Shapeshifters

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  “Where were you?” I whispered. “Did I chase you away when I became queen, Betia? I must have … So much death. Where were you?” I sobbed, looking away. “I had a daughter. And she was mad. And she—”

  I could not say it.

  Betia lifted my face and brushed the tears from my cheek. Her voice was hoarse from the long months of disuse as she asked, “Were you in love?”

  The question, the first sentence she had spoken, made a lump lodge in my throat.

  Betia kissed my forehead. “I won’t leave you unless you ask me to. I—” Her lips touched mine, chastely. “The future will come. I will be there, if you want me.”

  She kissed me again, so sweetly that I could not help crying harder. Her lips were warm, her body soft against mine.

  “You don’t have to speak. Words fade,” she whispered. “I know that better than anyone. Words are forgotten; they are regretted. Unnecessary. I know.”

  So in silence, we held each other until my trembling subsided. And when she kissed me once more, I gave in to the temptation, and I kissed her back. With her presence and her touch, she gave me the hope and the warmth that I needed so much.

  I don’t care what your preferences are. But I know what it is to be a leader. You are the monarch of this land; you are your parents’ only child. You need a king, Wyvern.

  I pulled away from Betia as reality began crashing down around me—as I suddenly remembered why she had not been in the future.

  Find me a time when I find love, when I take a mate and it does not lead to war.

  I found love. And I took a mate.

  They just weren’t the same person.

  I looked at Betia and saw the hurt in her eyes. “Betia, I can’t …. We can’t be together. Not while I’m queen. Not while—”

  A vision of Keyi came to mind, and again the words echoed in my mind:

  And a royal pair bond has to produce heirs.

  “Oliza?” Nicias had entered the room and was standing beside me.

  “Nicias, please—”

  “Oliza, I’m sorry, but a group of our guards just brought the mercenaries in.”

  The lions. I needed to talk to them. Needed …

  I want to chase the butterflies.

  Again, I struggled to keep the dream in focus. But I also wanted more than anything to forget it, to curl in Betia’s arms and pretend that the future was easy.

  “I need to talk to the mercenaries,” I said.

  Betia nodded, her expression resigned. I couldn’t help it; I kissed her again, tasting her lips and drawing strength from her embrace for what I needed to do. I didn’t care what Nicias thought.

  “The lions hunted sometimes with us,” Betia said. “They only do their jobs. Don’t hurt them?”

  I smiled, moved by her protectiveness. The lions had no formal kingdom and had always been at the mercy of the laws of the lands that they visited. The punishment for treason was severe in both courts, but in this case I could promise. “I won’t hurt them.” Needing her support, I asked, “Would you come with me to speak to them?”

  Betia hesitated, but then she gripped my hand and helped me stand.

  Tavisan and nine of his people were waiting in the Rookery courtyard, surrounded by my Wyverns and additional members of the serpiente and avian guards. It was the place where I had first met him; it was also the place where I had woken up after the unintended sakkri.

  “Let me through,” I told my guards as they tried to keep me from getting too close to the lions’ leader. Too many people were there. “Nicias, I want to speak to Tavisan alone.”

  “Oliza—”

  “Now.”

  His eyes widened at the command, but nevertheless, he escorted Tavisan from the mass of soldiers to the far edge of the Rookery, where, if we kept our voices down, we would not be overheard. Betia hesitated and then, at my gesture, followed us.

  “Betia Frektane, an honor as always. Oliza Shardae Cobriana, I hope you take no offense if I say I had not hoped to see you again.” His voice was soft, and his body seemed tired.

  Nicias had given us some room, but he didn’t move so far back that he could not intercede if Tavisan tried anything.

  I didn’t have time to argue with him. Voices were echoing in my head, and I grasped at them, needing to remember ….

  The dancers didn’t leave. I was part of the crew that took the bodies out of the nest ….

  Tavisan took a deep breath. “I know what you are about to ask, milady, but I cannot tell you the name of my employer. I was instructed not to tell anyone, my own people included, unless my refusal to speak put me in danger.”

  “You don’t think you’re in danger here?” Nicias demanded. “You abducted our queen. For a reason I do not comprehend, she is willing to show you lenience. I think it would be in your best interest to answer her.”

  Tavisan, I need your help.

  Milady, what is wrong?

  I finally understood the argument that had echoed in my mind frequently since Hai’s magic had first triggered mine and I had spun the sakkri’a’she.

  Oliza, this is madness. There has to be another way.

  Almost two months before, I had woken from these visions the same way I had this time, desperate to protect the future from the horrors I had seen. I had gone to the only person I knew who might be able to help me do what Hai had warned me I would: change everything.

  There was no time to be subtle. “I hired you.”

  “What?” Nicias asked in shock, but I ignored him. No time.

  “I know it’s the truth. I remember now.” More important, I remembered why. I couldn’t let the horrors I had seen become reality, and there was one thing they had all had in common.

  The one thing I had begged Tavisan to help me remove.

  Tavisan hesitated but then nodded. “You told me that you needed to leave Wyvern’s Court, but that you feared you would soon lose the knowledge of why. You were the one who ordered me to strip your winged forms, so that you would not be able to return easily.” His gaze dropped. “We did not anticipate that the Frektane, whom we have worked with before, would be a problem.”

  I want to chase the butterflies ….

  “Nicias … release them, all of them. I need to go.”

  I want to chase the butterflies.

  I grasped at the memory but couldn’t quite find it. Why did those words bring an ache to my chest?

  I want to chase the butterflies.

  I kissed Betia’s cheek and whispered, “I will meet you … in the nest. There is something I must do now. I love you.”

  I needed speed; I needed my wings. I shifted into my wyvern form, nearly shrieking with the relief of finally unfurling my wings again. I would have loved to take to the skies and soar, but in that moment, I had other things to do. I whipped out the doorway, past Nicias, who I knew would follow me as soon as he had changed into his own form for flight.

  Sive let out a little gasp as I landed inches in front of her, finding my human form again; I had stopped and shifted so swiftly that she had to grab my arm to steady me. She was alone, luckily. I did not want Prentice as an audience just yet.

  I swallowed thickly. Could I really do this?

  I asked, “Could you do it, Sive? I’ve heard how highly your people speak of you, and I know that you would treat them well; you think swiftly and are as polished as any hawk ever was. Could you rule if you had to?”

  She froze. “Oliza, are you all right?”

  “Never mind me,” I answered. I couldn’t think about myself right then.

  I couldn’t think about how I had always expected to one day be their queen. All my life I had considered Wyvern’s Court mine.

  Mine to protect, before anything else.

  “Both of our mothers are still alive; you would not need to take a throne immediately or even soon. I assume you would inherit it when an avian queen traditionally does, when you have your own child, years from now.

  “Would you do it?”
/>
  She nodded slowly. “If I had to, Oliza. But you are the wyvern of Wyvern’s Court. I could never replace you.”

  “I’m not asking you to replace me.”

  I found Salem in the market. This time I landed a little ways back. The cobra was engaged in lively banter with a pair of merchants, both of whom were looking rueful but honored by his presence.

  He stepped back from them with a self-satisfied nod and quickly noticed me.

  “Good morning, cousin.” The lighthearted sparkle in his eyes almost made me forget my purpose, almost made me remember simpler times.

  The burden I was about to put on him …

  “What would you have done if I had never returned to Wyvern’s Court?”

  He frowned. “You don’t think I believed that nonsense about your abdicating, do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “I’m just asking what if. If I was gone, what would you do?”

  Slowly, now visibly worried, he answered, “I’m no wyvern.”

  “I’m not asking you to be,” I said. “Could you be Arami for the serpiente? Lead this generation, in peace, so that maybe in the future …” My voice was wavering.

  Salem began to pace, his garnet eyes flashing. “Oliza, you will be a good queen. No one cares more about Wyvern’s Court than you do, and—”

  “If I rule them, it will destroy them,” I said. “I would be their queen if they would allow me, if Fate would allow me, but my first duty as their leader is to keep them safe. Could you do it?”

  He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. “They like me, Oliza, if that’s what you’re asking. If anything ever happened to you, they would accept me as Arami, as Diente. But, Oliza—”

  I didn’t wait for him to protest any more. I returned once again to Wyvern’s Nest. I kissed the doorway, knowing that I would probably rarely see it in the future. I could not be in Wyvern’s Court without usurping power from Sive and Salem. I wouldn’t be able to stand it.

  There could be no indecision.

  I was trembling as I walked into the nest, because I knew that I could not change my decision, no matter what answer I received there. I could not keep Wyvern’s Court or my place as its princess; I could not keep any of the things I had assumed would always be mine. I could only pray that there was something—someone—I loved that Fate would not rip from me.

  Betia greeted me hesitantly. I caught her hands and pulled her to me. I sensed her concern and support for me, and they calmed my nerves as I kissed her. I remembered those simple words she had spoken, when she had promised never to leave unless I asked her to.

  And then I went down on one knee.

  “I don’t know what kind of life we might have together,” I said, never looking away from her warm brown eyes. “But I know I would protect you with the last scrap of my soul. I know I want to be there for you, to hold you, to dance for you, to hunt with you, to be with you no matter where Fate takes us, because it’s the sound of your heartbeat that comforts me when I drift off to sleep, and I know I—I cannot offer you royalty. I’m not sure what I can offer you—but myself. Hopefully that is enough, because I love you, Betia, and I do implore you to be my mate.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes, and my stomach twisted and my heart pounded in panic. I had to give up Wyvern’s Court. The decision was made and set in stone, no matter what happened.

  She knelt in front of me and squeezed my hand gently.

  “Wolves mate for life,” she said softly.

  I smiled and said, “So do wyverns.”

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I …” She shook her head and said again, “Words fade so easily.”

  Her lips touched mine, and she held me as if she would never let go—not even when her fingers found the feathers at my nape, or the sparks of red and gold in my hair. She had not pulled away from me in the closeness of the nest or objected to the calmness of the avian market; she knew every side of me, had listened to all my dreams and had never rejected any part of me.

  She didn’t have to say the words aloud.

  Someone behind us whistled, which made us both recall at the same time that the nest was rarely empty. Even though I had paid it no mind when I had entered, there was a crowd watching us.

  Betia laughed.

  “I’m going to need to talk to them,” I said apologetically.

  She nodded, not quite giving me up yet; she slid her hands down my arms to twine her fingers with mine again.

  “Betia, you’re the one who has been with me this entire time. You know what I’m about to do?”

  She nodded. “Speak to your people. I will wait for you.”

  Suddenly panicking again, I gripped her hands. “Am I doing the right thing? It kills me to give them up, but I really think this is the only way. I know what people will say. They’ll accuse me of being afraid. Am I just a selfish coward giving up because it’s getting hard?”

  “Selfish coward?” she repeated with some confusion. “From the time I met you, you have spoken of Wyvern’s Court with love, and pride, and a sense of home that I envy. You have spoken of yourself as belonging to them. Wyvern’s Court is your world. It is you. It …” She shook her head. “Words, words. I just know that it can’t be selfish or cowardly to give up everything you ever thought you were, in order to protect them.”

  We kissed again, quickly, and then looked up at the dancers, who had backed off enough to give us some privacy.

  Urban took my glance as an invitation to step forward. His limp was a dagger to my heart, but it reinforced my determination.

  “I’m sorry” was the first thing he said. Only then did I realize that much of the nest must have seen the pained look on my face in addition to the interlude with Betia. “I know we teased you two a little, but I don’t think anyone really thought—” He looked stricken as his gaze fell to Betia, and I realized he was apologizing to her. Turning back to me, he said, “I take it this means you’ve made your decision?” I struggled to come up with an answer as he shook his head and said gently, “I can recognize a goodbye when I see one, Wyvern.”

  He thought I was saying goodbye to Betia and preparing to declare a mate. That was what the apology was for—Wyvern’s Court’s taking me from her. If only he knew how much I was really saying goodbye to.

  “Would you help gather the serpiente in the market?” I asked him. “I need to make an announcement.”

  He nodded. “I’ll tell the others. And I’ll bring Marus.”

  “Thank you.” I separated grudgingly from Betia. “I’ll meet you there?”

  She nodded, and again I found my wyvern form. I stopped briefly to inform Nicias that I needed to address my people, and I asked him to gather the avians.

  Then I sought my parents. A courier, whose eyes were wide as he beheld my rumpled hair and harried expression, hurried to fetch them once I reached the Rookery.

  “Oliza?” My mother sounded worried as she and my father came into the room.

  My father took one glance at me and then poorly suppressed a smile as he came to the obvious conclusion. He cleared his throat.

  “I’ve made my decision,” I told them. “I need to address our people. I’d like to do so from the market, unless you have another idea.”

  My parents looked at each other.

  “Do we get to know the outcome, or shall we also wait?” my father asked, his smile suddenly a little more strained.

  I hesitated. I wanted to tell them but was worried that they would try to talk me out of my decision. The images from the sakkri had already faded to a point where the strongest thing I remembered was the sense of absolute desperation. I remembered what I had thought of them, remembered that I had seen the devastation caused by every choice I made, but the specifics … the faces … they were disappearing.

  I was happy to lose the details; they had hurt too much. I was also happy that, unlike last time, I was not losing time—perhaps because Nicias had been there to balance the vision and cut it off
cleanly at the end.

  “I will speak to you along with our people as soon as they have gathered—which, hopefully, they are already doing. If you’re willing to wait.”

  They both looked worried now. I remembered the stories I had heard of the last such “announcement,” when my parents had told their respective people of their choices: to get married and unite the avians and the serpiente. Many people had been horrified.

  But in the end, the war had stopped.

  “We can wait,” my mother said, and I knew that it had taken all her avian poise to say that. She grasped my father’s hand. “As long as you are certain.”

  “I am.”

  Within the hour, I stood on a dais at the center of the market, near the glittering wyvern statue. I took a deep breath, seeking strength.

  My eyes fell to the small group immediately in front of me: my parents; my mother’s mother; Salem; Rosalind; Sive; Prentice; Nicias; his parents, Andreios and Kel; and of course, Betia.

  Hai was conspicuously absent.

  You are about to do something that changes everything. Her words had begun all this, and now I wondered if she had known that it would lead to this moment. What had she wanted?

  Had she spoken as a cobra, protecting Wyvern’s Court, or as a falcon?

  What I needed to do remained the same either way.

  Behind my family and all around the dais was a seething mass of curious avians and serpiente, who had all hushed the instant I had landed and taken human form.

  In the sudden silence, I could feel my heart pounding and hear my blood rushing.

  “Twenty-one years.” I sighed and then cleared my throat before beginning again. “Twenty-one years ago, in the sha’Mehay dancer’s nest, the dream that would become Wyvern’s Court began.” My voice carried this time, ringing through the market. “The dream was inspired by a symbol, and by the word alistair: protector. It spoke of a beautiful world, a peaceful world—one in which serpiente and avians lived side by side long ago. More important, it spoke of another world in which they would do so again.