The Changeling

by H. P. Mallory

  THE CHANGELING

  Book 8 of the

  Bryn and Sinjin Series

  by

  H.P. Mallory

  Copyright ©2020 by HP Mallory

  Published by HP Mallory at Smashwords Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Acknowledgements:

  To my son, Finn: Thank you for always making me smile. I love you so much.

  To my editor, Teri, at EditingFairy.com: thank you for an excellent job, as always.

  About The Changeling:

  Something is wrong with Bryn and Sinjin’s baby. Whereas once Bryn could feel the baby’s emotions, now she can’t feel anything.

  Sinjin will find himself traveling to Africa in his search to discover what evil is threatening his child.

  To make matters worse, Kinloch Kirk is under a magical attack.

  The question remains: by whom? Half the constituents of Jolie’s council believe the newly relocated Daywalkers are the one responsible, but others aren’t so sure.

  Find out what happens in The Changeling!

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  ONE

  Bryn

  I started awake, bolt upright in bed, gasping in shock, eyes wide open to take in the darkened room. I didn’t know what had woken me so suddenly. If there had been a noise in the room, then Sinjin would have heard it—he slept still and deep but was always aware and alert to danger.

  Maybe it had been nothing more than a bad dream. And yet things had been going pretty well recently.

  It was now over a month since the Daywalkers had turned up at Balmoral in Scotland, arriving through the portal there. At first, they’d struggled to adjust to their new life and all the

  new things they were learning. So much of what they’d known to be true, things they’d been taught since birth, they were now learning to be the lies of Luce. And that was a tough subject to accept.

  Though they’d come to us willingly, looking for a new and better life, away from the harsh rigors of their old camp, their conditioned brains still recoiled from the thought of joining their enemies.

  I could identify—I’d been where they were once upon a time—but I was determined to help them and make the transition as easy as possible.

  For the first week or two, the Daywalkers kept their own company in the hastily erected encampment my sister Jolie had set aside for them on the Scottish coast. They were grateful, but they felt more comfortable among their own people, understandably so. For them to suddenly be alongside Fae, vampires, werewolves, and other Underworld inhabitants was a severe culture shock, and they cast fearful glances at these unfamiliar creatures. In return, they endured many suspicious glances and overall unfriendliness.

  “We invited them here,” I said to Sinjin, sighing in exasperation. “And yet, we haven’t exactly welcomed them with open arms.”

  He arched an eyebrow at me. “I am well aware, my dear hellion.

  But being welcomed here does not mean that some unscrupulous individual has not taken advantage of your generosity.”

  “Meaning?” I knew damn well what he meant, but I wanted to hear him say it, all the same.

  “Meaning that, while I am certain many of these tribespeople are genuine refugees, if just one is an agent of Luce, then we have invited a viper into our collective bosom and given it leave to bite.”

  He was right, of course, which was irritating, but I was still determined to argue my point. “Luce didn’t know anything about this. How would he even know to place an agent?”

  Sinjin shrugged elegantly. “Naturally, I can only surmise. But you and the frog spoke to… how many Daywalkers in their dreams?

  One hundred? More? It is not so far-fetched to imagine that among that number, there was at least one loyal to Luce who remained unconvinced by your arguments and who might have informed Luce of his dream, and then…” He finished the sentence with a wave of his hand.

  “I trust them.” It wasn’t much of an argument, but it was all I had.

  “I quite understand, my Tempest.” The expression on his face was grim. We both enjoyed these little sparring matches, but there was a serious point behind this one. “The mere fact that you trust them is one of the reasons I cannot.”

  Maybe I believed in the Daywalker refugees because I needed to.

  Maybe Sinjin distrusted them because he was afraid of how a betrayal might affect us. He was fiercely protective of me, and all the more so since I’d become pregnant with his child. Even as we argued, his strong, comforting hand found its way to my belly, as if he was shielding the life that grew within, and I felt oddly warmed by his cool touch.

  “I am not the only one who feels this way,” Sinjin whispered.

  “True,” I acknowledged. “Dureau agrees with you.”

  I enjoyed the flicker of annoyance that danced across Sinjin’s handsome face. Dureau Chevalier had been the ‘other man’ in my life, referred to as “the frog,” “the dandy,” and “the fop” by Sinjin. Dureau was none of those things in my eyes, and maybe if Sinjin hadn’t been front and center, then…

  But Sinjin had always been front and center in my eyes, and there was no contest. Now the handsome French Fae seemed to have found a new love in Klaasje– something else Sinjin wasn’t happy about, as Klaasje was a vampire Sinjin liked and respected. And Sinjin might have respected Dureau on occasion, but he certainly didn’t like him.

  Sinjin strongly felt Klaasje could do better. Privately, I suspected his real objection was that if Dureau were dating Klaasje, Sinjin would be forced to be polite to him. Klaasje and I had talked about the possibility of a double-date, just for the pleasure of seeing our men squirm. For as much as Sinjin disliked Dureau, the feeling was mutual.

  “Even a ridiculous foppish frog with less brains than the amphibian he so resembles gets to be right once in his life,”

  said Sinjin, testily.

  I laughed and kissed him. It was a sure way of ending most arguments between us because Sinjin loved to kiss me in general.

  And, right then, he hungrily kissed me back. His libido always ran hot, and my advancing pregnancy had done nothing to slow it down.

  #

  It was two weeks ago that I’d first started to sense the child within me, in more than the typical maternal fashion. As a sensitive, I had a certain insight into those around me—not quite mind-reading, but an empathic sense of their feelings.

  When Jolie was pregnant with my niece, Princess Emma, I’d been able to feel Emma’s presence within her mother’s womb, and I’d wondered if I would similarly be able to sense my own child.

  The first contact was the most magical moment, as if the life growing within me had instinctively reached out to say hel
lo.

  What I sensed, for now, couldn’t even be called the baby’s thoughts, more like shades of color somewhere at the edge of thinking. It was like the signature of a life, unique and distinct to my child. The sensation might be vague, confused, and unfocused– a mind, as yet, unformed– but I could have picked it out of a thousand thoughts.

  The first person I told, even before Sinjin, was my sister.

  “May I…” Jolie reached out a questing hand.

  “Of course,” I laughed.

  The idea that as I sat, my sister’s mind was reaching out to the baby in my belly, was a strange and wondrous one, and it made me smile.

  Jolie beamed with excitement, and I knew she’d felt what I felt.

  “The baby is strong.”

  “What else would you expect?” I asked with a grin. After all, I was a warrior, and Sinjin was the strongest male I’d ever known.

  “If she gets the best of you two,” Jolie grinned, “then this kid is going to be awesome.”

  “She?”

  Jolie nodded. “The baby’s for sure a girl. I can just feel it.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about a girl,” I responded with a shrug as concern washed through me. Of course, it wasn’t a sure thing that the baby was a girl. It wasn’t as though Jolie had a pregnancy detection ability. But, she was also a highly magical witch, so that said something too. If she thought the baby was a girl, it most probably was. “I mean, I never thought I’d be a mother in the first place, but the idea of mothering a girl...” I took a deep breath and looked at my sister. “I’m not exactly the most feminine of women.”

  “You’ll be the best mother, no matter if your baby is a girl or a boy.” She paused, and that sly smile overtook her mouth. “Even though it is a girl.”

  I laughed and enjoyed the moment between us. So much had happened in the last year, it was nice to be able to take a breath and just enjoy being a family for once. But although things were good now, the dangers of the past cast long shadows.

  “Rand isn’t happy about the Daywalkers,” said Jolie, finally. She said the words casually as if they were just a comment in passing, but I guessed it was a subject she’d specifically wanted to talk to me about.

  “Neither is Sinjin. Or Dureau.”

  “Think it’s just a bit of macho dick-swinging?” asked Jolie, hopefully.

  I shook my head. “I think Klaasje agrees with them.”

  “That’s no surprise; she’s dating Dureau, and she’s close to Sinjin.”

  “Mercedes too,” I added. “Which I guess isn’t a surprise either.”

  Mercedes had an edge that would slice steel.

  “Mathilda? I’m sure she wouldn’t object?” Jolie asked.

  “No. But I’m not sure she trusts them either.”

  My sister gave me a very sisterly smile. “Trust is something else, Bryn. Trust has to be earned, and that will take time. For the moment, I’d settle for anything that isn’t direct hostility.”

  “Sinjin thinks one of the tribespeople could be an agent of Luce.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Because old ties are difficult to break. And he’s right in considering the possibility.” I took a deep breath. “How would we ever know if such was the case?”

  “Would you be able to sense it?” asked Jolie.

  I had the ability to read the minds of most creatures, if they were projecting their thoughts, that is. Yet, there were some creatures, such as vampires, whose minds I couldn’t read. I shook my head. “Daywalkers are too close to vampires. They can cloud their thoughts if they choose.”

  Jolie nodded slowly. “The Daywalkers and the women of Luce’s tribe came to us in need. I won’t turn my back on them, and I won’t judge them until they do something to warrant it.”

  It was beliefs like that which made me love my sister even more than familial ties might dictate. But it was also beliefs like that which made her husband fear for her safety. Was she too good? Too trusting?

  “Whether we have a spy in our midst or not,” I moved the subject on, “you know Luce is planning something.”

  Luce had been planning an attack, but we’d thwarted it by significantly reducing the size of his army. Dureau and I had gone into the dreams of Luce’s army of Daywalkers and whispered truths to them. We’d told them how they’d been lied to, that, contrary to everything they’d been taught, witches and Elementals were the same species. We’d also told them they were brothers and sisters beneath the skin with the people they’d been brought up to hate, and that those brothers and sisters would welcome them with open arms.

  True, the welcome had been more lukewarm than I would have liked—

  everyone at Kinloch Kirk had loved the idea in principle but were less enthusiastic when they were presented with the reality of a bunch of Daywalkers moving in. They were more understanding toward the women, because the women had been forced into Luce’s hideous breeding program, which was little more than forced rape in a hope to increase his population of soldiers.

  Regardless, our plan had worked, and the Daywalkers who had decided to come over were enjoying their new freedom – albeit a little anxiously. It had been a double victory; we’d freed the Daywalkers from the oppression of Luce, and we’d freed ourselves from imminent fear of attack.

  But we all knew this was just a setback to Luce; he would find another way. He always found another way. Worse still, Luce was vindictive, and he was the supreme grudge holder. There was a reason it was Sinjin, more than any other, who harbored suspicions of the Daywalkers in our camp; because he knew Luce would guess who was responsible and would want vengeance against that person. That person being me.

  Luce would come for me; it was just a matter of when.

  “At least before we had a rough idea of what Luce was planning,”

  said Jolie, her eyes drifting to where Emma played on the floor, taking comfort in her daughter’s laughter. “Now… who knows?”

  “He has fewer people than he had; we have more,” I tried to be optimistic. “I like those odds.”

  “Now we just need to convince the men in our lives that the Daywalkers are our people,” smiled Jolie, ruefully. “And convince our new friends that we want them here.” I took a deep breath, and my sister faced me with interest. “Bryn? What is it?”

  “I think I have an idea.”

  #

  The Highland Games went back centuries. The modern format revealed mortals competing annually, but the tradition of Scottish tribes coming together to match each other in feats of

  strength and athleticism had its roots in a more distant past. It was a way of meeting your rivals without the need for bloodshed, a way of strengthening bonds between old friends, and a way of cementing new alliances. I’d come up with the idea of playing some sort of game together (frankly, I’d been thinking baseball), but it was Odran, the king of the Fae, and the most Scottish person I’d ever met, who suggested the Highland Games.

  “Whit cud be more appropriate?” he asked, in his broad highland accent.

  The Daywalkers had never come across the traditional highland sports before, and stared in baffled astonishment as Odran, wearing nothing but his kilt, tossed the caber. There was also the Braemar Stone (similar to the shot put), the hammer throw (using a heavy sledgehammer), the weight throw, and the sheaf toss. Justa lot of throwing heavy things around while grunting loudly. Luckily, there were other events.

  “It’s called what?” I asked.

  “Maide-leisg,” said Odran. It sounded like he was clearing his throat.

  “My dur lice?” I tripped over the Gaelic syllables.

  Odran threw back his head and laughed. “Lass, ye sound like a Sassenach.”

  “And that’s a bad thing, right?”

  The game involved two men or women sitting on the ground with their feet pressed together, pulling a stick between them. Odran was the champion and not about to let anyone new win. He wasn’t exactly good at making the newcomer
s feel at home. Fortunately, the Daywalkers entered into the spirit of the thing and lost good-naturedly to the overbearing Fae.

  Even more fortunately, the events did go beyond the traditional feats of strength. There were foot races, archery, and an obstacle course. The Daywalkers were quick on their feet and managed to get their own back on Odran, while Dureau and his sister Audrey dominated the archery games.

  In my current condition, I was unable to compete in most events.

  Still, I was an enthusiastic spectator, and I was delighted to see the Underworlders and Daywalkers finally beginning to mix.

  Yes, this had been an excellent idea because I saw smiles and heard laughter. There was camaraderie, joking, and more than a little teasing.

  I watched Odran commiserate the losers of the Maide-leisg and grudgingly congratulate the winner of the foot race. I saw Dureau and Adam, the first Daywalker who’d come to us, going head to

  head in archery, stirred by the camaraderie of competition. I watched Klaasje wrestling with one of the female Daywalkers—both knew what they were doing, and it attracted a good crowd (mostly male). It was friendly, convivial, and everything I’d hoped it would be.

  With one exception.

  On the sidelines, watching, a dark figure stood apart. Like me, Sinjin was a spectator, but he didn’t seem to be enjoying what he saw. He watched like a hawk, his ice-blue eyes alert to every move, as if any of these people might at any point prove a threat to me.

  “You know,” I went up to him, “I let you drink my blood this morning specifically so you’d be able to come out in daylight and join in. Why don’t you stop scowling at everyone and actually have some fun?”

  He gave me an almost affronted look. “You wish that I, Sinjin Sinclair, master vampire, should use my unmatched physical gifts to play a few silly games?” He glared at those around him. “I would most certainly kill all these buffoons. Accidentally.”

  “Scared, huh?” I changed my tactic. “I don’t blame you. It would be embarrassing for a master vampire to get his ass kicked in front of everyone.”

  “If you think there is anyone here who could kick my arse , then you are shamefully mistaken.”

  I smiled. “Prove it.”

  “ Bête Noir , are you really trying reverse psychology on me?” He tutted. “I expected better from you.”