Idriel's Children (Odriel's Heirs Book 2)

by Hayley Reese Chow

  Aza spent the day in an out-of-the-way corner of the stern observing the crew. While she meant to go unnoticed, she couldn’t stop Makeo from tagging along and drawing every pair of eyes on the ship. The wide deck swayed under their feet, and the bustle of Aquilond faded on the breeze as they cut through the waves farther out to sea.

  The shore shrank into a dim outline, and a strange nervousness roiled through Aza. She unsheathed one of her new knives and twirled it in her palm, finding its balance. For the next four days, they’d be trapped on this drifting cork, stewing in the suspicions of the sailors.

  But despite her unease, the days passed uneventfully, the dark shoreline crawling along their starboard. Aza exercised on the deck with Makeo as her ever-silent companion. Witt bobbed among the crew until they at last put him to work, showing him how to tie off the lines and adjust the sails. And Shad emerged from his hammock for mealtimes, padding along the deck like any other ship’s cat.

  On the third day, Aza leaned against the rail while Makeo perched on a crate next to her. Together they watched in silence as Witt scampered up and down the masts and rigging with the sailors, turning and pulling the three tiers of canvas this way and that. While the crew went about their work, a scattering of passengers meandered in long circles along the ship’s rail, giving Makeo’s bulky form and Aza’s scowl a wide berth.

  Three sandy-haired children, probably between the ages of six and twelve, sauntered right up to him, staring unabashedly at his paws and muzzle. Makeo returned their stares with crinkled eyes, and they whispered amongst themselves in awed wonder.

  “Do you think it’s a bear?”

  “No, it looks like a wolf.”

  “Then why is it wearing breeches and boots?”

  “Why does it stink so much?”

  “It won’t eat us, will it?”

  Aza opened her mouth to tell them to clear off, when Makeo reached out a paw, the dark pads facing up.

  “I’m actually a Maldibor.” He chuckled deeply. “And no, we don’t bite.”

  “Wow!” The youngest girl reached out and brushed her fingers along his paw. “And you can talk too?”

  The middle girl with short, curly hair edged forward. “Are you a person or an animal?”

  Makeo bared his teeth in the Maldibor smile. “We’re people cursed to look, smell, and sound like animals.”

  The oldest girl’s face twisted. “My teacher said the magi and curses are just pretend.”

  Aza started at that. With only three Heirs—one of whom was missing—and eleven hermitic magi, she knew there were people who didn’t believe in such things, but it still always surprised her when she encountered it. No one ever saw Odriel either, and yet most still believed he would guide them safely to the afterlife.

  “Not at all.” Makeo shook his head. “Just because you don’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

  “I knew it.” The girl’s chest puffed up. “I told him so, but he still didn’t believe me.”

  “Girls!” A pink-cheeked woman in a flowing, white dress huffed as she ran after them. “My goodness, you can’t just run away like that.” Her eyebrows rose when she got a glimpse of Makeo, but to her credit, if she was afraid, she didn’t let it show. “I’m so sorry. I hope they weren’t bothering you.”

  Makeo let his paw drop to his side. “Not at all.”

  “It’s a Maldibor, Mama,” the youngest said.

  Her mother nodded with a knowing smile, and she held out an arm. “I’m Lacenda.”

  “Makeo.” He gripped her arm gingerly in his large paw. “You don’t seem particularly surprised to see me.”

  “My mother and I sought refuge with your tribe for a time when I was young.” Lacenda put her hands on her curvy hips. “But what’re you doing on a ship during a dark moon night?”

  Aza frowned and tried to remember the moon’s shape the previous night. Was it really a dark moon night? How could she have forgotten that?

  Makeo chuckled. “You look away for a moment and find yourself drifting out to sea.”

  “I can understand that, but I know it’s such a special night for you…” She tapped her chin. “Oh!” She brightened, tossing her long brown hair behind her shoulder. “I have my guitaretta with me; perhaps we could have a dance tonight to celebrate?”

  The little girls practically glowed at the suggestion.

  Makeo put up a paw. “Much appreciated, but I don’t need—”

  “Nonsense. It’s tradition.” She leaned forward. “And I would just love for my girls to see the magic of the Maldibor.” She winked at him. “If they can manage to stay up till midnight, that is.”

  “Oh yes! Please! Please!” The girls reached out to pull on Makeo’s paws.

  “All right, I suppose.” He turned his muzzle to Aza with a chuckle. “But only if Lady Aza here dances with us.”

  The girls turned to Aza as if seeing her for the first time. They paused for a moment before reaching out with small fingers to yank on her hands too. “Yes! You must! We can teach you how!”

  She flinched back, trying to keep her knife out of their sticky fingers. “Okay, okay.” She glared at Makeo with gritted teeth, the guilt of forgetting about the dark moon sticking in her belly. “Just one.”

  Makeo’s mouth widened into a full-fledged beast smile, and the children cheered.

  Lacenda clapped her hands together. “Wonderful.” She wagged a stern finger at her children. “But you must rest if you want to wake for midnight. Come along.” She waved as she herded them away below deck. “We’ll be back.”

  Makeo leaned against the railing as he watched them go, a smile still lingering on his wolfish face.

  Aza’s knife resumed its twirl, and she returned a sailor’s belligerent stare. “Sorry you’re stuck here on this ship with us for the dark moon.”

  “Your concern is appreciated.” He flashed his teeth at her. “But you can stop apologizing for my presence when I chose to be here.”

  Aza’s brow creased. She normally wasn’t this bad with words. Why did it seem like she was always on the verge of insulting Makeo these days? She was just trying to… well, she didn’t really know what she was trying to do. But she wasn’t trying to be mean.

  “The sea breeze on my bare face will be festive enough, but you don’t have to worry. I won’t hold you to a dance.” He pointed his nose into the wind with a smile. “I’m just looking forward to seeing the crew when they find I’m, in fact, a man, and not some monster their grannies warned them about.”

  Aza winced. “Do the questions bother you? I’m not sure I can do much about the sailors, but I think I’m at least capable of shooing away three little girls.”

  “No, no.” He chuckled in his gravelly voice again. “I much prefer the open questions and curiosity to the unspoken fear.”

  Aza nodded, her lips twisting. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think the crew likes me much either.”

  “You mean after you threatened them to gain passage aboard?”

  “I didn’t threaten.” She shrugged. “I can’t help if the truth is ugly.”

  “You’re as sharp as your knives, Aza.”

  She tossed the spinning knife to her other hand. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “I’ll let you know when I catch the edge.”

  The memory of fourteen-year-old Makeo covered in blood seared across Aza’s thoughts, stealing her breath away. “That’s why I prefer to be alone,” she whispered.

  Makeo straightened with a long sigh. “No Shadow is ever alone, Aze.” With that, he walked away, the other passengers parting at his approach.

  Aza shoved her knife into its sheath and looked to the sky. She and Makeo used to talk for hours, and now she couldn’t go five minutes without acting like a complete ass. What was wrong with her?

  Chapter Nine

  Dark Moon

  The sun had already burrowed into the horizon when Lacenda reappeared on the deck, petite guitaretta in hand and her three sle
epy-eyed girls in tow. Aza followed them to the bow where Makeo had his nose to the dark blanket of sky. The creaking ship complained against the constant waves, and the sails snapped fitfully above.

  Aza sighed and looked up at the overcast night. Odriel’s Guiding Star peeked at her from the swirling black. Midnight couldn’t be far off. She watched from the shadows as Lacenda exchanged pleasantries with Makeo, laughing and smiling easily together, with the now-quiet girls sinking sleepily down against the crates on the dock.

  Something twisted in Aza’s gut. While she certainly preferred her own company to that of others, she envied the talent some seemed to have for companionship. Interacting with others made her feel so stilted and impatient, but people like Lacenda and Witt made it seem effortless.

  Makeo’s tall ear flicked toward her, and Aza realized he already knew she was there.

  She stepped forward into the lantern light of the bow, and Lacenda brightened. “Oh, I’m so glad you decided to join us.” She gestured toward her dozing girls. “I’m afraid my other dance partners couldn’t quite keep their eyes open.”

  Makeo opened his mouth to say something, but Aza cut him off. “Of course.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, rubbing her arm self-consciously. “I said I would, after all.”

  Lacenda shook her daughters awake, and they blinked sleepily at one another like fledgling owls. She breathed in the gusting breeze, her eyes on the dark sky as if she could see the stars hidden behind the clouds. “Almost time now.”

  They stood for a moment more, maybe two, before the sonorous clang of the ship’s bell marked the hour.

  “Now,” Lacenda whispered.

  Aza vaguely remembered her first dark moon in Carceroc so many years ago. She couldn’t have been older than Lacenda’s youngest, but she could still remember Makeo’s small, soft body leaning into her shoulder, his pudgy hand finding hers and squeezing it tightly as though to keep the enchantment from tearing him away.

  The girls’ eyes widened as a green shimmer flashed across Makeo’s body—so fast Aza almost missed it. With a sound like the rustling of fabric, the transformative veil swept across Makeo. His claws receded into his skin, his fur melted away, and his wolfish muzzle disappeared into the face of a young man. The man he would’ve been without the curse.

  In only a few seconds, he was completely unrecognizable. Even the Maldibor stench had been whisked away on the sea breeze. She drew in a sharp breath, the wonder of it freezing her in place yet again, like it had done that first time.

  With a sigh of relief, Makeo tightened the belt around his now loose breeches, his chest bare. He ran his broad hands across his bare arms, running them up his shoulders to his neck. Aza knew she was staring, but she couldn’t quite absorb this incongruous being before her. He was familiar to her now, and yet so different from the short, laughing adolescent she had chased after years ago. Though he was smaller than his Maldibor form, he still towered above her, his body lean and muscular. His smooth jaw still looked freshly shaven, a common habit of the Maldibor men on their human days, and a mop of dirty blond hair fell into green eyes crinkled in a sheepish smile, the only thing connecting this man to that boy of her memories.

  For a moment, a smile stretched across her face in recognition, and she took a step forward. She longed to run to him, to tease and tussle his hair as she once had. To hear his ringing, contagious laugh untainted by the curse.

  But then her eyes caught on the ragged scar stretching diagonally across his chest—right over his heart. The one she had caused.

  Yes. Now that she would never forget. She quickly took a step back, guilt bleeding through her nostalgia.

  Sleepy eyes widening, the little girls cheered and clapped while Lacenda rapidly strummed her guitaretta in applause. “To the irrepressible Maldibor.” With that, she played a volley of chords that vibrated across the deck, launching into the first verse of a jaunty tune.

  Fully awake now, the girls rushed to him, grabbing at his hands to spin him round and round. Aza caught the sailors on watch staring at them, mouths agape, and she had to smile. Makeo was right. It really was worth it just to see their dumbstruck faces. This was no man-eater, no childhood nightmare. Just a tribe who had run across the wrong magus.

  Makeo laughed and traded steps with each of the children. He swung them into the air while they giggled and cheered. They hooked elbows and danced with each other, singing along to their mother’s lively tunes in enthusiastic voices. But they only lasted a few tunes before they started to slow, their heads nodding once more to the slosh of the sea.

  Then as quickly as the frolic began, the girls drooped and their smiles faded into yawns, like matches already spent. With a smile and a tip of an invisible hat, Lacenda gathered up her children to shepherd them below deck once more.

  “Happy dark moon, Makeo,” she murmured.

  Makeo gave her a short bow. “Thank you for the song, Lacenda. It was nice to hear a piece of home.” They shuffled away, and Makeo’s eyes flicked to Aza’s, still hiding in the shadows. “Well, was it worth staying up for?” Unlike his gravelly Maldibor voice, this one flowed as smooth as dark honey.

  “I didn’t stay up for that.” Aza tapped the toe of her boot on the deck, not meeting his gaze while her emotions churned into a gray muddle she couldn’t sift through. “I agreed to the dance, but it seems our music has wandered off.”

  He put a hand to his ear, the voice of the wind and the rhythm of the waves filling the silence. “You mean you can’t hear it?”

  She sighed, a war waging within her, as she remembered the last time they’d shared a dance. How they’d whirled hand in hand around a cheery fire. How they’d snuck away into the shadows. And how she’d even been so bold as to steal a quick teasing kiss before running off laughing into the forest. She resisted the urge to touch her lips at the memory—how his mouth had seemed to spark against hers.

  Her eyes flicked back to the thick mottled scar snaking down across his chest. He had followed her into the darkness, of course. And he had come out half-dead.

  But tonight was different. She breathed in the bitter, salty taste of the ocean while the lantern’s gold brush of light washed the deck in its glow. Makeo leaned against the rail, and the deck swayed beneath them, as if pushing her toward him. How many times had she thought about doing this again? Her lips twisted in indecision. She shouldn’t…

  But then again, her mother would certainly skin her if she didn’t keep a Maldibor company on a dark moon night.

  With a small shrug, she gave a little bow and held out her hand. “Well, it is tradition.”

  His grin broadened, a wide smile of even teeth stretching across his wheaten skin, but his eyes dropped to the deck. “I guess I can’t say no to a Shadow Heir.”

  He stepped forward, suddenly close, taking her hand in one of his and resting the other on her waist. She set her tentative fingers on his bare shoulder, hyper-aware of the flat planes of his smooth chest inches from her cheek—and the raised, pink scar that ran across it. The brother to the cut that marred her own cheek. She wondered if his still ached sometimes as hers did.

  Humming softly in a deep familiar tune, he guided her in time to the music, moving her smoothly through the steps. His hand was firm under hers, and he radiated warmth and joy in the cool breeze, his calming song melting the tension from her shoulders and the uncertainty from her brow.

  She grinned as he spun her around with a confident hand. “You’ve definitely had practice since we last did this.”

  “Of course.” He pulled her back to him, dipped her low, and smiled. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re enjoying this.”

  “Don’t congratulate yourself too much—it’s a low bar.” Aza swayed to the familiar Maldibor tune that had worked its way from the air into her thoughts. The thrill of his closeness buzzed on her skin. “But whatever you do, don’t tell Witt.”

  In the circle of his broad arms, Aza breathed in his human scent of p
ine and earth. Her gaze moved from his grinning eyes down to his wide pink lips she had kissed once. She’d thought it was just another game they could play, but how many times had she imagined a second kiss? Had it crossed his mind too? She looked away and shoved down the heat that threatened her cheeks. Her emotions weaved into impossible words tingling on her tongue—all the things she’d thought a thousand times but dared not say. Could not say.

  They turned with the haunting melody of their invisible music, and Aza was met with the sharp reminder that they weren’t alone on the open deck. Even from afar, the stares of the crew seemed to fall heavier on them from the darkness. In the distance, a glow tangled in the clouds, and a deep rumble growled beneath it.

  Makeo paused, and Aza glanced up at his face. Another distant flash of lightning illuminated his green eyes and broad jaw. Aza squinted in the cloudy veil of darkness that had fallen over the sky.

  “Should we go in?” she asked reluctantly.

  Makeo slowly turned to the crewmen watching them. One up in the crow’s nest, another at the helm, one leaning against the captain’s cabin, and three against either rail. More than there had been only an hour ago. Many more than there should be on the deck at midnight. Was it because of the storm?

  “I hadn’t planned on it.” Makeo stepped away, rubbing a hand along the goosebumps that dotted his arms.

  The ache of regret nipped at Aza where his skin had touched hers, but she let the ocean wind fill the space between them once more.

  He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. “But something’s not quite right here.”

  Aza turned her back to the bow, unease rattling through her as her gaze sifted through each of the sailors, her traitorous emotions returning to their usual stone.

  Her fingers twitched on the hilt of the dagger at her hip. Short cutlasses hung from the sailors’ belts to defend against pirates, but she doubted they had any real training. Still, Makeo was unarmed, and they needed these men to get them back to shore. Surely the tension in the air was just some kind of misunderstanding. But what was she supposed to do now? She suddenly wished Witt were here to talk them down. Lightning flashed again, glinting almost green in the sailor’s eyes.