by Mel Teshco
But now the rebels had been defeated, there’d be no more questions about his heritage. He’d resume his spot as rightful leader.
She let out a heavy sigh. She wouldn’t be by his side.
Hurt unfurled within. Liars they’d both been, but why hadn’t he revealed his identity? He’d admitted knowing who she was and yet, he’d played along with her game, allowed her to stretch out the untruths until she’d all but bowed over with guilt. Why hadn’t he trusted her?
One of the cotesh women placed a bowl of salad greens and crumbled goat cheese before her. She looked up at the servant, placing a hand on her smooth, hairless forearm. “Could I ask you something?”
The other woman froze, then nodded. So quiet and withdrawn, she was the antithesis to her powerful, golden eagle form.
Her fingers gentled on the other woman’s arm. “Why do all the people of the king’s palace wax their body hair?”
The servant cast a quick look behind her, ensuring they were alone. “Waxing keeps us all the same.”
“Go on.”
The other woman flushed. “Even in our human form, some of us have downy, feather-like hair, others have thicker, pelt-like hair.” Her eyes looked troubled. “It’s for our own protection. At least until the king—”
“Ghiana, that’s enough.”
The servant stiffened, then pulled from her clasp.
Her gaze followed Ghiana as she hurried away. What had she been about to say?
But all interest fled as Judas stepped before her. He leaned heavily on a carved cane, bare-chested with his wound dressed in bandages and the rakkia cloth styled into comfortable, loose fitting pants. His face had paled, undoubtedly from the effort of walking.
She wiped all emotion from her face, her hands curling into fists to stop from touching him. Guilt pricked her conscience. He’d repeatedly asked for her, but she’d avoided him since he’d woken. She’d been building up the courage to leave once and for all.
She couldn’t lose control now.
“Your Majesty,” she greeted coolly, consciously distancing herself. “You should be resting.”
His inscrutable stare held hers. He didn’t need to say the words. “I missed you.”
She pulled away from his stare. “Sorry, I—”
“Don’t.” The word exploded from his mouth, harsh, unforgiving. And as though he couldn’t bear to face, to hear her excuses, he spun away.
Her attention jerked back his way, her eyes widening at seeing the faint marks along his spine. She’d created those scratches. Created the whole hot mess Judas was in now.
Her chair scraped loud in the thick silence as she pushed to her feet, her salad untouched. “I can’t stay,” she said to his back, somehow glad he didn’t face her. She just might not have the will to leave.
Silence greeted her news, though his back muscles had tightened as stiff as his shoulders. He turned to her, his nostrils flared and his cheeks stained with exertion and barely restrained emotion. “Why not?”
“Your people won’t ever forgive the larakytes, nor shape shifters in general. Not after what happened to your stepfather, their king.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t intend testing their loyalty a second time around.”
“You don’t wish to hear my solution?”
She shook her head and stepped away from the table, forcing back the tears ready to fall. “There is no solution.” She swallowed. Wanting only to touch him, comfort him. She did neither. She had no choice. She had to go. “Goodbye, Judas.”
My king.
“Angel wait!”
But she didn’t heed his command. Didn’t stop and turn around. Not even when she heard his laboring gait, his stick crashing to the floor.
His half-sobbed curse.
Only when she’d returned to the mandeolo and gathered the supplies she needed for her escape back to the Scantia forest, did she allow the tears to come.
She forced unsteady legs to carry her to the tunnel that was, ironically, her quickest route home. She’d stay human while water and food was plentiful, then shift into panther to finish her journey home.
Taking one last look at the room where her body, her heart and her soul had been brought to life, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Judas.”
Chapter Seven
Three weeks later…
Dawn light filtered weakly through the trees as Akeisha stood on a small hillock and pressed an unsteady hand to her brow.
Yesterday the Scantia forest had been alive with light and laughter as the larakytes had gone about their daily chores. Today she could barely take in the scene before her.
Destruction. Chaos. Fear.
The humans had finally done it. They’d all but destroyed her people.
The burned remains of the home she’d shared with her father smoked faintly below her, a scent that mingled in the breeze with horrid whiffs of charred flesh.
She shuddered, nausea roiling in her gut. But she’d already retched until there was nothing more to retch. She could only find solace in the fact her father had been spared, along with their handful of servants.
When humans had torched the larakyte homes in the early hours of the morning, she’d woken to the distant screams of what she now knew had been someone burning alive. She’d barely had time to wake everyone in the household before they’d escaped to the underground cellar.
They’d almost choked to death on the smoke and incredible heat as the house above roared with flames, but somehow they’d survived. Her hand dropped to cover her mouth. Unlike most of the larakytes.
No tears came. Her grief had long ago dried up. All she could do was comfort her people with their haunted eyes, those who’d lost their parents, their children, siblings.
The cowardly humans hadn’t given the larakytes a chance, not the women, the children, the sick or elderly. The bastards had burned houses without discrimination, without mercy.
She’d been right to leave Judas and his people. He might accept their antipathy, she couldn’t. His people would never get over their prejudices. Oh god. Had the attack come from his command? Because right then it was all too evident he’d chosen the Zanneeans over the larakytes.
Human over shifter.
She stifled a gasp as pain, sharp and savage, flared. Rage as quickly seethed. How self-centered and stupid she’d been hoping Judas would follow her, would beg to take her back.
Bloody hell. She’d been a fool to think that Judas would be the answer to all their prayers. A fool to believe he cared about her and her people.
Her dad stepped beside her, his face gaunt and blackened by soot, his skin underneath pale and pulled taut with anxiety. “There’s nothing here for us anymore.”
She nodded dully, guilt and shame spreading through her body right along with the anger. “Of course.”
It was her fault these people were dead. She’d encouraged them to remain in the forest. She’d promised salvation and instead, had brought damnation.
“Don’t blame yourself.” Her father’s voice cracked, “I made the final decision to stay. Not you.”
“I talked you into it,” she said hoarsely, “and don’t dare deny it.” She looked away from him, to the straggle of people gathering before them, awaiting instruction. She locked an arm through her father’s. His trembling confirmed he wasn’t up to the task of leadership. Not now. Perhaps never again.
Her voice rang out clear and steady, the antithesis to her inner chaos, her grief, guilt and rage. “Attend to any injuries. Salvage whatever you can. We leave in an hour.”
The forest may have given her and her people a false sense of security. The desert would provide no such illusion.
Sand and intolerable heat equaled death.
But she knew of a safe place, somewhere sacred to shifters. The oasis in the desert; the caves, was somewhere they could not only survive, but thrive.
She could thank Judas for that at least.
She would lead her people to safety.
A screec
h high overhead caused her to tilt her head back. A golden eagle. A myskyt.
Her hands locked into fists. Judas would soon know of the success of the raiding party. Did he care, let alone remember who she was? He’d made her believe he loved her. And she’d fallen for the act, for him.
Not anymore. Never again.
She squared her shoulders. She’d learned her lesson.
Shocked gasps sounded from the straggle of people below. She frowned, scanning the larakytes who all looked skyward. She looked up too.
Golden eagles descended in ever-tightening circles from above, their outstretched wings looming larger and larger.
A snap of branches diverted her attention away from the skies. She swung around. Her eyes widened at the panther emerging from the trees, coat blacker than the glistening oil found underground.
His bold eyes caught hold of hers. She recoiled as though hit.
Her vision blurred into a red haze as simmering rage boiled into full blown, out-of-control wrath.
Not content with destroying her home, her people, he’d come to claim victory himself?
Her father’s breath whooshed out sharply beside her. “A nightmix.”
She didn’t respond. Her stare didn’t once falter from Judas. And somehow the intensity of her emotions perceived his change long before he became human. Long before he stood statue-still and gloriously naked.
The grays, along with perhaps twenty more horses loaded with saddle packs, which she guessed were also shifters, stopped to form a semi-circle around their king.
When two of the eagles swept down and settled onto his outstretched arms, she couldn’t help but think he looked more than just a king. Even with the long, jagged scar along his torso he was beautiful, a nefarious idol, bold and invincible.
With death all around her, it only made his betrayal cut all the deeper.
Her heart pounded, loathing filling her veins. She took two jerky steps forward, eyes burning. “Because of you, many of my people are dead.” She gritted her teeth, then spat, “Innocent people who didn’t know the meaning of violence died their own special kind of hell—burned in their own homes!”
One of the eagles resting on Judas’ arm, screeched, wings outstretched and beady eyes glaring at her. Judas’ jaw tightened but he stayed silent as he brought his arms forward, easing one eagle and then the other onto a branch at shoulder height.
He stepped closer, so that they were only a few yards apart. “We both assumed Raffia’s and Vasilous’ death would suppress the followers. No one could foresee how it would instead trigger further revolt.” His stare searched hers. “I had nothing to do with this attack.” His eyes glittered. “But you can rest assured that those involved have been dealt with.”
She swallowed back the bile lodged in her throat, for the first time aware of the dried blood spattering his arms and chest. A wave of heat flushed her face. “It’s too late for my friends though, isn’t it?” Tears formed, blinding her. She pressed a hand to her belly. “Too late for the children.”
Her father stepped beside her, clasping her forearm. “Akeisha, I’m not sure we should blame anyone but the men who—”
She shrugged free, allowing the rage to fully take her. “This isn’t just about what happened here this morning. He’s a nightmix, Dad. He’d slit our throats the moment he loses control of his beast. He’s just the same as the men—his men—who killed our friends…family. Untrustworthy. Treacherous. Dangerous.”
The pain cutting across Judas’ features meant nothing to her, not in that moment, not when the people she’d known and held deep affection for were piles of ashes waiting to be carried away in the next wind.
She stepped forward, her hand becoming paw. Raising her arm, she looked into his eyes. And stilled.
If eyes were mirrors to the soul, then he was pure and true. She could read his inner pain and sorrow, his belief in her.
Oh god.
Despite her accusations, she couldn’t mistake the love in his stare. Unconditional and without reservation.
Her arm lowered to her side as hostility drained right out of her.
She’d just lost her home, her people. She couldn’t lose the man she loved too.
Besides, this wasn’t her. Fiery independence didn’t equate to aggression. It wasn’t how the larakytes behaved. That should have been the behavior of a nightmix.
Except Judas had shown nothing but integrity and honor.
Sobs overtook her body. When she crumpled it was Judas’ arms she felt around her. And she was glad. Oh so glad…
She woke to the sound of creaking wheels and the rocking motion of a wagon. She moaned, half-recalling the sickly potion someone had poured down her throat to help her sleep. It must have been one of Fontaine’s concoctions.
She felt Judas sitting beside her even before she opened her eyes. A burst of shame hit her front and center as she looked up at his serious face. The toxic emotions she’d carried around for so long had fermented into a hate she’d directed at the wrong person. “Judas, what I said…I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t you?” He raked a hand through his hair, looking pale and somber even dressed once again in his king’s traditional robe. “Perhaps you were right.”
“No.” She sat up, ignoring the sudden dizziness, the baking heat of the wagon that left her throat parched. “The only ones to blame were the men who committed the crime. I was just…I wanted to condemn someone other…other than myself.”
“Angel. You’re not at fault,” he said gently. “Not even close.”
“But I am. I encouraged everyone to stay in the forest. I wanted to save my people, unlike—”
Judas leaned close. “Unlike your servant who was raped and stabbed before she was left to die by the humans looking for you?”
She nodded stiffly, feeling the blood drain from her face. He sat so close, yet she’d never felt more alone. “Yes.”
He touched her face with a gentle hand. “I’d never do that to you, angel.”
“And yet you stayed away for three weeks.”
He shook his head. “Not by choice.” He clasped a hand to his chest. “My wound became badly infected. It was said only the will of the gods and Fontaine’s medicines saved me.” His thumb traced her lower lip. “I know it was the dreams of finding you that kept me alive.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?” she whispered.
“On my life,” he said hoarsely. “You must know—I love you.”
Her breath caught, her heart thumping with joy. Only when he said, “Angel, come here,” did she throw herself into his arms. No holding back. No second guesses. No doubts.
She wanted to be wrapped in the security of his hold and never let him go again. God, she’d been so stupid. The man she’d hoped to make fall in love with her had been the one man who’d snared her heart.
She’d been too damn scared she’d lose him too, lose yet another person she loved. Instead she’d turned on him, accused him of the most unspeakable acts to assuage even a little of her own guilt.
But he was right. There was no blame to be laid on anyone’s shoulders but the perpetrators who’d committed the terrible acts of torture and murder.
It was past time she accepted it.
The carriage jolted to a stop. Footsteps sounded and the back door opened. The scent of fresh water wafted inside the hot interior as her father peered in. “Ah, you’re awake. Good.” He grinned. Underneath his obvious excitement he almost looked…serene. “You’ve got to see this place! An oasis in the desert.”
She smiled, not wanting to burst his bubble by telling him she’d not only seen it, but had planned to bring their people here. “Okay. Just give me a minute.”
His grin widened, satisfaction lighting his eyes. “No hurry, take your time.”
Her father approved of seeing her in a nightmix’s arms? But of course he did. Not only was Judas a king, he carried shifter blood in his veins too. And he’d proven a nightmix wasn’t something to b
e feared. His human blood hadn’t tainted his larakyte half. Just the opposite.
As her father’s light footsteps faded, she pulled back and looked up at Judas. Her mind whirled. “The oasis and caves—they were part of the solution you spoke of, weren’t they?”
He nodded. “It has been my lifelong mission to protect any remaining shifters. We’ve been using the caves to hide them until they’re ready to integrate back into society. More and more humans are coming to terms with the shifters they’d once thought were human.”
“So you’re getting humans to accept us as humans first before they come to know us as shifters?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. There are many more humans than just Fontaine who welcome us as part of a diverse world.”
She released a slow breath, aware hope was already filling the void that’d once overflowed with so much anger. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He smiled, warmth emanating from him. He stood and held out a hand. “Let me show you something.”
After following him past the clear water of the oasis and many of its surrounding, lush trees, he stopped. She stilled beside him, mouth falling open.
“My father’s palace,” she whispered. Though she’d been young when they’d had no choice but to abandon it, she remembered it clearly. “But how?”
“After your home was pillaged and all but turned to rubble, I had it rebuilt, every stone carted here and reassembled. I knew the forest wasn’t going to protect the larakytes forever.” His lips pressed into a grim line. “If only I’d known how badly your people were suffering, I would have revealed my plans earlier.”
“I can hardly believe it,” she whispered, awed and shocked in equal measure. “It’s incredible.”
He’d done all this even before he’d known her. Done it without expecting anything in return except the satisfaction of knowing he’d saved even more shifter lives.
He placed a hand on her forearm, urging her forward. “Come, I want to show you one last thing.”
As they approached the huge double doors, with its panther head doorknobs, she pressed a hand to her mouth. Hanging from one of the decorative knobs a beautiful necklace glinted in the sun.