Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2)

by Lisa Blackwood

  Sorntar’s voice drifted to him as if from far away. Shadowdancer didn’t care what else the Phoenix had to say.

  “Sorntar, he’s not listening. Let me try.”

  Surprise engulfed him when Ashayna grabbed his chin. Her fingers, made strong from wielding a sword most of her life, tightened their grip and twisted. It was either turn his head or have his jaw broken.

  “There, you see. All is well. I wouldn’t be calmly sitting here if it wasn’t.”

  His eyes widened, his breath hitched. Several cots had been pushed back to make room for his big body, but one still remained near him, at his back. Sprawled on his side as he was, his rump nearly touched one of the cot’s legs. He bolted to his feet so quickly his vision darkened and he stumbled. A misplaced hoof landed on something soft. Ashayna loosed a curse that made him blush as he hastily moved the offending hoof.

  Slowly, the vertigo eased and his vision cleared.

  Now that he was standing, he could easily look down into the cot and watch the one who slept there. The blankets tucked up to her chin, her chest rising and falling with beautiful life, Sorsha slept on, unaware.

  “H-how?” His hands shook uncontrollably as he touched her cheek. Sorsha mumbled something in her sleep. He leaned closer, having to brush his cheek to her, inhale her welcoming scent. His Herd Mistress, as human as she’d been the first time he’d seen her, but still his love.

  She lived.

  A silly grin tugged on his lips. He couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to stop it.

  “By the light,” Ashayna loosed a long, low whistle as she rubbed her sore foot. She craned her neck to look up at him. “I heard you ran afoul of an Oracle, but seeing it is something else all together. He certainly changed you into a behemoth.”

  Shadowdancer shifted positions at the sound of the Crown Prince’s sharply cleared throat, and he felt his head brush the top of the tent. Strange how when he and Sorsha had been galloping for their lives, he hadn’t realized how lofty his vantage point had become. But, as Ashayna had put it so elegantly, he was a behemoth, towering even over Sorntar.

  Prince Sorntar coughed discreetly into his fist as he elbowed his bondmate hard enough to elicit a grunt.

  “What?” Ashayna smacked her bondmate in the shoulder. “It wasn’t as if I insulted him.”

  Sorntar rolled his eyes in a hopeless gesture.

  “I wasn’t.” Ashayna eyed Shadowdancer. “If you must know, you’re rather handsome in a…a…unique way. I’m sure Sorsha still finds you appealing.”

  The Phoenix’s long, feathered crest quivered in what was clearly a wince. “Forgive my bondmate, but I believe she suffers from an incurable flaw that is shared by all the Stonemantle line. You may be familiar with it.”

  The Crown Prince’s dry comment earned a chuckle from Shadowdancer. “Hmmm, yes, I think I know of what you speak. Though I find their mouthiness rather adorable.”

  Ashayna mumbled under her breath, something that sounded a lot like insufferable males.

  Still in awe of Sorsha’s miraculous recovery, Shadowdancer slowly placed his arm under her shoulders, another under her knees and lifted her to his chest, blanket and all. She continued to sleep, but murmured something beyond his range of hearing and turned her face into his chest. With Sorsha secure in his arms, he folded his legs under himself. It was easier to cuddle her this way.

  “The Falcon Staff said healing Sorsha would go easier if she returned to human form—something about the effects of blood loss and a smaller body,” Sorntar said from where he still sat on the bench. “Your Oracle helped as well, said it didn’t want to lose one of its Harbingers so soon.”

  “But how?” Shadowdancer cast curious glances between the Crown Prince and Sorsha. Yes, she was very much alive, now. But he’d been certain she’d died. “There’s no way to heal Death.”

  Sorntar bobbed his head in ascent. “Death, no, that isn’t something even Ashayna can unmake with her powers as the Destroyer. But when the Oracle made you and Sorsha its Harbingers, it gave another gift—a preservation spell. You may have felt the cold as the magic triggered. When the spell sensed Sorsha’s heart failing, it preserved her body, spirit, and memories until the Oracle could repair the damage to her body.” The Crown Prince tilted his head to one side, looking Shadowdancer up and down. “I heard what you did to that Acolyte. If you hadn’t attacked when you did, Sorsha would have been lost as the Acolyte would have fed, draining the spell.”

  A cold sweat trickled down Shadowdancer’s human spine at the Phoenix’s words. “I hadn’t known—I only raged, wanting to hurt something as much as I hurt.”

  Ashayna cleared her throat, her expression softening into something gentler. “When you have both recovered, you’ll regain the ability to shapeshift, and take which ever form you wish for short times, though you’ll always be the Oracle’s Harbingers. At least that’s what the Oracle claimed.”

  “Thank you.” He really didn’t know what else to say.

  Sorntar stood and shook his wings out before tucking them tight to his back. “We’ll leave you now that you’re awake and recovering. The Elders have graciously asked for an audience with the ‘Judge’ and the ‘Destroyer’, if we’d be so inclined. I don’t think they quite know what to do with us yet,” Prince Sorntar made a vague gesture at his chest, and then he tapped Shadowdancer in the same spot. “I think they’re afraid.”

  Shadowdancer looked down upon his chest. An intricate twisted design was branded there. He’d once seen a sketch of the mark that denoted Members of the Twelve while he was still a young colt studying his history. But he recognized it easily enough. With a shaking hand he pushed aside a corner of Sorsha’s blanket, revealing first the soft pale skin of her shoulder then the upper swell of her breast. She bore a mark twin to his.

  Sorsha murmured something in her sleep, a sweet slurred sound that melted his heart. He tightened his arms around her, but transferred his attention to where Sorntar stood looking on with a curiously tender expression.

  Shadowdancer coughed to clear the tightness in his throat. That Sorntar had referred to himself as the Judge and Ashayna, the Destroyer, must mean they were healed and the Twelve once again had their leaders restored to them. “So I take it you and Ashayna overcame whatever darkness tainted you?” He was never really clear on what blight had beset these two, for it had occurred around the same time as when Trensler first set his Acolytes upon them all. And then, he’d been too busy trying to keep Sorsha alive and his own hide in one piece to dwell overly long on the problems of others.

  With a shiver that coursed down the length of his wings, Sorntar released a shaky sigh as his gaze took on a faraway look. “Yes. My Larnkin still carried…damages…within it from the last time the Twelve walked the land. Even the passage of entire ages hadn’t been enough to heal those scars. When my Larnkin awoke almost a moon cycle ago, he…” Sorntar gave a helpless shrug, “He had issues and an agenda of his own. He took control of me, but Ashayna’s love overcame and banished his darkness, healing him.”

  Shadowdancer notice Ashayna’s cheeks had taken on a rosy hue, but she stepped up to Sorntar and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then before the Phoenix could respond, his human bondmate marched for the tent flap, calling in a gruff voice for him to hurry up and move his princely feathered ass—the Elders were waiting for them.

  The Crown Prince merely looked amused, and then gave Shadowdancer a companionable pat on the shoulder before turning to follow his bondmate. He was almost to the exit when he called over his shoulder. “Come join us when you and Sorsha feel up to facing the elders—we’ll be in need of reinforcements, I imagine. And then we must try to heal the Falcon Staff.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The rhythmic tug of a soft bristled brush being pulled through her hair shattered the remnants of Sorsha’s dream. She blinked open sleep heavy eyes, and try as she might, she couldn’t remember where she was. But the strong arm around her back, and the other pulling the brush throu
gh her hair, belonged to Shadowdancer so she wasn’t too concerned about the where.

  “You’re awake?” He sounded nearly as relaxed as she felt, so there couldn’t be any immediate danger waiting to sweep in and steal her contentment.

  “Hmmm, depends.”

  “On what?” He chuckled, the sound more felt than heard with her cheek and ear pressed against his chest.

  “If I awake fully, is someone or something going to demand we go on another suicidal quest?” Memories were stirring and they were not overly pleasant ones.

  Shadowdancer loosed another deep chuckle. “I think we might be granted a few days of rest and relaxation, beyond that, I can’t say.”

  “Oh,” Sorsha managed the one word before a big yawn cracked her jaw. “So I take it we both survived. I thought I was dead for sure, and then when I woke up here, I thought you’d died, too, and this was whatever comes next…”

  “I understand how you feel.” Shadowdancer resumed brushing her hair. “I thought I was dead when I first woke up as well, but between the Oracle and the Falcon Staff, we both were healed to battle again another day. I was told when you recover fully you’ll again become the Oracle’s Harbinger, with the full use of all your magic.”

  “But I remember the bolts from the crossbow…and then the deep cold of death creeping upon me.”

  “I was told the Oracle gave us another ‘gift’ when it made us its Harbingers.” His eyes took on a faraway look, as if he was remembering something from long ago, or perhaps, a time he’d rather not remember. “A preservation spell—one which triggers when it senses our heart is about to stop. As I understand it, the spell suspends the last moment of life, allowing the Oracle to heal either of us at a later time.”

  “Ah. Handy, that,” What else could she say, she wondered? To be so close to death, and then pulled back to the living, it was power beyond anything she knew. But for all that, she realized one thing. “I’m grateful.”

  “No more so than I.” Shadowdancer’s arms tightened around her.

  She curved her fingers around his bicep, holding him just as fiercely, admitting they had reason for being a little clingy. Hadn’t she died once today? Or was it longer ago than a day? She had no real sense of time. At the moment, she wasn’t so much concerned with how long she’d been unconscious as how long her recovery might take. She leaned forward to nuzzle him under his jaw.

  “So we can’t shapeshift until we’re recovered?” Even she heard the note of disappointment in her voice.

  Shadowdancer chuckled again. “No. But don’t sound so disappointed. I think there is someone else here you’d like to see and spend time with. There will be time for us later. For now I’m just happy to have the chance to walk beside you again.”

  A smile pulled at her lips, his words warming her heart more. “So, who is here that I’ll want to see?”

  “If you want to know, you’ll just have to come,” Shadowdancer’s demeanor switched to playful. “It’s a surprise—one I dare not spoil for fear someone will try to make my life miserable in retaliation.”

  With that he stood, pulling her up with him and started for the tent flap. Sorsha, unable to slow his overeager progress, almost found herself dragged from the tent in nothing but a silky robe and bare feet.

  “Whoa, there!” Sorsha tugged on her hand as she dug her heels into the thick carpet underfoot. “Can I get dressed first? Boots would be nice.” She tightened the sash. Normally, she wouldn’t be too worried about modesty since Santhyrians didn’t even understand the concept, and the rest of the Elemental races seemed to share their somewhat cavalier attitude concerning humanity’s need for layers of clothing. But if she was about to meet persons of importance, she’d prefer to do it fully dressed.

  Shadowdancer regarded her with a scowl for having postponed his surprise, but he shrugged and let her dress without comment.

  Outside it was midmorning, and the day was bright, warm, and more beautiful because Shadowdancer was walking beside her. She cast a subtle look up at him out of the corner of her eye. Granted, she felt like a child next to him, but their present physical differences couldn’t put a damper on her happiness.

  “So where is this surprise?”

  With a mysterious look, he simply stepped to one side. She looked beyond him to where he pointed.

  She spotted the exotic silhouette of a Phoenix with his back to her first. His broad wings blocked whoever he talked with from Sorsha’s view. Then he shifted a wing and looked over his shoulder and smiled, nodding to both her and Shadowdancer. The Crown Prince of the Phoenix was as strikingly handsome as she remembered.

  Then Sorntar moved to one side, revealing who Sorsha had barely allowed herself to hope would be there. Ashayna covered the distance with her scout’s long-legged, ground-eating stride, the one that even most human soldiers had trouble matching over any distance.

  “Ash!” Sorsha’s brain moved faster than her legs, but belatedly she broke into a run, almost tackling her older sister.

  With a grunt, Ashayna absorbed the impact, maintaining their balance so they didn’t tumble to the ground. “Easy,” Ashayna laughed, “Don’t give Sorntar ideas. He’s fond of play fighting. One person tackling me a day is enough.”

  “Ash, what happened with you and Sorntar? The Oracle said Sorntar had been corrupted.” Realizing she might have reason to fear, Sorsha shifted her gaze to the Crown Prince, but honestly, he didn’t look all that dangerous. For all his height, massive wings, and long tail, he was still lithely built, somewhat like a human—a far cry from the muscular bulk of one of the Santhyrians or wolf-like Lupwyns.

  “Yes,” Ashayna said after a slight hesitation. “His Larnkin carried a darkness no one was aware he possessed, but Sorntar’s Larnkin is healed now…it’s a long story. One I’ll gladly tell you in full at a later time, but there is something we must do that can’t wait much longer. We need to heal the Falcon Staff. With her help we might have the power to face the Dead King and free Lamarra without bloodshed.” Ashayna pulled away until they were at arm’s length, giving her a once over. “Sorntar said you were recovered enough to aid with healing the Staff. I wanted to judge that myself.”

  Sorsha eyed her older sister. “I’ve come this far—became a Harbinger, rescued the Staff, was almost killed by the Acolytes. But I survived all that…I’m a Stonemantle. And no one, not even you, will keep me from finishing this.” Her fists had clenched at some point; she forced them to relax at her sides.

  Ashayna just laughed and then looked over her shoulder at Sorntar. “Your Larnkin is correct, Sorsha is healed enough to help. And while she might not be fit for a battle, I’d rather not fight and find out, which is what will happen if I try to block her from joining the circle.”

  “While my Larnkin, Itharann, is sometimes…misguided, seldom is he wrong when it comes to knowledge.” Sorntar’s expression held a hint of shame or embarrassment, Sorsha wasn’t sure which.

  Looking between the two, Sorsha wondered just what Ash had had to endure to ‘heal’ Sorntar’s Larnkin. Ash had a way of understating the difficulty of events.

  “Join the circle?” Sorsha asked instead, sensing some deeper meaning to the words.

  Sorntar, who had come to stand at his bondmate’s shoulder, took a half step back and extended one wing to where a large group of Santhyrians milled near the river.

  “What are they doing?” Sorsha squinted. Shadowdancer’s sire was there. With Darkmoon’s coloring and build so close to his son’s, he was easy for her to recognize even over a distance. And the Santhyrian closest to his flank might have been Shadowdancer’s dam, Windrunner. It looked almost like the herd was arranging themselves in a large circle, but Sorsha couldn’t discern exact details over the distance.

  “They’re waiting for us to join them—if you’re ready, we can go now.” Sorntar smiled up at Shadowdancer this time. “You’re family herd is much less suspicious than the Elders, even after what Itharann did to Winter’s Frost and Flame.”
>
  Alarm kicked her heart into a faster pace. “You did something to my friends?”

  Sorntar’s gentle smile faltered and vanished.

  Ashayna stepped forward, taking up a protective stance in front of her bondmate. “Itharann enslaved Winter’s Frost and Flame to do his bidding when he was still under the influence of darkness. Sorntar was as much a slave as the two Santhyrians. You know that ‘long story’ I promised to tell you later, this is a big part of it. Both Santhyrians have recovered and forgiven Sorntar. Let it go for now. They are with the Herd; you’ll see them shortly.”

  “What Ashayna says is true.” Shadowdancer placed a hand on Sorsha’s shoulder and squeezed. “My sister came to visit me while you still slept. She told me a little of what she and Summer Flame endured at Itharann’s hands. And while they will never forget what occurred, they have come to accept that each of us must face destiny in our own way, though I think Winter’s Frost has always possessed more fortitude and forgiveness than I.”

  “Forgive me, Prince Sorntar.” Sorsha mumbled a swift and mostly heartfelt apology. “I didn’t intend to imply guilt. Your words merely surprised me.” What she really wanted was to ply Ash for more information, but she realized if Sorntar, Flame, and Winter’s Frost had all been slaves to a Larnkin, there was a good chance Ashayna had been enslaved at one time, too. Sorsha would let it go. But she would learn what had happened to her older sister as soon as there was time. For now, Sorsha allowed herself to be led out to where the Herd waited. Shadowdancer trotted at her side.

  As promised, both Summer Flame and Winter’s Frost broke away from Darkmoon’s side and came over at Sorsha’s approach. She eyed them critically. They did seem unharmed by whatever ordeal they had endured.

  “Hello, little human. I’m delighted to see you survived your trials.” Winter’s Frost bobbed her head in greeting, and then ambled over for a scratch under her chin and another on the withers. After a few more scratches, a snort, and an all over shake, the mare stepped to the side, her eyes dark with the shadow of old sorrows. “There was a time I didn’t think any of us would see each other again. Never have I been so glad to be wrong.”