The Changeling

by Jennifer Lyndon

  “I’m not the woman she came to see,” I replied. That statement didn’t come close to expressing the anxiety streaming through me, but it was a start. “She sees Sarane when she looks at me,” I added. “As do you, my friend, and probably everyone who has ever supported me. This war, reclaiming my throne, it was never about me. I’m nothing more than a marionette playing a part. I haven’t learned what M’Tek wants yet, and maybe it’s only a second chance with a lost sister. Regardless, it’s nothing to do with me. It’s Sarane she cares for.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Pet replied. I shook my head. “You’re far too stubborn to be seen as anyone but yourself,” she teased, smiling.

  “You don’t understand, Pet. Even Uncle Toblin and Aunt Kessa are only here for love of another queen. They only protected me because of my mother, Queen Marania. I never matched up with their expectations,” I continued. “When I was around four or five I remember overhearing the two of them speaking at night. Aunt Kessa kept emphasizing that she saw nothing of her cousin, my mother, in me. She said I was a peculiar child, that she found it impossible to love me. After that revelation, her voice became quieter, so I had to strain to hear what followed. Aunt Kessa said that if she hadn’t witnessed my birth with her own eyes, she’d have been convinced they were sheltering a Noge changeling. I had no idea then of what I was, or what she was really saying, but still it gave me nightmares.”

  I felt my face getting hot, as my vision blurred, and suddenly I was on the verge of crying. Pet took that dreaded step forward and her hand rested on the unsightly blemish on my shoulder, covering that awful mark I shared with Sarane. I wondered if Pet placed her hand there intentionally, to point out what she believed was obvious, that I was Sarane. All of the tension in my body traveled to that point in my shoulder, as I focused my anxiety on the blemish, wanting it gone. Sharp pain shot through my shoulder and Pet’s hand jerked back from me. She stared down at the palm of her hand, at dark blood on her white skin.

  “What was that?” she asked frantically, her gaze returning to me. “How did you do that?” I swallowed hard. “Oh Deus! Lore, my love, you’re bleeding,” she said, her voice almost shrill. I glanced at my shoulder. There was blood leaching through the pale blue material of my dress from that hateful blemish.

  “It’s nothing,” I said calmly, the tension having finally left my body.

  “No, sweetie, you’re bleeding. Tonight of all nights you can’t be bleeding, especially if a Fae is the cause. Did I hurt you?” she asked. “I barely touched you. How did I hurt you? Deus! Your guards are just outside. If they see you like this…” Suddenly I understood her concern, as I watched blood staining the soft blue satin of my dress. It looked as though I’d been stabbed, or shot with an arrow, possibly. “This looks really bad. Lower your sleeve so I can check the wound,” she continued.

  “Don’t!” I snapped, stepping away from her abruptly as she tried to touch my shoulder again. She stared at me for a moment, appearing both frightened, and upset.

  “Will you wait here? I’ll come back in a few minutes with a cloak, or something to cover you. Will you please wait here for me?” she asked again.

  “Of course I’ll wait,” I said. “The last thing I want tonight is violence.” Pet gave an exaggerated Fae bow as she took a step back from me.

  “Good. You understand what’s at stake. I won’t be long,” she said, more to herself than me.

  I realized as I watched her start off at a run, and then slow her stride in an attempt to appear calm, that she was frightened. Once I was alone again I looked around for Faira, but the wolfhound was nowhere to be found. I sat upon a bale of hay and leaned back against the wall to Sabea’s stall to wait for Pet’s return. A short while later I heard movement as a door opened. M’Tek appeared out of the shadows of the rear doorway to the stable. Her eyes were hypnotic, shimmering in the moonlight, her hair capturing the white light.

  “M’Tek,” I said softly. “Where’s Pet?”

  “Are you all right, Lore?” M’Tek asked, ignoring my question, continuing her approach in an unhurried gate, every step both deliberate and serene. I stood, anticipating her.

  When she came to a halt opposite me I had an inexplicable urge to touch her, to measure the softness of her brilliant hair, and her smooth cheek. I stood perfectly still instead, waiting for what she would do, curious whether she would try to touch me, or examine my shoulder. Already I knew I’d allow it. She remained still, waiting, and making no attempt at contact.

  “It’s nothing more than a scratch. I’m fine,” I offered in a hushed voice. M’Tek only nodded. “I didn’t mean to frighten Pet,” I added, glancing over at my shoulder.

  M’Tek removed her dark cloak and then stepped behind me to wrap it across my back, obscuring the growing bloodstain marring the left side of my dress. Her hands were steady and firm on my shoulders for a moment, as if testing me. She let her hands drop, and then draped an arm across my lower back to guide me toward the rear door to the stable. I walked close to her, wordlessly, as we crossed the grounds, feeling foolish for the trouble I’d caused. M’Tek’s arm dropped from my back as we approached a couple of my guards at the entrance from the garden into my palace. I walked ahead of her, up through the entryway, down the hallway, and then up the side stairs. There were more guards posted at the end of the hall to the second floor, and I nodded a friendly greeting as I passed them on the way to my apartments.

  Once inside my hearth room I let my gaze roam the space, noticing the carafe of dark berrywine, tilted over an extinguished candle. The fire was burning low in the hearth, giving off a warm glow. I saw a Vilken law book, obviously borrowed from my library, placed open on the arm of the sofa nearest the fire, and her draft of the treaty spread around the room in piles on different surfaces. M’Tek had been working. I turned to face her, finding her leaning back against the wall next to the door, watching me.

  “Where’s Pet?” I asked. M’Tek shook her head, closing her eyes as a hand rose to cover her face. For a moment she didn’t speak, but then she dropped her hand and her gaze focused on me.

  “My cousin is in her apartment with the captain of my guard, Shiroane. For her safety, I commanded that they remain there, until morning,” M’Tek finally replied. Her eyes moved over me slowly, returning to my shoulder. After a moment she stepped close to me and reclaimed her cloak. She draped it over the back of the sofa and then turned to face me again. “Will you allow me to see to your shoulder?” she asked softly. “I promise not to touch you any more than is absolutely necessary,” she added.

  “I don’t mind if you touch me,” I replied.

  “I’m pleased to hear that,” she said under her breath. “Come here. Sit on the sofa,” she added.

  I followed her around the sofa, and sat beside her. She turned me slightly in order to reach the fastenings of my dress, loosening them in one efficient movement. Gingerly, she lifted the material away from my shoulder and slid the sleeve down my arm. I watched her face as she examined the unsightly mark on my shoulder, a crease forming between her pale eyebrows.

  “It’s your birthmark, or it was. It’s been seared and sliced away,” she observed. “You’re still bleeding freely.”

  M’Tek stood and went over to the pitcher of water in the corner of the room. I turned my attention to the fireplace as I heard water pouring. A few minutes later she was sitting beside me again. I watched as she pressed a white cloth, covered in what appeared wet blood, against my shoulder. It felt hot at first, and then it began to tingle.

  “What is that?” I asked. M’Tek lifted her gaze to my eyes.

  “I’m sterilizing your wound,” she said gently. “You’ve lost quite a bit of blood.”

  She held the white cloth to my shoulder for several more minutes, neither of us speaking. She then lifted the cloth away and studied the mark. She ran her thumb across it, checking to see if I was still bleeding. Apparently I wasn’t, because she stood up and returned to the water pitcher. She rins
ed the cloth out and returned to my side, washing the blood away from my hideous birthmark.

  Finally, I glanced down at my shoulder to assess the damage. The mark no longer appeared dark pink, but was shimmery and almost silver in color, with the sharp lines of a star rather than the softer appearance of a flower. I touched the mark with the fingertips of my right hand, noticing it felt colder than the skin around it. I couldn’t stop the smile of astonishment that formed on my lips as I met M’Tek’s gaze. She looked away from me quickly and stood, beginning to pace the room.

  “You’re a gifted healer,” I observed, following her movements. “Did you use magic?”

  “I’ll let you get some sleep,” she offered as she strode toward the fireplace. “You must be exhausted.”

  “No. Please. Don’t leave me yet. I’m fine,” I said. M’Tek chuckled softly.

  “You keep claiming you’re fine,” she observed. “Have you noticed the entire left side of your dress is soaked through with blood?” I looked down at my dress, realizing the gruesome sight I presented.

  “You’re right. I’ll be back,” I offered.

  I hurried into my own apartment, quickly shed my bloodied dress, cleaned the blood from my skin with a bathing cloth, and wrapped myself in a white satin dressing gown. I was back in the hearth room within a few minutes. M’Tek still paced in front of the fireplace, wearing a troubled expression. I smiled in an attempt to reassure her, but that crease appeared between her eyebrows again. I made my way over to the berrywine, decided it was still warm enough, and poured myself a glass.

  “Would you care for a glass?” I asked, glancing over at M’Tek. I saw her chest rise as she took a deep breath. After a moment’s hesitation she nodded.

  “Yes. That would be nice,” she replied. I poured another glass and brought them both with me to the sofa.

  “Come and sit with me, M’Tek,” I said as I placed her glass down. “It’s too warm next to the fire.” M’Tek did as I’d asked, claiming the space beside me, but keeping a careful distance, as if afraid to inadvertently brush against me.

  “What happened to you?” she finally asked. “How were you bleeding? Nothing should be able to injure you now,” she added, frustration coloring her voice. “Knives can’t cut you. Arrows can’t pierce you, yet you were bleeding profusely. It looks as though someone carved your birthmark from your shoulder, without damaging the cloth of the dress you were wearing. How is that possible?”

  “Because I did it,” I admitted, tightness growing in my chest as I tried to put it into words.

  “How do you mean?”

  “I was upset,” I replied.

  “You were upset, so you carved the birthmark from your own shoulder?” she asked, disbelief obvious in her tone.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I said.

  “Then what was it like?” she asked more gently. “Indulge me, please. I’m curious.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not her,” I whispered. “I know you loved her, but I’m not Sarane.”

  “Of course you’re not,” was her response. “What does she have to do with your shoulder?”

  “Do you mean that?” I asked quickly. “You really don’t think I’m her? When you look at me, you don’t see her?”

  “I see you, Lore, only you,” she said firmly. “Now what did you do to yourself? And more importantly, how did you manage it?” she asked, sounding exasperated. “This should not have been possible.”

  “I’m not quite certain how I did it,” I replied. “I was upset. Everyone wants me to be someone I’m not,” I explained. “I can’t be Sarane, or my mother. I don’t know how. I’m only me. But then I look exactly like Sarane. Even my birthmark matches hers. When Pet touched my shoulder in that precise spot, my entire being focused on how that birthmark was killing me. I felt the pain, like a knife slicing through me, but I didn’t mind. I wanted it gone.”

  M’Tek’s expression was neutral as she replied, “Well, your birthmark is gone. You’ll carry a scar, though.” I opened my dressing gown to check my shoulder and couldn’t help but smile.

  “I like the scar,” I said. “Will it always look this way?” When I looked to M’Tek for an answer she was staring fixedly at the fire. The glimmering light from the flames played across the planes of her face, brightening her exquisite eyes. I wanted to touch the softness I anticipated in her cheek. “What do you think, M’Tek?” After a moment she returned her focus to me, even glancing at my exposed shoulder briefly.

  “I think this could have been far worse,” she replied, returning her gaze to the fire.

  “I suppose,” I said watching her, sensing vulnerability in her contained affect. I watched her throat as she swallowed hard.

  There was something in her expression, and in the way she kept her focus everywhere but on me. My skin felt somehow prickly. I needed to touch her hand, to see how she would react. I stared down at her hand on the sofa beside me, allowing my gaze to move over each finger, slowly, studying the length of her nail beds, the curve of her fingers against the cushioned surface. Even after washing her hands, the nail on her smallest finger was slightly discolored by my blood. My gaze moved to her narrow wrists and along her arm, covered by the sleeve of her gown, to her exposed shoulder. M’Tek’s shoulders were very sharp-boned, the flesh tight and smooth. I followed the line of her throat as I imagined what the soft skin of her neck would feel like under my fingertips. Focusing on her hand again, I cautiously slid my fingers beneath the curve of her palm. Her head turned as she quickly shifted her gaze from the dwindling fire to me. Rather than meet her questioning eyes, I tucked my head against her shoulder and shifted closer to her, as I claimed her hand.

  For a fraction of a second I thought she might take her hand away as she tensed, but then it was as if all rigidity drained from her body, and her fingers wove between my own.

  I must have fallen asleep on the sofa, because the next thing I remember was M’Tek walking me into my bed chamber, pulling back the covers, and guiding me down onto my bed. I awoke the next morning still wearing my dressing gown, tucked contentedly beneath the covers. My door was slightly ajar, and I could hear movement on the other side. M’Tek was awake.

  I slipped out of bed and went to find her. She was already bathed, and dressed for riding, in breeches and what looked like a man’s chemise. Her feet were again in her riding boots. She sat at the table by the window, with her attention focused on her task. She was making notes in the margin of her draft of the treaty. We were supposed to be working on it together, but so far I’d been of little help. When she finished writing, she lifted her head to greet me, a slight smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

  “Did you sleep well, Lore?” she asked.

  “That’s supposed to be my question,” I replied with a grin. “I’m the hostess, remember?” M’Tek nodded.

  “Of course. Forgive me,” she said, teasing me. “Go ahead. Ask.”

  “No. It’s too late now. It would seem disingenuous,” I countered.

  “Well, I’ll tell you anyway. I did sleep well, so well in fact I need to burn some energy. I thought if you aren’t otherwise engaged this morning, we could go out for a ride.” She smiled. “It would give me great pleasure to see you ride Sabea for the first time,” she added.

  “I have a council meeting,” I replied, my tone pensive. “But I can miss it.”

  There was no way I was giving up a morning spent with M’Tek, for hours cooped up in a stuffy council room with those crusty, opinionated, old men. I’d have Pet attend in my stead.

  We rode out from the stables into the dense redwood forest surrounding my palace, M’Tek easily matching her pace to mine. We rode along the usual trail I chose when riding out, toward the west wall, where I took a much-needed glimpse of the world beyond the walls of the palace grounds. I typically rode to a point where the wall was ten feet below the rise next to it. I would then climb the rise, and stare wistfully out at the world beyond those unyielding boundaries of obligation.


  In those moments it felt as though all I’d done since winning my throne was work to build the structure needed to keep it, imprisoning myself within those walls in the process. Worse still, I’d not made a single positive change in the lives of my subjects. I was simply working to stay upright. Sometimes the task felt too heavy, and all I wanted was the simplicity of the lives afforded those living just beyond that wall, in the shadow of my palace.

  On this morning, with M’Tek beside me, I craved none of that simplicity, or even the easing of burdens. Instead I was a powerful sovereign, easily up to the tasks of ruling my realm. I watched M’Tek as she looked around at the woods she must have run through almost every day as a young girl, and I wondered about that time, and the child she had been.

  “Did you ride here often when you were a young girl?” I asked, drawing her attention back to me. M’Tek focused on me a moment before her gaze traveled to an old deer run.

  “Everything’s changed,” she observed. “The trees seem older,” she added. “These redwoods were smaller. There was a trail we always took, but I haven’t seen it. The forest may have reclaimed it.”

  “We aren’t that far in yet,” I countered.

  We walked on in silence for a while, as M’Tek scanned her surroundings, studying every neglected deer run we passed. I was curious to know where her thoughts were, but hesitated to ask. Her expression was closed, her mind hundreds of years away from me.

  Mustering all of my courage to break through to her, I finally said, “Will you tell me about her, about Sarane?” M’Tek focused those intense eyes on me a moment, a crease forming in her brow, and then she smiled.

  “All right, if you like,” she agreed. “What do you want to know?”

  “Did you ride these woods with her?” M’Tek nodded.

  “We rode together almost every day.”

  “And she was about your age?” I asked.

  “Almost two years older.”

  “You said you worshipped her,” I continued. “Why?” M’Tek laughed. It wasn’t a mirthful sound, but darker, more resentful.