Shapeshifters

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  A chill went down my spine. Since Danica and I divided our time between our two courts, I had grown used to avian politics, which were slightly more formal than my own, but even Danica did not hold herself that far above those she ruled. Our people had the right to question their monarchs’ judgment; their voices had kept tragedies from occurring in the past. The falcon civilization Valene described sounded horrific.

  “I could give you a course in falcon etiquette, but no matter what you do, Syfka will find some reason to disapprove of you,” Valene admitted. “You’ll either be rude or obsequious, stupid or arrogant. Falcons are raised with the idea that their kind is superior to any other. When it comes to magic, strength, stamina or recall, they are.”

  And well aware of it, I thought cynically, remembering Syfka’s arrogance. Even without a history of practicing black magic, the falcons gave the world good reason to hate them.

  “My advice is to treat Syfka courteously, and try to see to what she wants without completely disrupting the palace. Also, if A’isha’s hints are correct, it would be best if the falcon does not see Danica again.”

  “They might not respect either of us, but the falcons have definitely shown more of a preference for avians in the last few thousand years,” I pointed out. “Might Syfka behave more civilly with Danica?”

  Valene hesitated for an instant, but then met my gaze and said bluntly, “In Ahnmik, it’s a scandal if a gyrfalcon has a child with a peregrine, even if both are of equal rank. A match between, say, a hawk and a falcon, two very similar creatures, is seen as disgusting; any child born of them is considered mongrel, a travesty of nature. If Danica really is carrying your child, and Syfka realizes this, the falcon will be horrified. I don’t think she would harm it, but …” She trailed off, then finished, “The falcons prize children above almost anything, but Syfka might not see a cobra-hawk as a child.”

  I appreciated the warning, but at the same time, I knew my gaze was icy when I looked at Valene.

  Would my own people see the match the same way? If our child was born with onyx hair and golden eyes, would both serpiente and avians look at her with disgust for the cross, and sorrow for the loss of pure-blooded cobra or hawk features?

  What if the child was born a hawk like its mother, never to spread a cobra’s hood? Would I look at it and regret the loss of my own bloodline?

  A knock at the door made us both turn to find Andreios already stepping into the room.

  “Betsy is here,” he said. Before I could even move past him, he continued, “She was scandalized enough that I was sitting by Danica’s door when she arrived; I can guarantee you that she won’t allow you into the room until she is certain about Danica’s condition.”

  Despite her petite stature and habit of smoothing down the ruffled feathers at the back of her neck when agitated, Danica’s doctor, Betsy, was probably one of the most formidable women I had ever met. If Rei said she would not let me into the room, I knew I would have better luck arm-wrestling Syfka than fighting my way in.

  “Perhaps we should retreat to the main nest?” Rei suggested. Even though he knew no more than I did, the crow seemed perfectly calm. Avians always appeared calm; it was a talent they cultivated and respected. In situations like this, it was also damnably annoying.

  Valene took up the movement. “I will keep thinking, but I believe I’ve shared all the useful knowledge of falcons I have. I’m sorry it wasn’t more helpful.”

  We started upstairs, though I paused by Danica’s door, entertaining the notion of walking in and testing whether Betsy would really throw me out. I dismissed the idea quickly. One person I would always obey was the very respected doctor who was looking after the woman I loved. I trusted Betsy’s judgment, even though we occasionally disagreed on propriety.

  ONCE AGAIN A’ISHA GREETED US as we returned to the main portion of the nest.

  Her presence was helpful, as I could see most of the nest was preparing to interrogate us. Loudly enough for all those loitering nearby to hear, A’isha asked, “Betsy still has not confirmed anything, I understand?”

  “That is correct,” I answered. Immediately, several of the dancers who had been blatantly eavesdropping sighed and turned away.

  Returning to a conversational tone, A’isha said, “My dancers seem to think they have the right to know everything the moment it happens—ceaseless gossips, all of them. Even so, our blessings go to you, your mate and, if hope proves true, your child.”

  “Thank you; I will pass the words along to Danica as soon as her doctor lets me see her.”

  A’isha laughed softly. “In the meantime, you and Andreios are both welcome to stay in the nest—as I am sure you want to.”

  The words caught me off guard. Despite Danica’s condition and Valene’s presence, I had not expected such an open invitation. I understood A’isha’s allowing Danica to stay, but although no serpent was ignorant of dance, I certainly did not qualify as one of A’isha’s guild.

  She must have seen my surprise, because she reminded me, “It has been too long since our queen has been a student of the nest. We have been honored to have Danica here.”

  The simple words touched upon centuries of history. Long before my time, the palace hall had been the home of the most famous dancer’s nest; the royal family had been a respected part of it. Seven or eight hundred years ago, the Diente had attempted to demonstrate his power over the dancers—and as a group they had rebelled.

  No one knew for certain who had put the knife in that king’s heart, though most believed it had been his own son and heir’s desperate attempt to prevent a civil war. The new Diente had swiftly negotiated with the dancers, and though they had supported the Cobriana ever since, they had never returned to the palace, founding sha’Mehay instead.

  Now A’isha offered a small package wrapped in white silk. I opened it to find an old coin, strung on a leather cord. The faded symbol on it was barely recognizable as Ahnleh. Primarily, it was translated to mean Fate, though like many words in the old language, it had a million connotations.

  A’isha explained, “A gift, for your Naga. These coins were once worn by all of the Nesera’rsh, the priests and priestesses of Anhamirak during the time of Maeve’s coven. The Ahnleh came to be known as the Snakecharm, since Anhamirak’s symbol was a serpent. The Nesera’rsh are remembered only in nests such as this one now, but once, such a charm was the only coin a dancer needed throughout her life. It is said that even enemies at war would refuse to strike someone who wore an Ahnleh. And once … the Naga wore one, too.

  “The day Danica stood in the synkal and you announced her as your mate, I recognized in her the soul of a dancer. You two brought peace to two lands that had long before forgotten the word. It is past time for other bridges to be patched; sha’Mehay would be proud to see our Naga—and, I hope, the mother of our next Diente—wearing our Ahnleh once again.”

  “Thank you,” I answered solemnly. “I know Danica will be honored.”

  “It will be the nest’s gift of congratulations, as soon as that avian doctor admits the obvious,” she said with a grin.

  A’isha’s pure faith was contagious. As I watched her most advanced students perform complex variations of sakkri and melos—dances far beyond any ability I would ever have—I found it hard to consider that fate could do anything other than turn the right way.

  I sat with Andreios, who also watched the dances with a mixture of shocked awe and clinical observation. I could see him being drawn into the dancers’ hypnotic spell even while he tried to stay detached enough to examine the specific steps and moves in each variation.

  The nest atmosphere and the late hour combined to lower inhibitions and make me choose my kind’s blunt honesty rather than the avian discretion I normally practiced with Rei. Still, our words were light as we avoided difficult topics.

  “So,” I teased the crow, “what prompted your mad decision to engage in our favorite heathen activity?”

  Rei laughed a little w
ith me. “I received a challenge from a very insistent young lady, who told me she could never respect a man who was ashamed to dance.”

  “Oh?” I prompted. “This lady wouldn’t by any chance be a black-haired viper, would she?”

  Voice remote, he replied, “No, actually.” More lightly, he added, “And I think A’isha might be offended if I implied that she qualified as a lady by avian standards.”

  “May I know the name of the woman who can convince the leader of the Royal Flight to take up such a scandalous pastime?”

  “She’s not a serpent,” he responded.

  Before I could attempt to learn more, Betsy emerged from downstairs with a tired smile on her face.

  “Yes? What have you—”

  “Calm, boy,” she interrupted. She glared at the surrounding dancers, who backed off, giving us as much privacy as we were likely to get. “Your pair bond is fine; I believe she is in no danger. Her ‘ailment’ is what I know you’ve already suspected.”

  I instantly started toward Danica’s room, but Betsy stepped in front of me. “You are not going in there.”

  I towered over the crow, yet she was still a fearsome creature. With a glare like that, Betsy could have been a commander in an army. “You said she was fine,” I argued, despite Rei’s earlier warning.

  “She is sleeping,” Betsy said. “She’s still faint.”

  “Is this normal?” I pressed, hoping that some of my questions at least could be answered. “The chill, her fainting …?”

  “I think so.” Seeing my doubtful expression, the doctor sighed. “Zane, boy …”

  I jumped as she lifted a hand and touched my cheek. From another serpiente, it would not have been a surprise; from the usually formal crow, it was startling.

  “Does my skin feel hot to you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Of course.”

  “Yours isn’t cold to me—it’s the same temperature as this room, which by the way is too hot. It’s making your people antsy.” I had no desire to point out to Betsy that the nest was kept this way intentionally. She continued, “I don’t know much about your kind, but I know that a snake’s eggs will grow too quickly and die if they’re too hot. Your palace doctor has confirmed that your young are the same way. That being so, imagine a serpiente child growing in an avian womb; it would never survive.” Without waiting for me to acknowledge whether I understood, she concluded, “Apparently you’re both human enough to breed together. Your mate’s body is adapting itself to take care of your child. She will be weak for a while, but otherwise she appears healthy. You may see her in a couple of days.”

  “Days?”

  “I’ve been a doctor since before you were born, and that gives me the right to be blunt,” Betsy said. “She needs a few days without excitement while her system is getting used to the changes. Having you in her bedroom is not going to help her rest.”

  Again I grudgingly accepted the doctor’s orders, though I hoped that Danica would argue once she woke.

  “Andreios, you’ll make sure he does as he’s told?” Betsy appealed to the crow.

  Rei answered immediately, “You know I would never let anyone do anything that would endanger my queen.”

  Betsy frowned. “You’ve spent too much time with serpents for me to trust that means you’ll obey my orders,” she said. “I’ll wash my hands of it until she has the sense to return to the Keep. Just make sure she is allowed to rest. I will stay in serpiente lands until she is well enough to travel, in case complications arise. Zane, your associates assured me a room in the palace.”

  I nodded. “Of course.” I wasn’t overly fond of the doctor right then, but that wasn’t really her fault. Avians, and their fixation on decorum and respectability, sent me to the brink of insanity almost daily.

  The moment Betsy was gone from the room, one of the dancers caught my arm. “Well?” he demanded.

  The words instantly brushed my annoyance aside, leaving a swell of nervous joy that would probably not go away until the child was born. “A’isha was right; Betsy just confirmed it.”

  “Wonderful!” the dancer exclaimed. “Before you go disappearing to see her … we were wondering about your plans. If the Cobriana are really returning to the nest, the child would certainly be welcome here. I know it’s irregular for the Arami to be raised in a nest nursery, but in peacetime, surely the heir to—”

  Something must have showed on my face, for the dancer broke off. Serpiente children, unless they were in their parents’ arms, commonly slept and spent their time in a communal nursery in the palace or—in the case of a dancer’s child—in the local nest. As adults they chose lovers and sometimes mates, but even as children they were never alone.

  I answered the dancer, “I don’t know what Danica plans for the child.” Avian children were raised very differently.

  I looked to Rei, wondering if his vague answer to Betsy meant he might let me slip away downstairs, but A’isha had once again engaged him, hooking one of the many melos scarves she wore around his waist in an attempt to draw him into the dance.

  The crow looked at it with shock. A’isha plucked the scarf away with a flourish.

  “No need to be shy, little crow,” A’isha said. “If the gods didn’t want people to admire you, they wouldn’t have made you so stunning.”

  I got to see Rei flush for the first time, blood creeping into his tanned skin. A’isha flipped her scarf around his neck.

  “One dance,” A’isha implored. “I’m sure Zane would go elsewhere; you would be performing only for the nest.”

  “I’m sure Zane would,” Rei said dryly, glancing at me.

  I shrugged.

  “What is your lady friend going to think, if she hears you are learning to dance but are ashamed to perform?” A’isha goaded the crow.

  “One dance,” Rei said, relenting. “And only because I know you’ll never forgive me if I don’t take my opportunity to make a public fool of myself.” He turned to me. “You get out of here and thank A’isha for giving me an excuse to leave you alone.”

  I would indeed.

  Danica’s eyes fluttered open the instant I stepped through the door, and she smiled softly. “I was starting to wonder if you were planning on obeying Betsy after all.”

  “Never,” I assured her. “Though I’ve promised I will let you get some sleep. How do you feel?”

  I went to her side, and Danica hooked an arm across my shoulders to steady herself as she sat up.

  Danica winced. “I hurt.” She rolled her shoulders, as if the muscles were sore.

  “I’m sure,” I responded sympathetically. Offering the Ahnleh A’isha had given to me, I went on, “This is a congratulatory gift from sha’Mehay.” I explained the significance of the ancient coin and repeated A’isha’s words regarding why she was giving it to Danica.

  She took the coin reverently, closing it in her hand for a moment before tying the cord into place. “Thank you,” she said softly, as she snuggled closer. I knew the words were not for me, but for the nest around us.

  I began to massage her shoulders, and she closed her eyes and leaned back toward my touch. My fingertips brushed the feathers growing under her hair at the nape of her neck. There was still a moment of hesitation in my mind every time I felt those feathers, a moment when my thoughts protested, remembering so many years of war when this beautiful woman had been my enemy, so hated that when fate crossed our paths there had been no choice but for me to love her.

  She met my gaze now without any hint of the fear that had once been there. Cobriana eyes had once been for Danica what her feathers were for me. Avian legend said that a royal cobra’s garnet eyes possessed demonic power, and it had taken a long time for Danica to trust me enough to look into mine. Most avians still shuddered and avoided my gaze.

  “I feel … tired, but wonderful. Betsy tells me—” She broke off, words failing her, and then gave up on speech and kissed me.

  “I love you,” she whispered�
�then yawned widely. “Take a nap with me?”

  The request, as always, made me smile. When we had first met, the idea of resting with another person was as foreign to the lovely but reserved hawk as the idea of flying was to me.

  I was happy that Danica had not yet taken me into the air, but she had grown used to a second heartbeat while she rested. That blessing pleased me almost as much as any could.

  I wrapped my arms around milady; Danica sighed, tucking her head down against my chest like a chick in the nest. Having her there calmed my fears and let me drift into sleep.

  WE BOTH WOKE THE NEXT MORNING to an urgent tapping at the door, followed by A’isha’s voice. “Zane, Syfka is back. Rei and Valene have intercepted her at the nest entry, and asked me to fetch you.”

  As Danica began to push herself up to join me, I explained, “Valene suggests that we keep you and Syfka apart; apparently the falcons have some atrocious notions when it comes to children.”

  She grimaced, but nodded. “I’ll savor any excuse not to speak with her. I will probably still be here when you return.”

  I kissed her forehead and hurried to make myself presentable before Syfka stormed sha’Mehay. I met Valene and Ailbhe inside the nest door; they informed me that Rei was outside with the falcon.

  By the time I reached Syfka, her mood was obviously foul. Her first words, as our group turned to walk toward the palace, were, “You have white vipers in the palace guard?”

  Ailbhe stood his ground, not letting himself be flustered. “I am the leader of Zane’s guards,” he answered the falcon, gaze challenging but voice carefully neutral.

  “A white viper, a crow from the Royal Flight, and now a raven exile. Strange companions for a cobra king. Valene, what are you doing here?”

  “My Diente asked me to stand with him as an advisor,” the raven answered.

  “Your Diente?” Syfka repeated skeptically. “Last time I checked, you still had raven’s feathers on your nape.”

  “Milady, surely your concerns are more pressing than how I word my answers?” Valene sighed, and the falcon nodded.