Opening a hatch by his feet, Fen produced a small parcel wrapped in thick, waxy parchment. Unable to suppress his curiosity, Rhetahn peered over as the water shifter unwrapped it. A sour, musky scent rose into the air, the strong odor contrasting with the nondescript, grayish corm within.
After studying the palm-sized bulb, he fixed a narrow gaze on the water shifter. “I presume you’re aware trading snow daisy root is forbidden in the Shifterlands?”
“Of course, Lord.” Fen’s reply was casual. “I found this on a recent trip south. No payment involved.”
“For crying out loud, Fen.” Dax raised his palms to the sky. “Why are you carrying truth root? You know it’s illegal.”
The water shifter shrugged. “I could toss it overboard like it never existed, or we could use it on our pretty, if rather ripe, human below deck and uncover what went on at the lodge. Your choice.”
Rhetahn’s pride baulked like a stubborn horse. “Toss it. The turncoat has monopolized my attention enough.”
Fen glanced at Dax, causing Rhetahn to grit his teeth. “I gave you an order, water shifter. I’d advise you to follow it. My patience wears thin tonight.”
Fen gave an elegant bow and made as if to throw the root overboard. At the last minute, he tossed it to the ground shifter, who backed along the gunwale.
“For fucks sake.” Rhetahn slammed his fist on the gunwale. “Has my realm lost its collective mind this week? I command you to throw it the fuck away.”
Dax shrugged. “If you’re certain you’ll be proved right, what will you lose by using it?”
Rhetahn fought the urge to rise, unsure what he would do if he got in the young man’s face. “You’re close to sedition, boy. You believe me weak now, unable to discipline my own followers?” He forced words through his clenched jaw. “Throw it overboard, or you will regret it.”
“Lord, Dax has a point.”
At Fen’s statement, Rhetahn whirled in his seat. “Why do you care, eel? The girl’s reckless actions in the forest may have caused the destruction of your precious lodge.”
Fen pointed at his friend, his gray gaze heated. “Him. Do you appreciate how rare it is for Dax to show true passion these days? If he believes in her innocence enough to make a stand against a god, his theory must have merit.”
Fen’s fervent words tempered Rhetahn’s fury. He glanced at the stalwart ground shifter who came to his rescue during the demon attack, led him to safety under the mountains, and fought by his side for the last few days.
Dax’s hands were clasped together. “Say yes. At least get confirmation ahead of killing her. If she’s as vile a traitor as you say, you’ve lost nothing. If she isn’t...”
Rhetahn massaged his temples. All he wanted was to go to sleep and forget everything. His mind churned with indecision. If the ground shifter was right and Libby lied in the woods...he snuffed the hope rising inside him. Affirmation of her treacherousness was the only thing the truth root would reveal.
“Are there any side effects, Fen?” he mumbled, wondering why he cared.
“Oh yes. She’ll be pugnaciously ill afterward, sick as a dog. It won’t matter if she’s a despicable apostate, will it?”
Rhetahn sighed. “Fine. If it will shut you both up, do what you need to do.”
After rummaging in another cubbyhole, Fen produced a mortar and pestle, both gray stone, the pestle with a polished wooden handle. After grinding the root into mulched strands, he blended it with blackcurrants and juniper berries, tipped the concoction into a flask of fresh water, then slipped below deck.
Rhetahn raised his brows at the water shifter’s aggressive voice, different from his previous cheeriness.
“You will bloody drink it, human. If you’re not going to eat, you’ll drink this instead to give you energy for the journey tomorrow. Because we don’t intend to carry you, I can promise you that. Either drink it of your own free will, or I’ll hold your nose and tip it down your throat.”
Furious scuffling preceded a feminine cry. Despite everything, Rhetahn’s inner dragon growled at the girl being manhandled. The ground shifter fidgeted uncomfortably, too. Both of them kept quiet when Fen emerged, slammed the mortar on the cabin roof and sidestepped back along the gunwale.
“Feisty, isn’t she?” He revealed the bright red patch on his hand, with a clear imprint of teeth marks. “I’m not averse to biting, but I tend to prefer an advance warning.”
“How long will it take to work?” Dax asked.
“Ten minutes at the most. It’s more concentrated than usual. With such a strong dose, we won’t have much time before she gets queasy. You two can observe from the doorway. The root will make her blurt the truth of everything. Lying will become impossible as long as she’s questioned alone, by one person.”
Rhetahn frowned. “Shouldn’t it be me?”
“I’d better do it. Asking suitable questions in the right way takes practice.” At their pointed glances, he smiled. “Of course, I’ve only practiced on vile traitors and enemies of The Three.”
After a few minutes, Rhetahn and Dax crept down the narrow steps. The green-tinged light was even hazier in the cabin. Sunrays filtered through the portholes, creating shadows in every corner. Libby knelt at the far end, her gag hanging around her slender neck. The ropes binding her wrists and ankles were still in place. She was blinking fast, as if awakening from a dream. Fen had warned them he would pose some awkward questions to ensure the truth root had taken affect. He wondered what the water shifter would ask her.
Fen lowered himself on the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight as he cleared his throat. Libby stared at the water shifter, like nothing else in the cabin was visible. Rhetahn waited, steeling himself to hear the treacherous words from the so-called innocent in front of him.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Libby
Revolving shadows filled Libby’s world and she tensed as the cabin walls closed around her. She attempted to focus on the timber floor, her stomach reeling from the concoction Fen forced her to drink. For energy, he had declared. If that was the case, why were her eyelids drooping and her surroundings darkening? Even the sounds of the river was muted, like a blanket was thrown over the cabin. Had she been poisoned?
For a single moment, fear filled her veins with ice, then her emotions began to ebb and flow. She bowed her head, like a puppet with broken strings. Lethargy tugged at her body, but sleep evaded her, as if she was waiting for something to happen prior to drifting off.
She remained crouching, swallowing to wash away the bitter taste. With the mulchy aroma of river water and the constant rocking of the boat, she’d spent the day nauseous. She’d come close to pleading with the men to allow her to change clothes, remembering the spare set in her rucksack, but resisted, upholding her hostile charade.
She hadn’t dared look at the god when he’d entered the cabin earlier, his bitter disdain ripping her heart into shreds. And she had proof now that Dax hadn’t believed her act. He’d whispered as much when he tried to give her food, beseeching her to admit her deception. She kept silent until he admitted defeat, leaving her alone with her foul odors and shattered heart.
A cough penetrated her dazed senses. She lifted her head with difficulty, searching the darkness for the source. When Fen came into view, she fixed on his handsome features, relieved to have something other than the swirling shadows to watch, although he seemed different than earlier. His teasing countenance was gone, his lips drawn in a stern line and his gray eyes glinting with intensity. She studied him, half-wondering if she’d fallen asleep.
“What is your name?” His voice sounded magnetic and smooth, like liquid silver.
“Libby,” she croaked. “You already know who I am, Fen.”
“Your full name, if you please.”
“Oh. Lissabet Donaire.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty. Why are you asking me these questions?”
The water shifter ignored her. “Are you a
virgin, Libby?”
“Yes.” Discomfiture washed across her, then ebbed away.
“Does it embarrass you, telling me that?”
“Yes, but I had to answer, despite it being an impertinent question. Why do I have to answer you?”
He disregarded her again. “What were you and Lord Rhetahn doing upstairs in the lodge, earlier this morning?”
“Kissing,” she said dreamily. “I sat on his lap with his arms around me. His mouth was so hot against my skin—”
“Right then.” Fen’s voice held laughter. “I thought that might be an amusing line of questioning. We’ll leave it there, though, in case you steam up the portholes. How are you feeling?”
“A bit dizzy and rather confused.”
“Confused about what?”
“Why everything has gone dark, and I can only see you, like an oil lamp surrounded by mist.”
Fen smiled. “How poetic. Do you feel nauseous?”
“Sort of. I’m frightened you might have poisoned me.”
“You’re in no danger, my dear. I want to ask you some questions regarding what happened at the lodge, after Jahda returned.”
She rose on her knees. “No, don’t ask about the lodge. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I do, Libby,” he crooned, “and you’ll answer my questions, won’t you?”
“Yes Fen.”
Fearful resentment touched her before tranquil compliance replaced it again. She had to answer his questions. He was her anchor to reality in this dream-like state, her only light in the darkness. A fleeting worry crossed her mind; had Rhetahn’s world gone dark, too?
The water shifter’s persistent voice filled her head again. “Why did you run away when you left the lodge?”
“I didn’t,” she protested. “I pretended I did.”
A muttered rumble came from deep in the shadows. Fen clicked his fingers, bringing her sluggish gaze back to him.
“Tell me more.” His voice thrummed with insistence. “If you didn’t run away, why did Jahda drag you out of the river?”
“The eachy pulled me in.”
“The eachy? You were attacked?”
“Yes, I fell for its helpless child act like a muttonhead. It would have been an embarrassing death if the fight had gone the other way.”
“Did you kill the eachy, Libby?” The astonishment was obvious in his tone.
She inclined her head. “Nearly drowned in the process. I used my magic in the end. Lost my dagger, though.”
The water shifter exhaled. “Why did Jahda claim she caught you trying to escape?”
“I told her to.”
“Why?”
She gave a pensive sigh. “Because there was no other way to convince him to kill me.”
Another growl came from the darkness, curse-like and familiar. She frowned, searching the shadows. Once again Fen snapped his fingers.
“Focus on me, Libby.” He sounded irritated. “Are you talking about Lord Rhetahn?”
“Of course.” She felt rather annoyed herself. “Who else?”
“Why are you determined he should sacrifice you?”
“Because I am the sacrifice.” She lifted her chin. “I was chosen to die. Not some innocent council servant. I won’t allow him to kill someone else in my place, and he can’t use the Rondure like we hoped, now we’ve been told it can bring back Lord Storren.”
“You pretended you were a traitor, to trick him into killing you?”
She nodded. “Jahda reckoned he wouldn’t believe me. I had to try.”
“Why are you crying?” the water shifter asked softly.
She noticed in hazy bewilderment that she was crying. “Because of what I said to him. Didn’t you hear me? I called him such awful, malicious things. I didn’t mean a single word. I had to make him believe, though, so I shot my magic around—”
“Dark magic—you channeled dark magic. How?”
“I have no idea. I used it for the first time against the eachy. I didn’t do it on purpose. I can’t believe I can use magic in the first place, let alone summon a particular type.” She wiped her bound hands across the tears dampening her cheeks. “I don’t want to die, but he can’t be powerless any longer than necessary and he’ll only kill me if he hates me—”
“Why are you so upset about what you said?”
“Because...” She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, fighting the compulsion to respond.
“Answer me.” The command in Fen’s voice lashed her like a whip.
“Because I love him a bit.” She followed up her whisper by yielding to a bark of laughter. “I’m falling in love with a man I’ve known for less than a week, who happens to be the immortal dragon god destined to kill me. How pathetic. Have you ever heard such absurdity?”
Fen smiled. “Love is an odd state of being. Overrated, in my opinion.”
“I can’t help it. He’s nothing like the god I imagined. He’s so...normal. He’s funny, brave, protective, and much more sentimental than he lets on. Not to mention he’s incredibly handsome and an unbelievably good kisser.”
The water shifter chuckled. “I’ll take your word for the last one.”
He glanced across the cabin, gave a slight nod, then rose. Her brow furrowed as she followed his smooth movements. When he vanished into the shadows, she panicked. “Fen, don’t go!”
The shadows swirled as another figure materialized, and her heart smashed against her ribs. Rhetahn studied her without blinking.
“I hope you didn’t hear any of that,” she blurted out.
A smile touched his lips as he settled on the bed, his gaze never straying from her face. “I heard everything.”
She stared, aghast. “Not good.”
“No?” He raised his brows. “Why?”
She tried to gesture, tricky with bound hands. “Because now you know I lied.”
“Yes, I do. How did you convince Jahda to lie also?”
“She didn’t want to. It was the best way to renew your power with haste. Rhetahn, did you really hear everything I said?”
“Yes, Libby, I did.”
Her cheeks burned. “Even the bit about me falling in love with you?”
The god’s stare grew even more penetrating. “Even that.”
“Not good,” she said. “Not good at all. How will I convince you to kill me now?”
He gave a small laugh. “That futile ship has sailed, I’m afraid. Now, shall we untie you? I don’t suppose we need the bonds anymore. Unless you plan another fake escape attempt?”
“Would it work?”
He chuckled again. “No.”
She sighed. “Might as well take them off. They do smart a bit.”
He crouched beside her and untied the ropes, his expression tightening at the angry red marks on her skin.
“Any dwarf ointment left?” he called into the shadows.
“Are Dax and Fen there? I can’t see them. Why is it dark, by the way? Are we underground again?”
He smiled. “I’ve missed your questions, little cat.”
Her tears welled again. “Rhetahn, I’m sorry for the awful things I said. I know how proud you are, and I thought if I hurt your feelings it would be easier for you to kill me.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” His voice was gruff. “I should have seen through your pretense for an act of selfless desperation. I never comprehended what a thin-skinned, hypersensitive fool I am.”
“You’re not a fool.” She patted his hand. “Although you are supercilious and big-headed from time to time, which can make you imprudent.”
He chuckled and helped her stand, steadying her in place. The shadows diminished and the cabin walls materialized, the soft glow from the portholes unbearably bright.
“Ugh.” She swayed. “I feel sick.”
“Let’s get you on deck. You can throw up over the side.”
“This is the first time I’ve ever gotten seasick you know.” She wobbled as he guided her to the steps.
“It’s strange, as I go sailing on our local river quite a bit at home. Although I don’t tend to smell like rotten eggs when I do it. Can I change my clothes now I’m no longer a prisoner? I packed some spares.”
“Did you?” The god brightened. “We’d all appreciate it, after we expel the truth root from your system.”
“Truth root?” She inhaled the fresh air with relief when they emerged.
She glanced around the hazy green space as the shadows in her vision receded, revealing the reeds on the bank and the willow boughs drooping over the boat. The sun’s dusky amber hues filtered through the twisted vines. Evening birdsong trilled around them and midges undulated across the reeds, swallows swooping to catch them.
She turned to keep viewing the birds and a scream tore from her throat; for crouched on the cabin roof was an enormous wolf.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Instinctive terror rendered her helpless, frozen in place. Double the size of a regular dog, the mottled brown animal scrutinized her from its reclined position, showing neither fear nor aggression. Its massive paws were tipped with blunt talons. Its broad muzzle and barreled chest were as white as snow, its eyes pale green, a familiar color.
She breathed easier. “Dax?”
The wolf lifted its fluffy tail and dropped it in place. She studied him in fascination, her queasiness forgotten.
“He’s on sentry duty,” Rhetahn said. “His senses are enhanced in this form.”
“He was a leopard earlier.” Her fingers positively itched to check if the wolf’s thick fur was as soft as it looked.
“Ground shifters have up to four animal forms, depending on their power level. I’d be surprised if Dax didn’t have at least three.”
“He has,” Fen said from on the gunwale. “Wolf, leopard, and horse. I suspect he has a fourth, but he’s never confirmed it. I reckon it’s something embarrassing, like a pot-bellied pig.”
The wolf raised its hackles and growled.
Fen snickered.
She half-wondered if the water shifter had a death wish. “Do your people have the same amount of animal forms?”
“We do. The most powerful have four. Air shifters have several too, though we don’t spot them often.” He gave Rhetahn a mischievous glance. “Only the poor, noble dragon shifters have to make do with one.”
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