Shapeshifters

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  I sighed, exhausted from the events of the day, frightened by how they were progressing and not willing to fight. “Rei …” I hugged him gently, a gesture too familiar for any avian setting, which made Rei tense for a moment before he hugged me back. It was nice to be in his arms and to abandon for a moment the reserve I was always expected to maintain. “Thank you for watching out for me.”

  “Danica—”

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” I continued, before Rei could finish whatever he was about to say. “But this time, you needn’t worry about what happened. No threats passed between us—just talk. Two of us trying to figure out how to end this stupid war.”

  Rei nodded. “Danica, I—”

  He broke off, stepping away from me and falling back into the formal warrior’s posture as my mother entered, golden eyes cold as ice.

  “Shardae, explain,” she said shortly.

  I resisted the desire to sigh in annoyance. “Mother, may we discuss this tomorrow? I would like some sleep before I need to speak to the Mistari Disa again.”

  “I would like to know what Zane Cobriana was doing in your private chambers,” the Tuuli Thea responded.

  “He came to talk,” I answered, trying not to sound petulant when I was so exhausted that I was probably swaying on my feet. “He was worried that if we did not communicate first, the meeting with the Mistari Disa would go the same way tomorrow as it did tonight.”

  “And well he should be. It was an atrocious suggestion then, and it will still be tomorrow.”

  “Are you so certain it can’t work?”

  My mother’s eyes widened, and she lapsed into the informal in her shock. “Danica, you can’t seriously be considering …” She trailed off. “It’s impossible, and I won’t allow it.”

  “I will be Tuuli Thea of my own right in a few weeks,” I responded. “You don’t need to allow me anything.”

  “For the moment, I do,” she argued. With a glance at my guards, she ordered, “Andreios, get your flight together, and send the Mistari Disa our apologies. We will be leaving tonight.”

  “Mother!”

  “Shardae, there will be no discussion on this point,” she said sharply. “We are bringing you home if I need to have the Royal Flight hold you by your pinfeathers the entire way.”

  “What about the serpiente?” I protested. “We should at least—”

  “Shardae, obey me!” To that final tone there was to be no argument.

  My head lowered so she would not see the fury on my face, I forced out the words, “Yes, Mother.”

  THOUGH I WAS INFURIATED BY THEIR REFUSAL to listen to anything, I understood the response my mother and guards had given to the Mistari’s proposal. In avian society, a young woman was often promised to her future alistair shortly after birth. The two grew up together, he raised to be a guide and protector, and she raised to trust him implicitly. He was expected to walk the fine line of an avian gentleman, respecting her strength and sheltering her from the harshest of her world at the same time.

  Vasili had been the son of two of the Ravens. By virtue of his position as my alistair, I was closer to him than any of my family or friends.

  Trying not to think of what I could not change, for the next fortnight I threw myself into preparing for the position I would soon officially assume as Tuuli Thea. Those duties took up most of my hours, and when they lessened, I trained with the Royal Flight.

  My mother had never approved of my being taught to fight, but neither had she approved of my walking the fields where the skills were necessary. Rei had long ago insisted that I learn some fighting skills, and now that I was restricted to the Keep, I used those lessons as an excuse to work off excess energy. Naturally, I could never best his people, but my skills were extensive enough to startle many members of the Royal Flight.

  Half a month after our retreat from the Mistari, I was approached by a young girl no more than sixteen. She was slender and well built, and the fire in her eyes told me the question she was going to ask before she asked it.

  “Shardae?” she greeted me, with the half-curtsy that was appropriate here. I nodded in acknowledgment. “My name is Erica Silvermead. I spoke to the Tuuli Thea earlier today, and she referred me to you. If there is a place available, milady, I wish permission to join the Royal Flight.”

  I gazed at the girl in resignation, not surprise. She was young, but no younger than so many of our warriors were when they began—no younger than so many of our warriors were when they died.

  “Do you have any training?” I asked.

  “Some, milady,” the girl responded. As we spoke, I sized her up. Whatever training she had had was not formal, or she would have been standing at a soldier’s ready, left hand gripping right wrist. “My brother taught me what he could.” The unspoken words before he died hung at the end of that sentence.

  “Follow me, and you may present yourself to the Royal Flight for consideration,” I said, though I suspected this girl was of a lower class than the Royal Flight usually accepted.

  Erica was a sparrow, a breed almost never admitted to the Royal Flight, since both their human and avian forms had a tendency to be light and unsuited to fighting. However, Andreios would make the final decision based on her abilities. If he thought her an ill fit for his elite group, there might still be room for her among one of the other flights.

  Changing into my hawk form, I led the way down through the open circle in the floor and to the ground level, where the Royal Flight was currently sparring without weapons—a form of fighting that was an avian soldier’s worst nightmare. My kind had the advantage of flight. If we were lucky, a battle could be finished with a volley of arrows shot from above. However, a clipped wing or lost bow could bring a soldier to the ground, where he would instantly be surrounded by an enemy who had every advantage.

  Rei noticed my entrance and approached. I saw him take in the girl at my side. “Are you looking for me, Shardae?” he asked.

  “If there is space to train her, Erica Silvermead would like consideration to join the Royal Flight.”

  Rei’s brows tensed slightly, as if he was trying not to frown. “Silvermead … I believe I met your brother once, Lady Erica.”

  She nodded, keeping her head down a moment to compose herself. “You saved his life, nearly five years ago; he spoke of it often. I’m surprised you remember.”

  “He is quite a soldier, if I recall,” Rei mused.

  “He was,” Erica amended softly.

  “Ah.” Rei nodded, bringing the conversation back into safe, neutral territory. “Come this way, and we’ll see what kind of fighter you are, Silvermead.”

  He tossed her a blunted practice blade that, while not sharp enough to cut flesh, could cause plenty of bruises; I had earned enough of those myself during Rei’s training sessions.

  Erica’s eyes lit up and she barely managed to avoid grinning.

  “Try not to look so gleeful,” Rei chastised lightly. “Remember your goal, Erica: to protect your Tuuli Thea and her heirs, at the cost of your own life if necessary. You are a warrior. That means you will go onto a field someday soon, and you will kill another person.”

  Erica’s gaze fell, but I could tell she was not overly daunted by the prospect of murder. Politely, responded, “I apologize, sir, but one can hardly call serpiente people.”

  Rei nodded, not arguing. Erica was not unusual; this was a frame of mind most avians, children and adults, held strongly. However, Rei did ask, “If I bring you into a fight, can I trust you to retreat if ordered?” Erica tried very hard to hide her annoyance at the idea, but did not succeed. “I cannot allow you in my flight if you will not leave a fight when told to do so.”

  “Does this flight frequently retreat, sir?” Erica asked acidly.

  Rei looked at me for a moment. “We are to protect Lady Nacola and her heirs,” he explained, for what sounded like the hundredth time. “Frequently, that involves getting our charge off the field and out of enemy sights, and then fol
lowing her. We are no good to the Tuuli Thea if we die for our pride.”

  “Yes, sir,” Erica answered sullenly.

  Her grin was gone, and her gaze was still down when Rei drew the knife from his side.

  Erica reacted before the blade had even fully left the sheath, and soon the two were in a flurry of attack and riposte that made my head spin in the attempt to follow. Rei was being cautious, testing his new charge, but I could tell he was using more effort to defend himself than he usually had to with novices.

  To end the fight he got inside her guard and pressed the blade against her throat. Erica’s blade was useless, trapped against her side.

  She, however, did not admit defeat.

  She passed the blade behind her back, transferring it to her left hand, and instantly it was against Rei’s chest, the blade pressing just over his solar plexus.

  “You’re dead, Erica,” Rei said.

  “I’m not alone,” she responded easily, slightly breathless, skin flushed with adrenaline.

  Rei nodded, acknowledging the point. “You have some good moves,” he admitted. “Care to try it again?”

  This time he did not rebuke her grin; not waiting to recover, Erica returned her blade to her dominant hand and began the fight anew.

  Rei did not check his ability in order to test hers, but while Erica did not have a chance to attack, she defended herself well.

  As evening progressed, I made my way to the second-level court.

  The market was peppered with gossips; the court was filled with practiced scholars and speakers. Rhetoric replaced simple stories; ballads replaced the weepy tales. The serpiente’s recent attempts at peace had already become legend, and the argument about what they really wanted was still going on. The idea that they had been honest was never considered.

  After supper, the younger members of the court retired; had I not been heir to the Tuuli Thea, I would probably have been escorted out with the others. As it was, if I sat quietly I could hear the stories that the minstrels and scholars considered too indiscreet to share when the students were still in the room.

  Rei usually came to court at about this time, mostly to call attention to me and hush the conversation when he deemed it inappropriate for his charge’s ears, but tonight he was late. He sent another crow from his flight, but that young man had obviously not spent much time at court and was easily caught in the web of words all these speakers wove.

  As I sat silently on the edge of the court, not in my place at the center table, people forgot I was present. Soon the scene in the Mistari lands was being discussed: how Zane had kissed me—scandalous!—in full view of two of the Royal Flight—shocking!—and neither one had made a move to stop him until he was already gone.

  Though speculation about his motives and why the Royal Flight had reacted so slowly was a bit strong, the details were essentially correct; listening made me wonder how many of the other stories were true.

  “Shardae.”

  I jumped at the voice behind my left shoulder, as did the guard Rei had sent to accompany me.

  Rei dismissed the young guard with a displeased scowl, then simply said to me, “Considering how early you rise in the morning, I would be remiss if I did not point out to you how late it is getting.” In other words, he could not order me from the court—he had no authority to do that—but he had no intention of letting me stay to listen, either.

  Rei escorted me to my floor. Once, this level had housed all of my family: the Tuuli Thea, her pair bond and her sister and my own sister and brother in addition to me. Now, the empty rooms hung heavy with silence.

  I bid Rei good night; then, as I had done every evening since our visit to Mistari lands, I listened to Zane’s words over and over in my mind. Could he have been honest? I could not help fearing him for being the Diente, for the flames in his eyes and the fangs that were hidden but never gone from my mind. And yet I wanted so much to believe that he really wanted peace.

  I slipped out of the slacks and blouse I had worn to court, and into my favorite cotton nightgown. The pale rose color always made me feel as if I was curled up in a sunrise. Small comfort, but I needed it.

  DREAMS SLID INTO MY MIND SO SLOWLY I had no sense of falling asleep.

  Nightmare chased nightmare, until finally I was ten years old, on my knees on the crimson field, with two of the Royal Flight physically restraining me so I would not run to my sister’s side. They tried to be gentle, but I fought tooth and nail to get away, ignoring the chaos of battle surrounding us—

  I was dreaming, I realized.

  My sister had died nine years ago.

  Still, the smell of blood was so strong …

  I tried to wake up, but only succeeded in throwing myself into another lucid nightmare. I felt a serpent’s blade slice into my shoulder, saw an eleven-year-old Andreios—armed only with the bloody dagger he had taken from his father’s still-warm body—throw himself at the enemy to protect my eight-year-old self.

  I screamed as I saw the serpent start to uncoil to retaliate; I knew Rei would carry the scars from the serpent’s fangs in his skin for the rest of his life, and I could not stop myself from trying to change history.

  This time, instead of being knocked out, I was struck solidly in the gut by an enemy blade, knocked down with a choked cry of pain.

  Vasili caught my hand, and though his expression was usually cool and remote, distanced as the hardest warriors always got eventually, he let me see past the reserve to glimpse the affection and concern in his nearly black eyes.

  I was fifteen; he was seventeen. Vasili was not the warmest companion, but as he helped me to stand—not berating me for my foolishness in trying to find Rei’s younger sister even though we had both known from the start it was too late to help her—I loved him.

  I knew I was dreaming, but it was so good to see him again. I had missed him so much ….

  And then he was twisting away, his hand going for his weapon as he pushed me behind him so that he took the knife that had been thrown at me—

  Gregory Cobriana, clenching his teeth and looking away as he died, slowly. Rei, comforting as he could. I stood up as I had not done in real life and walked away. The dream phantom called after me, pleaded with me to stay, but I could not stand that again.

  And then it was Zane Cobriana before me, twin garnets pinning me in place as he said, “Please don’t scream.”

  Would I never wake up?

  I could never have done so in real life, but in the dream I wrenched my gaze from his and shoved him away. “What do you want?” I demanded.

  “I should think you would know that,” Zane answered simply.

  This was absurd. I wondered bitterly when this scene would turn to pain and violence like the others had. My nightmares had visited paths like this for years, one crystal-clear dream giving way to another until the morning, but until now they had always fallen apart the instant Zane Cobriana appeared. Now that I had seen him, spoken to him, my mind had more ammunition for nocturnal torments.

  Zane watched me, his expression wary.

  “You don’t seem dangerous enough to warrant my mother dragging me out of the Mistari camps in the middle of the night,” I commented to the specter.

  The real Zane Cobriana terrified me, but this one was not overly intimidating. If anything, he reminded me of Vasili. He projected a mask that was numbed to pain, but beneath it he was as fragile and tired of war as only a warrior could be.

  “I don’t?” Zane purred, a glint of amusement now showing in his red eyes.

  I began to pace. If I screamed and kept screaming, would I scream aloud? Would Rei come in and wake me? Or would the dream slow like molasses, as nightmares did, until it seemed I could do nothing but choke on the silence?

  “Danica, are you all right?” Zane asked, standing now, too, the skin between his eyebrows tensing with the hint of a frown.

  “Is there some reason I should be?” I nearly shouted in return. Zane winced, his gaze flickering
to the nearby doorway. “I just want to sleep. I don’t want to dream, because all I see then are the people I have lost. I don’t want to smell the stench of death and decay and rotten blood. I don’t want to hear the wet sputter of someone trying to breathe past pain. I don’t want to see dying children whenever I close my eyes. But I am nearly Tuuli Thea,” I said more quietly, “and once I am, that will be my entire life. War. Death. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

  For a brief moment the arrogance was gone from Zane’s expression, and he regarded me with what almost looked like respect.

  “If I knew how to grant that wish,” he finally answered, voice soft, “I would have done so already, before this damn war had taken so many from me, too. Friends, lovers, family; I would have saved them all if I knew how. But if we both want peace, I can’t believe that it is impossible to manage.”

  I caught him sizing me up, his gaze flickering down my form and up again. “Perhaps there is more to you than I see here, Danica,” Zane mused aloud. “More than the stoic avian poise and emotionless reserve.”

  He reached up and ran his fingers through my hair, which brought him alarmingly close. His wrapping an arm around my waist brought me even closer, and then he kissed me, this time not hesitant in the face of my recoil or hurried to avoid a knife from the Royal Flight.

  The sensation of his lips lingering over mine was startling; the light pressure of his body as he held me against himself was unexpected. He broke the kiss at the same time he pressed something into my hand.

  “Tomorrow afternoon, Danica. I’ll make sure the guards on the door are loyal and will let you in safely,” Zane said, voice intense despite the fact that my mind was barely following it. I could feel myself sliding into the next dream segment, and I shrank from it, knowing the next scene would probably be a lot bloodier than this one. “We can’t meet here in the open—your guards will kill me if they catch me—but I have enough control in the palace that we can make plans there … if you’ll come.”