by Mima
He scanned the room again. Grumpily. He’d gussied up and left Moriko’s bed for nothing. Not a one of these privileged bureaucrats was a darkmage. Remembering what it had been to take her today made him sweat so he ripped his mind away, but his eyes went to her form despite that. She was dressed in the softest pale butter fluff. When he touched the dress once it had snagged on his fingers. It was like she was wrapped in a glowing cloud at dawn, her polished hair perfect and topped with a circlet of fine gold threads glittering with yellow stones. It was delicate and simple, reminding him of a spider web covered in dew.
And then there was him.
The Queen nattered on more about how the rule of lawful process would never work for darkmages, for their existence was an affront to the Sacred Couple.
Donte remained motionless, his eyes scanning. Moriko believed in the gods the Queen spoke of. He had felt her faith, felt the comfort she took from thinking a pair of balancing spirits roamed the world.
It wasn’t how he was raised. The elements existed. They mingled in each person in a unique pattern that powered their craft. When he was a youngling, he’d thought perhaps they were arguing in him, and that was why he had so much more craft than he was supposed to. His friends had laughed. The elements didn’t think or feel, they said. They just exist. It was so opposite to Donte’s experience he thought maybe he’d look into this Sacred Couple. Then he’d know who he was fighting.
He stood. It was time the Queen presented Moriko to him. She’d introduced him to her father, mother, grandfather, and uncle earlier. He had very carefully kept his memories of his mother and father locked down. They hadn’t wanted him when he’d barely followed the rules. Now that he’d tossed the laws out the window, they were lost to him. More shadows. It was easier for them with him gone, so that was fine.
Scenting unease on the Queen now that he stood above her amused him. Bear did that annoying thing where he turned around backwards inside Donte, nose pointed at Moriko. He could smell the marten guards, Dom, and was interested to see several of the clan Alphas were here tonight. Sto, the Lizzeed, and Proteus, the Mountaincat, were physically the biggest of the Alphas, but Sto was older by two decades and Proteus was leaner. Donte thought he could take them, even together, although it wouldn’t be pretty. The Sandcat and the Groundbear were the ones he really would worry about, though. Despite Mac being older, he was among the best warriors Donte had ever seen, a perfect blend of speed, agility, strength, and cunning. Gren, the Groundbear, was just mean and possibly as willing to do anything as Donte was. They were probably all waiting to see if he’d break and start dining on salty Royals. Whatever.
Then there was Dom. The Bone Shield. It sucked to find out the term he’d thrown down as a fireball was really just a fizzling spark. Didn’t mean the man still wasn’t fearsomely wrong. He stood just below the dais as Moriko came up behind Donte to stand at his left side. Finally, she stood within his reach again. He breathed easier and Bear rocked happily. She smelled like oranges. He wanted to put her on top of him while he lay below that frothing material and fuck her.
Glancing over from beneath her perfect bangs, she smiled at him.
It was a few seconds before he could think. That was bad in a room full of enemies. The Queen was going on about fostering him into her family, giving him a title, whatever that meant, and her trust as executioner. He rolled that word around in his mind. Could work. Only had to last for a while. Thad wasn’t patient and he’d come for him soon. Sooner if Donte could make a big enough splash. No pun intended.
Bear heaved against him so hard Donte actually had to adjust his stance.
Touch our mate!
Not till we’re married.
Touch her! Now!
Speaking of gnats … the Queen declared the wedding for tomorrow. This seemed to be generally shocking to the people gathered as the room swelled with gasps and movement. With a flick of her painted fingers, the Queen turned the chatter off. Then he and Moriko retreated to chairs and she was seated beside him. This was better. His back was to the wall and Dom was in his sights. The Queen declared herself overjoyed none of her gathered family had given in to the evil temptations of darkcraft and called for dancing.
It took half of one song for Donte to learn human dancing was nothing like trux dancing. Give him drums and a bonfire anytime. Their version of drums were these little clattery things he could tell would give him a headache in about ten minutes. But there was Dom by the promenade exit, jerking his head in command for Donte to follow.
“Do you like to dance?” Moriko leaned over and asked.
“Not really. Is the Queen done talking?”
“Yes.” She tapped her toes happily.
“Good. I’m off to meet with Dom.”
She stiffened and her smile went from real to fake. “You can’t leave now. It would be rude.”
“Yeah.” He stood, nodding to Dom. “You are going to keep your ass planted in that chair. You do not move. I’ll make sure a guard is on you, but you are going to make it easy on him.”
“I’ll go with you.” She stood beside him. “I don’t like the way some of those truxet have been looking at you.”
“I won. They won’t kill me. We’ll just settle our boundaries.”
“What?” Her eyes flashed. “Outrageous. Of course they won’t kill you!”
He looked down at her in that confection of a dress, glittering precious things on her head. “Moriko. Stay here.”
She kept that empty smile she’d been holding on her face. “There is also the tiny fact my fiancée walking out of his introduction party would be very demeaning to me.”
Donte sat, taking her hand and sitting with her. She quickly pulled their joined hands beneath the table.
“Here’s a fact, Moriko. For the near future, I have one purpose. You know why.” Holding her warm gaze was easy. She looked at him with understanding. It made his feet itch. He looked out over the crowd, many of whom were leaning together, whispering, as they stared up at him. What they said to each other he could really care less.
He looked back at her. “Even the Queen is going through all these trappings for only one reason and that reason isn’t in this room. I’m wasting my time.”
Her jaw locked beneath her smile, cheeks flexing with tension. “Our marriage is not a trapping. You agreed to honor me and my faith.”
Had he? He wasn’t sure. But he would. “This isn’t our marriage. It was a test and it’s done now. No darkmages here. I kept my control. There is trux business to attend, hopefully my last, and I will come back for you.”
She looked away, her scent a fugue of negative emotions. But the one that got to him was fear. Yes, it was possible Thad, Signy, Sverre, or Russ could attack all the assembled Royals in the heart of their miniature city. They were capable of it and would find it satisfying and amusing. But he just knew this wasn’t the moment. He still had time to maneuver.
“You will be safe here.”
She still wouldn’t look at him. He wasn’t sure if she didn’t believe him or was just miffed. There were things like laws and manners. They helped bind people together, helped all the little personalities bump less. He wasn’t part of that world. He opened his grip on her and she took back her hand. Standing, he walked off the dais.
He approached one of the marten warriors standing against the walls. “You don’t let her out of your sight. Move up behind her, stay within striking distance.” The man narrowed his gaze but Dom came up behind Donte and then he inclined his head shortly and moved away.
Donte waited until he was in position, then with Bear roaring at leaving her, he followed Dom to the beach. A perfect setting to sever his last ties with his people. He’d even have salt right there to rub into the wounds. Maybe that would please the elements.
Dom maneuvered him so Donte’s back was to the ocean and the Alphas ranged around him. He had nothing to say so he waited.
“Are there any further questions you hold for Donte?” Dom as
ked.
“What if we want a darkmage for questioning?” Gren’s white forelock shone in the weak moonlight. “Would you have enough self-control not to kill it?”
“Probably not. If there’s a darkmage you want for questioning, you take it.”
“But you can sense them from the inside. It would be very good to get a high acolyte who can tell us the locations of the remaining four leaders.”
Donte could tell them their locations. All he had to do was make a spectacle of himself. They’d come to him, after he wiped out their first attempt to delegate. He just stood, knees loose and ready. The Alphas had been impressive in the council chamber at River Mountain. Here, so close and without their Shields, they were a nightmare. Something bad was coming. Bear watched, ready.
“Wolf has threatened to pull all his warriors from the City if you remain here.”
Donte looked at the Mountaincat. “You can cover it.”
The leader’s lip lifted in a snarl. “I’m not sure you’re worth the trouble to rearrange hundreds of warriors. They’ve formed bonds of trust with the human guards, and have built knowledge of the people and streets.”
It was close but he managed not to roll his eyes. Like any of that was worth the deaths of darkmages.
“You’re so defiant with us, yet I hear you knelt for the Queen fast enough.” Sto, the Lizzeed, stood solid in the sand he was at home in. His was the most relaxed form.
“He’s smart,” snarled Gren. “He plays everyone around him, switching his honor on when it suits.”
His gut clenched on the urge to strike at the sneering man, but Bear grumped to stay ready. They still stung, the dregs of his honor. They probably always would. But he was on a path to torch the remaining tatters, so it would stop hurting someday. “You think any kind of humiliation still touches me? There’s no pride here.” His tone of voice told Gren he couldn’t believe his stupidity. “She could put a chain on my dick and order me to lick her toes and I would.” Been there, done that. “For access to the streets where I can kill darkmages, I have summoned the will to survive. And you will summon the will to let me. Now let’s discuss how you want to stay out of my way.”
“You took a woman.” The Sandcat, Mac, finally spoke. “And for that I find you completely untrustworthy. I understand everything about your dark path, but the fact you used her to walk it, tainting her with the evil that will surely come for you, makes me sick down to my toes. Even if you died right here, you’d damage her so much. I can’t imagine what she’ll have to face in the coming days.”
Holding the man’s golden glare was almost as hard as meeting the unnatural seething collection of Dom’s red glow. But Mac’s was harder, because he spoke true.
Moriko will not be touched. Bear was serene.
But Bear didn’t really understand the level at which the man could plot and betray. Donte held himself still and quiet beneath the Sandcat’s disgust while his own throat swelled tight from bottling up his rage. The need to sink into her body, an itch all night, exploded with the throb of an open wound.
“The Council gave we five the power to make the final evaluation.” Dom’s quiet voice barely rode over the shush of the waves. “Your self control with your mate’s attacker, the controlled kill of the darkmage, and your restraint tonight all tell us you are currently in control of yourself and your beastspirit. Your plan has merit. You can do much to damage them. And so we break our own honor, in the lure of using you. Despite all our laws and ways, you will live. But you will not be of the clans anymore.”
The five men surrounding him were probably the last trux he’d ever truly interact with. His father’s bulky image filled his mind. Gone. All gone.
“You know they could still be controlling you. This could all be them using you as their puppet.” Sto was again calm and removed.
“No.” He refuted that.
Sto shrugged. “You simply don’t know what happens when you’re in your rogue state. They could very well rule your Bear. They certainly seemed to control you to an extent in the fortress.”
“No matter what the future brings, he must never be allowed back among the clans.” Proteus fisted his hands. As the only other mated man present, he would have an even fiercer protective drive. “You have been declared rogue, Donte. But I am proclaiming you sanctioned, until we have proof you aren’t killing innocents.”
Donte breathed in deep and slow. They were the words he’d been working toward for weeks. It was also an official declaration of a massive loss. Bear lifted his muzzle and mourned, high and long. The darkmages had done this to him.
Of all the torture he’d taken, this was by far the worst wound, even though he’d dealt it himself. He’d made the decision leading to these words months ago, hanging in chains, body mutilated. He’d been shaky before they took him, a Lone alpha of uncertain and too-proud craft, bitter at the break with his family. But he’d had a clan, had a marginal place among people. In order to bring them down, he’d decided to walk in their shadow. And so the last threads were cut.
Sandcat knelt on one knee, taking a bundle from the pouch he wore on his hip. He spread the bundle out into a long strip. “You must be marked. There can never be any doubt for human or trux that you have chosen to forsake all laws of society and are not to be trusted. Anyone who sees you should know they face the rogue.”
Dom stated, “The tattoos will be placed on your hands and face.”
“Good luck marking my scars.” Donte found himself slightly amused.
“Scars can be altered,” Mac said, “even mostly healed by a powerful bodymage. The tattoos will be clearer, and yes, I can ink scar tissue.”
“As if being the biggest guy around, with a preference for spiky hair,” he gestured at his terrifically lifted hair, “and already torn-up body could be hidden.” And if he went cloaked, the tattoos wouldn’t do a thing. A mental image came of him—walking dark streets, cloaked, with a sparkler spell above his head. Funny.
Then the image of Sverre’s older body, covered in arcane tattoos from bald scalp to knobby feet, filled his mind. An idea bloomed. “You know, if you shape these right, I could make them think—”
“This isn’t for you, this isn’t going to benefit you, and you don’t get to ask for a single thing from us.” Proteus leaned forward, clearly holding himself back.
Right. Rogue. Alone. Got it.
“On your knees.” The Sandcat had set out a tiny basin and was mixing ink.
Donte knelt in front of him. Proteus and Gren moved in on either side, and Sto blocked him at his back. That made Bear stand up.
Mac attached a needle to a wooden handle and picked up a small mallet. “Come closer, right up in front of me.”
He scooched forward until his knees almost touched Mac’s. Bear readied himself. They might not be his Alpha, but they were Alphas, and being this close and boxed in was like being caged by misty lightning. Bear pressed on Donte’s mind, wanting control. Mac lit a ball of light overhead, small and steady, washing them all in orange and gold.
Not a good time for you to come out.
Mac raised up the tool, set it to his temple and tapped.
We’re not under attack. Just getting some makeup.
By the time Mac dipped the tool in the ink, only a few taps later, the sting set in. It wasn’t anything at all to consider in terms of pain. But after he re-inked the second stinging set, the first heightened into a burn. By the time Mac inked the middle of Donte’s forehead, the crescent arc leading from where he’d started on his temple was a fiery, bone-deep throb, like he was trying to carve into his skull with a spoon. He remained motionless, lungs full of ocean stink and the musk of angry beastspirits.
When Mac made it around to his other temple, Donte felt the first stirrings of an inner problem. Breath still steady, letting the pain flow, having convinced Bear to back off, he examined the pain.
Everyone could feel a cavern of energy inside them, but the inner space Donte imagined Bear in was as la
rge as a room. The leaves of Bear’s jungle nest deep inside rustled with this strange new pain. Wary, he tuned out the agony now creeping down his sideburns and studied it.
Mac had made the turn around his chin before he understood what was happening. The tattoo was cutting him off. He’d already done so much to cut himself off it was really only on this final quarter of completion that he became aware of the consequences. Bear strode around the circumference of their jungle with the same agitation he showed whenever they had to go into a cell.
For the first time, his breath hitched. They were caging him in his own mind.
Wrenching his spiritcraft up, he pushed power across the strands of his claim to Moriko. Yes. She was still there, their Bond a dazzling new construct in him, pulsing with power. He stretched it farther, going into his own mind and reaching for the earth. He could still see the strands of life he rode from place to place when he sifted using his own power.
Returning to the pain, now so intense he could not breathe in steady flows, he struggled to understand. They weren’t taking his magecraft away. But they were doing something…
Bear ran now, bounding, panicking as he rarely did. He leaped up trunks to twist down with a thud, slashing at the growth. Instead of quieting him or ignoring him, Donte zeroed in on Bear. And finally saw the flecks of blood ringing Bear’s face. Rage boiled up out of his resignation. Fury at his total powerlessness before the actions of others, once again, flooded him. But he could go nowhere. He was chained by his own path. To fight now would gain him nothing, as he’d be fighting against the outcome he’d worked to enact.
And so he watched, slashed and stabbed with every small strike of that mallet, while Bear, beautiful, pure Bear who was always there when he was too weak to take the pain, was gated off. Walled off. Cut off from the greater beastspirit, from the flow of the clan, from the brotherhood of truxet.