Harbinger

by Nicole Conway

  He blinked. “For what?”

  “For trying. For not giving up.” I nibbled my bottom lip. “Just tell me what to do.”

  Standing next to me, Jaevid put his hand on my back and steered me to the bedside. I couldn’t stop myself from shaking as he guided one of my hands to touch Phillip’s. That contact, the warmth of his skin against mine, made my heart swell with hope.

  I laced my fingers through his and squeezed. I tried not to look at how each finger was tipped with a pointed black nail that looked more like a claw.

  “I’m ready,” I whispered.

  Jaevid didn’t reply. He placed his palms over Phillip’s forehead. Warm green light glowed between his fingers, only lasting for a second or two. Then Phillip’s eyelids fluttered. His mouth twitched, and his brow furrowed. The sound of his breathing got louder and more agitated.

  Jaevid moved back, giving us some space. He gestured for me to stay put—but I had no intention of going anywhere. Not now. I had to know.

  The scrape of a blade leaving its sheath broke the silence, coming from behind me where Eirik stood by the door.

  Phillip’s eyes flew open, vertical pupils narrowing to slits. A beastly snarl rumbled from his throat as he sprang into a crouch, snatching away from my touch. He scrambled to get away from us, backing up until he fell off the far side of the bed and crawled into the corner. His movements were fast and fluid, more like an animal’s than a man’s.

  “Phillip! It’s okay,” I cried out. “You’re safe now.”

  He bared pointed canine teeth, hissing as he tried mashing himself farther into the corner of the room like a frightened feral beast. His long tail flicked and curled around his legs as he sank down into a squat, strange eyes darting between the three of us. I could see fear in the human features of his face. It was primal, feral, but it was still something I recognized.

  “He’s afraid,” Jaevid said quietly, confirming my suspicions. “Talk to him again. Let him hear your voice.”

  “Phillip, do you remember me?” I steeled my fractured nerves and cautiously moved a few steps closer. “Do you remember what happened at Barrowton? You saved me. Hilleddi was going to kill me. But you came just in time.”

  I rounded the corner of the bed and stopped. Phillip had turned his face away, practically mashing his dark, sinewy body into the corner as far as he could. One wide, petrified silver eye still stared back at me. He was panting hard and his whole body shivered, making those gleaming flecks along his arms, legs, and chest shimmer in the lamplight.

  “They got both of us,” I continued, keeping my tone soft. “They took us from Barrowton. We were trapped inside the back of that wagon and … you told me about that night at Aubren’s debut ball. Do you remember?”

  His head turned ever so slightly to look back at me.

  “I’m so sorry, Phillip. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

  His long, pointed ears perked up as he tipped his head to the side a little.

  “Please,” I begged. “Don’t leave me. I need you. I’ve always needed you. You have to remember.”

  He blinked owlishly, head tilting the other way. Meanwhile, his sterling eyes squinted, and his brows knitted.

  I chanced a few more steps closer before coming to my knees in front of him. My hand shook as I stretched it out into the open air between us.

  Turning his face away again, Phillip’s lip twitched into a half-snarl. Then his expression scrunched. He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, burying his face in his hands. I could hear his teeth clicking as he gnashed them.

  My heart pounded wildly. “Phillip?”

  He let out a low, thunderous growl—then a gasping, choking pant.

  Gradually, inch-by-inch, his hands lowered. His gaze tracked around the room until it met mine again, pupils wider and mouth slightly open.

  I held my breath.

  “J-Jenna?” His voice was huskier, laced with an inhuman growl. But it was his voice.

  Tears welled in my eyes. “I’m here.”

  He dropped back onto his rear end, sitting with long legs sprawled and his back against the corner. “W-Where? Where am I?” Suddenly, his gaze roamed down to his hands, his legs, and his … tail.

  Phillip let out a feline shriek of horror.

  “It’s okay!” I lost myself and darted in closer, taking his face into my hands. “Just calm down. It’s okay now. You’re all right.”

  “Are you insane? How exactly is this all right?” He wheezed, staring back at me with terror. “G-Gods … what did they … what did they do to me?” He started to sob.

  My composure broke. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, burying my face against the side of his neck. His shuddering, broken breaths and racing pulse engulfed me as he hugged me back. For a few minutes, it was all we could manage—just sitting there, holding one another. It was all I’d thought about, all I’d wanted, since the moment we’d been separated.

  “I’m a monster,” Phillip rasped.

  “No, don’t say that. It’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” He seized my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. “I have a tail, Jenna! And my hands, my skin … Gods, look at my feet!”

  He wiggled his bizarre toes. They did resemble cat’s paws somewhat. Each toe was tipped in a curled black claw much longer than the ones on his hands—which might have passed for normal at first glance apart from their color. The whole of his foot was longer, and I’d noticed when he moved that he tended to carry his weight on the balls of his feet.

  Okay, so they were a bit strange—maybe even stranger than the tail. But not by much.

  My shoulders sagged as I laughed.

  He took it the wrong way. “This is funny to you? What the hell, Jenna?”

  I couldn’t help it. And I couldn’t stop. I laughed so hard I choked. “I-I’m sorry,” I wheezed. “It’s not funny. Not really. I’m just so happy.”

  He frowned, arching one of his eyebrows in a dubious look he’d given me a thousand times—usually right before I did something reckless. Seeing it again was more than I had dared to dream of.

  “I was so afraid you were gone. I thought I’d lost you forever.” I leaned forward to rest my forehead against his shoulder. “But you’re here. And you’re worried about having a tail.”

  Phillip’s body twitched with a sarcastic snort. “You say it like it’s a perfectly normal problem to have.”

  My body relaxed against him. My eyes felt so heavy, as though the fear and dread building up to this moment had been the only forces sustaining me. With them gone, I was drained.

  “Oh, hush,” I murmured as I embraced the calm, simple weariness. “We’ve never been very good at normal, have we?”

  “No,” he replied softly. “I suppose not.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Explaining Phillip to the servants, staff, and of course—Baroness Adeline—was going to be a challenge. No one in Maldobar had ever seen anything like him, and to be perfectly honest, he looked scary. The slate gray and black skin speckled in tiny shining flecks, intensely fierce features, and fang-like incisors were a lot to take in. Not to mention he was essentially a giant compared to the rest of us.

  The servants tending our chambers were terrified of him, even after Jaevid explained that he wasn’t going to hurt anyone. I believed that with every fiber of my being. I knew when I looked into Phillip’s eyes I was seeing the man I’d grown up with. But the others didn’t know him like I did, and even my dragonrider brothers regarded him with tense uncertainty when he came out into the main room.

  It was strange to see all seven feet of him cowering behind me, looking at the others with his slender ears drooping and his peculiar, steel gray eyes as wide as moons. The clothes Miri had brought for him only barely fit. The tunic was stretched to the seams over his hard, muscular shoulders and the sleeves were much too short. The pants had the same problem, only coming to about his calf, and w
e’d had to cut a hole for his … um … tail.

  Miri and I had given up entirely on packing his misshapen feet into boots, although being barefoot didn’t seem to bother him. He had soft, feline-like pads on the balls and heels of his feet, as well as one on each toe. His toes were shaped more like paws, and since he moved with his weight supported on the balls of his feet, wearing boots or shoes would have prevented that and probably made things more awkward for him.

  “I can feel vibrations in the ground,” he muttered as he flicked a glance down at me. “And the smells—the sounds!”

  “The venom’s had an effect on many things.” Jaevid approached us with a smile, offering a heavy iron poker from the fireplace. “Try this.”

  “I’ve never been very good with weapons,” Phillip mumbled as he took it reluctantly.

  Jaevid’s smile widened. “I don’t want you to fight with it. I want you to break it.”

  “Break it?”

  “Yes. Just humor me. Try cracking it in half.”

  Phillip swallowed, glancing around at the rest of us. My dragonrider brothers, Aedan, and Miri had all gathered around to watch. I must admit, I was curious, too.

  Phillip swished the end of his tail. The black fur on it was as sleek as it was shiny, catching the light like silk as he flicked it back and forth. I wondered if he was even conscious that he was doing that. Would he be upset if I tried petting it?

  Taking the fire poker in both hands, Phillip furrowed his brow and started to concentrate. The iron poker snapped in half instantly—as though it were as brittle as a toothpick. He dropped the pieces in surprise, his ears drooping a little more. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, uh,” he stammered.

  My jaw dropped.

  Eirik let out a nervous bark of a laugh.

  Aedan looked like he might bolt from the room at any second. Of all of us, he was the only one who had any experience with switchbeasts. Maybe that was why he was standing a lot farther back than the rest of us.

  “You’ll have to be mindful of your strength,” Jaevid warned as he stooped to pick up the pieces of the poker. “We’re much more fragile than you are now. It’ll take some getting used to.”

  “So long as he doesn’t snap anyone’s hand off when he shakes it.” Eirik snickered.

  Phillip’s expression dimmed. I caught him stealing another peek in my direction, and it was as though I could read the worry written all over his sharply-featured face.

  “You won’t hurt me.” I smiled as I took his hand. “I trust you.”

  Phillip turned his face away and didn’t reply.

  Baroness Adeline had requested that everyone join her for dinner tonight in the keep’s dining room. I had no doubt as to what she wanted to talk about. It was the same thing weighing on all our minds now: What should we do next? If Reigh and Aubren hadn’t escaped, should we mount another rescue attempt? Or should we leave them to their fate? Should we try going back to Halfax to reason with my father or spend our efforts attempting to rally a force large enough to take back Northwatch?

  The latter wasn’t even an option, really. After what it had taken just to get Phillip and myself out of that hellhole, trying to take on the brunt of the Tibran army was nothing short of insanity. We only had four battle-ready dragonriders at our disposal, counting Jaevid. Eirik was no longer injured, but he didn’t have a dragon anymore. Even with a demigod on our side, it seemed hopeless.

  “I … think I prefer to stay here,” Phillip murmured. He settled down on the rug right in front of the crackling hearth with his legs crossed.

  I frowned. “Aren’t you hungry? It’ll be fine, I promise. They’ll get used to it, you’ll see.”

  He shook his head a little. “No. It’s not that. I just need a moment to think,” he murmured. “Besides, I don’t have much to contribute to a war meeting. The only city I knew anything about defending is gone.”

  My heart sank. I hated seeing him so hopeless.

  “Come on—don’t make that face.” He forced an awkward smile.

  “I’m not much use at a war meeting, either. What if I stay and keep him company?” Miri offered.

  That did make me feel a little better about it. I didn’t want him to sit up here all by himself. “All right.” I sighed.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eirik’s mouth scrunch unhappily and his eyes narrow. He didn’t say anything, and I had a suspicion he wasn’t only worried about her safety.

  “Let’s not keep our hostess waiting, then,” Jaevid suggested. He led the way out of the North Wing with the rest of us following like chicks behind a mother hen. Eirik stuck close to my side and was unusually quiet. He still hadn’t shaken off that scrunched look of discontent.

  I decided to dig at him a little. I still owed him for that comment about my dress. “So, Miri thinks you’re very funny.”

  His whole face flushed beet red. “She said that?”

  I shrugged, suppressing a smile. “She may have. Or maybe she was talking about Haldor. I can’t remember.”

  Eirik’s expression soured into a pout. “You’re cruel.”

  “And you’re a terrible flirt,” I quipped.

  “It’s not like that. I’m not just messing with her.”

  “Oh?”

  “I … like her. She’s … you know.” He shrugged and looked away.

  “Eirik Lachlan, the poet.” I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh. Somehow, attracting the attention of the rest of our group seemed a little too mean, even for him.

  “Oh, shut up.” He sulked. “I keep thinking of things I could say to her. Nice things. But whenever there’s a chance my mind goes blank and I end up staring at her and not saying anything.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “I know.”

  I nudged his shoulder with mine, offering some playful reassurance. “When did this happen? Before or after I got here?”

  “Before,” he confessed. “She took care of me when I was injured. I must have looked like a lost cause, pathetic with my leg all crunched up, but she looked after me anyway. She sat by my bedside. Fed me. Talked to me. She even brought in some cards so I could teach her to play.”

  “And have you thanked her?”

  He started gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “No. Maybe I should.”

  “That might be a nice gesture.” I nudged him again. “Open with that. And then tell her she’s pretty, or compliment her smile, or tell her how much her kindness meant to you. Something simple.”

  Eirik arched an eyebrow suspiciously. “Just like that, eh?”

  “Sometimes simple is best,” I replied. “And in your case, simple is probably the only thing you can manage. So, skip the poetry and romantic ballads for now. Clearly you’re not ready for that.”

  “Did I mention you’re cruel?”

  I grinned. “You have no idea.”

  Baroness Adeline had a grand spread laid out for us in the dining room. The rich, savory smells of roasted lamb and goose, succulent puddings, spiced boiled potatoes, and freshly-baked bread made my stomach howl. We’d eaten well on hearty soups and stews in our chambers, but this was a real feast. I couldn’t wait to dive in. I hadn’t eaten food this good since I’d been in Halfax.

  From her seat at the head of the table, the baroness gazed around at all of us with a thoughtful purse to her lips. She was a quiet woman, petite like Miri, but with a much more cautious demeanor. Apart from those few streaks of gray in her hair, she was still lovely for someone closer to my father’s age. Maybe the lack of sunlight and cold air in this part of the kingdom had helped preserve her youthfulness. I wondered why she hadn’t bothered trying to remarry. Surely she could, even if she was too old to bear children. She already had an heir in Miri, right? And it shouldn’t have been too difficult for a woman with her connections to attract a whole flock of worthy suitors.

  Her dark eyes fixed on Jaevid when he took the seat next to hers. I sat on her other side, an
d the rest of our company filled in the remaining chairs—except for the two on the other end. Phillip’s and Miri’s. The baroness flicked her gaze to those empty seats, seeming to notice her niece’s absence.

  “I’m pleased to see you all mended and healthy again.” The baroness smiled, once again staring at Jaevid. “Miri has kept me informed on your progress. I hope she’s been useful to you.”

  “Yes, she’s wonderful!” Eirik answered—a little too quickly.

  I kicked his leg under the table and shot him a look. Down, boy.

  “And Duke Phillip Derrick? How is he getting on?” she continued without missing a beat.

  Haldor shifted in his seat. Eirik cleared his throat and fidgeted with the tableware. Calem, as usual, didn’t even blink. I quietly envied his ability to reveal absolutely no expression whatsoever while my face grew hot and I shrank down in my seat some.

  “He’s … still coming to terms with what happened,” Jaevid replied. I marveled at his ability to be both vague and honest at the same time.

  “The staff tells me his physical appearance has not changed.” Baroness Adeline didn’t mince words.

  Jaevid stiffened. “Unfortunately, no. I’m afraid that in that regard, there is nothing that can be done. He won’t deteriorate any further, but what’s been done to him will remain.”

  “That is truly a shame.” The baroness let out a small sigh, gesturing for the servants to begin serving us our first course. “He would have made an appropriate suitor for Miri.”

  My stomach clenched. Under the table, my hands curled into fists. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eirik’s jaw stiffen.

  Jaevid spoke up. “Actually, I think he already had someone in mind to court. Not that I’m much of a judge—I hardly know him. But during my efforts to stop the venom from taking his mind, I spent a lot of time immersed in his thoughts.” He met my gaze from across the table. “There was a certain lady who appeared many times.”

  My cheeks burned. I stared down into a plate of food as a servant slid it under my nose.

  “Is that so?” The baroness’s eyebrows lifted as though she were surprised. “She will be greatly distressed to hear of his condition, then. I doubt he will be able to stay on as duke in his current state.”