Duke wrestled free from Gregor and ran to her limp form. She didn’t move as he nudged her with his nose.
Gregor examined his arm. The claws had drawn blood, but the wounds weren’t deep. Kitten scratches. “That went well.”
Duke looked up and thumped his tail on the cave floor.
“I suppose we should put her back in bed.” He lifted her off the ground and arranged her gangly limbs on the bed of leaves she’d made for herself in the cave, smoothing his cloak around her shoulders. She wasn’t so intimidating now. “Let's hope she's in a better mood the next time she wakes up.”
Next time? He shook his head at where his thoughts were travelling. He should leave her as he found her. Everything about her screamed trouble.
But when he saw her wince in her sleep, his heart softened. She was hurt, and he knew how to help her. But first, he needed more hykona leaves. Judging by the mass of blackened leaves in her wound, she’d been hit by something tipped with poison, and he wouldn’t be able to heal her completely until he removed all traces of it.
He stepped back and surveyed the cave. She’d probably appreciated a fire, some warm clothes and maybe some food, too. A mental list formed in his mind, and he repeated the items under his breath over and over again on the way back to his house so he wouldn’t forget them. It wasn’t a commitment. Just give her a few things until she got on her feet again. Then she’d go back into the wild.
But a small sliver of his mind hoped she stayed a bit longer.
***
Night had fallen when Ranealya opened her eyes. Dancing flames illuminated the sides of the cave walls, and the smell of roasting meat turned her stomach into a growling beast. She sat up and let the fur blanket fall to her waist. Then she tested her left shoulder, cringing when she moved it. It hurt less than before, and the image of white magic and a man’s face flashed across her mind.
A log crackled in the fireplace, and she flinched. Her gaze darted around the area, looking for any signs of movement. A man sat across the fire, the same one she thought she’d dreamed up earlier. The one who called himself Gregor.
He feigned a yawn. “I guess it's time for me to go home.” When her gaze never wavered, he began to squirm under scrutiny. “There's some leftover quail here, if you're hungry. I mean, I'm sure you're hungry—but if you want something to eat—” He ran his fingers through his hair. “No one knows you're here, and I'm sure you prefer to keep it that way, so don't make too much noise or attack anybody or anything like that.”
His rambling amused her to no end. He was trying so hard to be brave in front of her. As if she could harm him. She couldn’t shift as long as the Azekborn’s poison flowed through her veins, and she was too weak to kill him. But he’d seen her in her natural state. Surely, he wasn’t so dense as to not know what she was. And as such, she needed to silence him. But why did the idea of his lifeless hazel eyes staring back her cause a deep ache in her chest? He was just a human, after all.
He approached her with caution slowing his movements, carrying fresh hykona leaves, water, and a soft cloth in his hands. He knelt beside her. When he removed some of the blackened leaves stuffed in her wound, she flinched and grabbed his arm, digging her nails into his flesh.
To his credit, he didn’t scream. His face tightened for a second before he drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “I need to clean the wound out,” he explained in a surprisingly calm voice. “The hykona leaves are black now.”
Her grip loosened, and her eyes flickered to her wound. So, he knew about healing. Perhaps he would prove useful after all. She could always delay his death long enough for him to finish healing her. A few seconds passed before she released him. Then she turned her head to the side, allowing him full access to the wound.
“So, you've finally realized I'm not trying to hurt you.” He removed the remaining leaves in one saturated clump, causing her to gasp. “Sorry, I—” He sponged the edge of the wound with a damp cloth, but she tensed further, waiting for the burning to ease.
He sighed and sat back on his heels. When she peeked back at him, his mouth formed a perfect circle. What did he find so fascinating about her? Then he shook his head and wiped his hand across his face. “Do you trust me to use magic on you? I can try to take the pain away, but I may end up causing you to fall asleep.”
She said nothing but loosened her grip on the fur blanket she’d been clutching the whole time.
His hand shook as he reached across her. At this angle, she could easily rip his throat out if he tried anything. Misty white light flowed from his fingers to the injured shoulder. The pain vanished, and a purr of appreciation vibrated deep in her chest. By the goddess, she hadn’t felt this relaxed in years.
He withdrew his hands and reached for the cloth. This time, she allowed him to work without interruption.
“What injured you?” When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Did you get into a fight?” He packed the wound with the leaves. “What kind of poison is this? Where did it come from?”
She snarled in response, and Gregor jumped back. He was asking far too many questions. The less his kind knew, the better.
“I think I may be able to heal it tomorrow, though.” He stood and held out a tunic. “I ask that you please—um—wear this. Even though you seem more animal than human, I can still tell that you're a female, and…”
His cheeks flushed in the firelight as he struggled to find the right words without embarrassing himself further. Despite his efforts, his eyes kept returning to her body. Did he really find her fur covered breasts attractive? When was the last time he saw a naked woman? Judging by his appearance, quite a while. Stubble covered his thin cheeks, and his pale brown hair hung loose, curling around his shoulders in a somewhat tangled mess that matched his wrinkled clothes. But underneath it all, he had a handsome face, as far as humans went. And the fact he didn’t find her repulsive almost made her feel sorry for what she needed to do to him eventually.
He draped the tunic over her body and shook his dog awake. “I suggest you put that on while the spell is still working so it isn't too painful. Duke and I will be back in the morning to check on you.”
He paused at the entrance of the cave and muttered something under his breath. A flash of blue filled the opening, leaving behind a filmy curtain in its wake.
Ranealya’s gut twisted. Just when she was beginning to think she might have found a human worth trusting, he locked her in this cave with a magical barrier. He probably wanted to keep her prisoner here until he returned with the Azekborn.
She waited until she could no longer smell him before approaching the barrier. Sparks crackled on her fingertips as she raked them across it. When it didn’t waiver, she pressed her palm against it and leaned closer. The barrier was as solid as a dungeon door. She had become his prisoner.
***
Ranealya sighed and pressed her head against the damp cave wall. Dawn was approaching. She was still too weak to shift into any intimidating form, although she might be able to try something small, and there was nothing in this cave she could use as a weapon if he attacked her. Part of her knew she would have to kill him for seeing her in her natural form—humans should never have that kind of knowledge of shape-shifters—but she hesitated. If he knew what she was, why had he gone through all the trouble to heal her?
Complicating matters was the way he stared at her as if she was a normal woman and not a fur-covered monstrosity. Even members of her own family had turned their backs on her when they saw what she’d become, calling her the cursed one. When she remembered the intensity of Gregor’s gaze, though, it almost took her breath away. No man had ever had this kind of effect on her. Why him?
Regardless of anything else, she was indebted to him for saving her life, and the idea left a bitter taste in her mouth. She may be little more than a beast, but she still remembered the code of behavior she’d followed before she’d been changed into what she was now. If his life was ever in danger, she was obligated to d
efend him.
She would spare him for now and see what he did. Yes, it may be breaking the rules to watch and wait but if he meant what he said about not wanting others to discover her, though, her secret might be safe with him. If he told others, his life would forfeit.
But she refused to remain his prisoner.
***
The dark clouds in the distance forecasted a possible storm within the next few hours. Gregor pulled his cloak tighter around him and trudged back to the cave with the wounded shape-shifter inside. Sleep had evaded him most of the night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. The sensual curves of her body. The haunted glow of her eyes. The way she alternated between being a fierce huntress to a showing him a glimmer of trust. She still puzzled him. He wondered what she would do now that her injuries were healed. Despite her odd behavior and the risk she posed, he wanted to know more about her and hoped she would stay in the area a bit longer.
Duke continued his usual routine of digging in the drifts and running through the trees, unfazed by the cold wind or the falling snow. He paused at the barrier of the cave and wagged his tail, appearing almost as eager as Gregor was to check on the wounded shape-shifter.
He lowered the barrier and expected to find her where he left her. Instead, an empty cavern greeted him. The fire had burned down the embers, leaving an icy chill to permeate the space. The woman had vanished.
Gregor knitted his brows together and rubbed his chin. How could this be possible? The barrier should have kept her here. The mystery of the wounded wild woman widened threefold. Only a Master Mage could disrupt the barrier he cast last night, and even then, it would take hours to do so. She could barely stand when he left her.
Duke’s barking interrupted his thoughts, followed by a flutter of wings that came close enough to Gregor’s head to tousle his hair. Duke chased after whatever flew out of the cave, leaving him to stumble through the drifts after the dog. When he came to the tree Duke was barking at, he saw an owl high in the branches. The wind ruffled its snowy feathers as it watched from above, unmoved by the dog below. “It is just an owl, Duke. Leave it alone.”
“No. Different owl.”
Gregor took a second look at the owl. A sudden chill that was not due to the wind raced down his spine. Yes, there was something different about this owl. Something about the eyes. He focused his mental energy and asked the owl what it was doing. Its silence only added to his unease. Most animals responded to his questions. Instead, the owl flexed its talons and hissed at him.
He grabbed Duke by the loose skin on his neck and pulled the dog away. If it was his wounded shape-shifter, she was making it very clear she wanted to be left alone. “Time to go home.” His voice sounded calmer than he felt. “Leave the owl alone.”
He could not escape the feeling that he was being watched the entire journey back to the house. Every time he looked over his shoulder, though, nothing was there. Unease seeped into his veins and coiled in stomach. His pace increased with the beating of his heart. He was running up the stairs to his study by the time he returned home.
***
Ranealya landed on a tree branch outside of Gregor’s cottage and shook with silent laughter. And here she worried that the form of an owl wouldn’t be enough to spook him. Obviously, he’d been told too many tales of the evil shape-shifters as a child.
Good. That will keep him from telling anyone about me.
Her shoulder throbbed, reminding her that her wounds hadn’t completely healed. She glided down to the ground and shifted back into her normal form. The wound appeared almost closed on the outside, but it would probably take another day or two to form a pink scar across her flesh. Wounds from the Azekborn always took longer to heal than ordinary ones.
She sniffed the air for the scent of brimstone, offering a quick prayer to the goddess Elios that the Azekborn wouldn’t find her until she had fully recuperated from her injuries. When she discovered no traces of them in the immediate area, she turned her attention back to the problem a few hundred feet away. Gregor Meritis knew what she was, and until she figured out what to do with him, she had no plans on leaving the area.
CHAPTER 3
Kira paced the small room. Master Tyrrus should be back by now. What was taking so long? She ran her hand through her cropped hair and paused to listen for any footsteps in the dark tunnel outside that stretched beyond the door. Nothing. She cast a glance at the stone arch on the opposite side of the room and resumed pacing.
They were playing a dangerous game. Every few weeks, Master Tyrrus would appear with one or two heavily cloaked strangers. Kira’s job was to activate the arch, allowing the strangers to disappear into it. She knew better than to ask questions. All she knew was that the strangers didn’t want to be caught and that the King’s guards were looking for them. It didn’t take her long to put two and two together and realize they were part of the Resistance. And by helping them, she and Master Tyrrus were committing treason.
Not that they were law-abiding citizens of the kingdom by any means.
A shadow flickered in the tunnel. Kira prepared to cast one of the defensive spells Master Tyrrus had taught her. She wouldn’t give up without a fight.
“Kira, set the table,” a voice hissed from the darkness. “We have guests.”
She relaxed, recognizing the voice. Master Tyrrus ushered two cloaked figures into the room. These “guests” would not be staying long. When the door shut, she slipped a pink crystal into a divot in the stone and murmured a spell. As soon as the gate filled with blue light, the strangers disappeared through it without saying a word. She removed the crystal, and the wall behind the arch reappeared.
Master Tyrrus collapsed in a nearby chair. “That was a close one,” he gasped, wiping the sweat off his balding head. He was still breathing hard, and Kira suspected he had been running—or at least, moving as fast as his pudgy form could.
She poured him a glass of water and sat next to him. “What do you mean?”
He removed his dark blue cloak before taking the glass. “We were followed,” he said and drained the glass. She refilled it, and he drank it as quickly as before. “It took us a while to lose them.”
“Them?”
“The Azekborn.”
Her heart rose into her throat. Yes, they’d always walked along the narrow rim of the law, but she never dreamed the Azekborn would be hunting them. “Master Tyrrus, please, I beg you, tell me what's going on.”
“Kira, we've been over this before. What you don't know, can't hurt you.”
“Wrong! If we have the Azekborn hunting us, then I think I have every right to know what I've gotten myself into. Then I can decide if I want to continue doing this.”
“You've never questioned my judgment before.”
“We never had the Azekborn after us before.”
Tyrrus sighed and leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his broad belly. “Some laws are meant to be broken, my child. Take you, for example. Just because you were born a girl, the law says you cannot be trained in magic.”
“I doubt the Azekborn are after us because of that”
“Correct you are. This is a far bigger matter. One you need not concern yourself with.”
Kira shoved back from the table and stood over him. “Why are you withholding information from me? I'm no longer a child—I deserve to know what's going on. Who are these people you keep bringing to the gate? Where are they going? What are they doing in Dromore? Are they the reason the Azekborn were following you? What—”
“Please, please, lower your voice. We don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves. I'll tell you what you need to know when you need to know it. Now, be a good girl, and go get us some food.” He pulled out two coins out of the pouch hanging from his belt.
Kira let her anger subside before taking the money. Every time he called her “my child” lately, her jaw tightened. She might have been a child when she was first apprenticed to him, but that was well over ten years ago.
Maybe one day he’d finally acknowledge her as his equal.
More than just fear drove her questions, though. She was also worried about him. Master Tyrrus had always been like a father to her, but he was getting older. The top of his bald head still glistened with sweat, and what was left of his gray hair hung damply around his shoulders. More wrinkles lined his face with each passing year. These secrets were taking their toll on him.
She placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “I'm sorry I lost my temper, Master Tyrrus.”
He patted her hand. “Quite alright, Kira. I sometimes forget that there are more factors involved in the situation that I can account for. I'm only trying to protect you, but please know I will tell you everything, should I need to.”
She nodded. “I'll go get some food while you rest. Anything in particular you want?”
“A barrel of cold beer would be lovely, but seeing as how that would be awkward for you to carry, some bread and cheese will be all that I need for the moment.” She was opening the door when he added, “Take care that you aren't being followed on the way back.”
“I will.”
Kira moved through the dark tunnels with the ease of a cat, navigating from memory and aided by flashes of dim light from the street above. These tunnels had been carved out over a century ago as a mine, but few people remembered they existed. Their secrecy soothed her frazzled nerves. The less people who knew about the strange visitors and the stone arch, the better. As a child, she’d frequently gotten lost in these tunnels, but as a grown woman, they were now her home.
She reached the end of one tunnel and climbed the wooden ladder up to the surface of the street. A loose flagstone covered the entrance, which was further concealed in a twisted alley. Looking in either direction, she pulled herself out of the hole and covered it again. She took a deep breath and ventured into the crowded streets.
The Tears of Elios Page 2