for throwing me.”
“I thank your skittish mare daily.” Shadowdancer’s thoughts brushed hers, his humor washing over her in a warm wave. “Though, I have to say, your first words to me would have made even a veteran stallion strut—all your talk of my wonderful proportions and my lovely form.”
“Horses find my voice soothing,” Sorsha said in a rush, “Besides, I was talking nonsense and desperately hoping you wouldn’t trample me.”
“Ah. Here I thought you were talking about my superior endowments. How disappointing.”
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