In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3

by Lisa Blackwood

  Don’t cry, she snarled to herself. I have not cried since I was a young girl. I’m not going to start now.

  “Easy, little one. I want you to return with us—I will do all in my power to convince General Stonemantle that your sister would benefit from another human’s presence. But the peace agreement is still in its infancy and the general has many, many responsibilities and must act in a way his peers and his emperor will not object. And it doesn’t help that the general is also your father. No responsible father would let you go without very good reason, and it would start a war if I just spirited you away.” His mental thoughts trailed off, but his magic still touched her mind—a lingering caress. It allowed her the chance to feel his deep sorrow at the thought of leaving her. “I can’t keep you, little one. Even if I want to.”

  She chuckled. “I’m not a pet, you know.”

  Her muscles unclenched and she smiled as she reached out to rub his nose. He lipped at her fingers. Almost of their own accord, her arms encircled his neck and she bowed her forehead against him. “I know this sounds foolish, but no one has ever understood me until you.”

  A long pause answered her words. Heat mounted her face in a burning wave. Oh, blessed Creator, she’d just said the wrong damn thing again. Like she was prone to with the santhyrian—there was just something about him that made her drop all her defenses and expose her soul. Embarrassing. Yet in her defense, having Shadowdancer as a friend was a little like being able to talk to a beloved animal companion, but one with the double-edged gift of having intelligence and wit equal to a human’s. Sorsha admitted when she closed her eyes and let her mind drift she sometimes forgot Shadowdancer was neither horse nor human and let private thoughts slip. Like now.

  Just when she was scouring her brain for something to add to her last comment to make it sound less like it had come from a love-struck fool, he answered her.

  “Honestly, it never entered my thoughts I would one day befriend a human—your kind fears magic and distrusts the elder races to such an extent, it just didn’t seem likely. But then fate laughed at me and tossed you under my hooves, so to speak.”

  “You terrified me.” Sorsha laughed at the memory, now safely behind her. She’d been riding through the familiar forest on her way to visit her friend, Beatrice. The peasant girl lived with her brother and grandmother—an old, wise woman known only as Old Mother—who avoided civilization as much as possible. On that particular day, Sorsha had been bringing supplies to the three when she’d heard the thunder of hooves closing in on her location. When a big, black shadow had burst onto the path directly beside them, her mare had reared, dumping Sorsha in an undignified heap at Shadowdancer’s hooves. By some miracle, Shadowdancer had managed to avoid stepping on her. “I still haven’t forgiven Shadegrove for throwing me.”

  “I thank your skittish mare daily.” Shadowdancer’s thoughts brushed hers, his humor washing over her in a warm wave. “Though I have to say, your first words to me would have made even a veteran stallion strut—all your talk of my wonderful proportions and my lovely form.”

  “Horses find my voice soothing,” Sorsha said in a rush. “Besides, I was talking nonsense and desperately hoping you wouldn’t trample me.”

  “Ah. Here I thought you were talking about my superior endowments. How disappointing.”

  “You’re horrible.” Sorsha tried to look stern. She managed it for the length of three heartbeats before she started to chuckle. She couldn’t help it. His dry humor combined with his long-faced look of absolute dejection struck her as enormously funny.

  “All humor aside, little one,” Shadowdancer whispered into her mind, “since the first day I met you, I’ve felt a connection of deepest friendship—kindred souls, my people would call us. There is a saying among my kind, a phrase to convey deep friendship. ‘Through all the days of my life, I would have you walk with me.’”

  “Shadowdancer,” she paused, her eyes brimming with tears again, but not ones of sadness. “That’s very beautiful—thank you. I would like to walk with you, too.”

  Shadowdancer bobbed his head, his ears swiveling forward. She hadn’t noticed he’d been uncertain until then. She ran her fingers through his mane and smiled, truly happy.

  Perhaps she could still escape the prison of society and be free.

  * * * *

  Shadowdancer followed behind the little human, half-dazed by the intoxicating scent of her Larnkin’s power. What had been a guess upon first meeting had resolved into certainty as the days passed and he’d become more acquainted with Sorsha’s power. She would grow into a powerful Herd Mistress. Her magic was already stirring, gathering strength. Soon her Larnkin would wake fully. When it happened, she should be safe among a sizeable herd so her Larnkin could choose a compatible Stallion Mage to compliment her power. And yet here they were in the human settlement of River’s Divide, surrounded by much hostility, with only three santhyrians and one phoenix to protect the young Herd Mistress.

  Guilt gnawed at him. By rights he should see to the welfare of the new Herd Mistress first, but he was oath-bound to the Elemental Council, sworn to guard and protect the young phoenix prince. Duty pulled him in two different directions.

  He pawed at dew-dampened grass. Mud and greenery splattered with each strike. One small, selfish part of his soul rejoiced he was one of only two eligible Mages present. And another part was disappointed. He would have appreciated the chance to prove himself against his peers, to have Sorsha choose him because he was the obvious choice, not because he was the best of meager pickings. At least Sorsha had come to favor him over Summer Flame before her magic awoke and muddied the issue.

  Friendship, they’d talked of earlier—he’d known her for less than a moon’s cycle and he already wanted something deeper, more profound. If he was the Stallion Mage the new Mistress linked with, then they would have a chance at that. Winning her over shouldn’t be hard, he hoped. But there was no guarantee of forming the sacred bond; she was a human and one of her kind had not produced a powerful Herd Mistress in a very, very long time. With a snort of anger at his own whimsy, he admitted dreaming about becoming Sorsha’s bondmate might just be that—a wishful dream.

  “What has you thinking so hard?” Sorsha asked, humor curving her lips into a gentle smile. “I can practically see the thoughts flashing in your eyes.”

  “Debating what your next magical lesson should be.” The lie slid from him in a way he hoped was convincing. “You’re an able pupil, and I struggle to think up new things to keep you occupied.” At least, Shadowdancer mused privately, ones which won’t give away that there is more between us than I’m letting on.

  He hadn’t told her the truth, and the omission didn’t sit well with his sense of honesty. But she was too forthright, near foolish in her bravery. As soon as she learned about the potential of her power, she would try to force her Larnkin to form the link early so she could leave this place when he did.

  Damn treaties and politics. And most of all, damn those hateful, magic-fearing human priests. Without their prejudice fueling the populous, the rest of humanity might come to accept that magic wasn’t evil, and allow those few human bloodlines possessing magic to live openly and peacefully without the fear of being hunted down.

  His tail snapped against his flanks and he tossed his head, his ears pinned flat. There were so many obstacles when dealing with humans. How did Prince Sorntar cope, having a human bondmate?

  Shadowdancer shivered with revulsion at the thought of sitting through the candlemarks’ worth of meetings Prince Sorntar was compelled to suffer through for the sake of the peace treaty.

  “Easy.” Sorsha’s voice slid across his emotional turmoil, soothing him with one, short word. Then her fingers found the sensitive spot just under the ridge of his mane and started to scratch. His mind blanked at the wonderful pressure. Her other hand came up to rub the skin below his forelock. “What has you on edge? Teaching me to learn magic? We’re far from the settlement and it should be s
afe enough. There’s no more danger than usual.”

  “I’m just restless tonight.”

  “Oh.” The one-word answer sounded like she’d come to a realization.

  What had she discovered? Surely nothing of what he was truly thinking. He was certain he’d hidden his thoughts from her well enough. Though… she was a fast learner.

  “There are no female santhyrians here besides your sister. You must be getting…” she floundered for a polite word, “…frustrated.”

  Now that wasn’t what he’d thought would exit her mouth, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise, not really. For a human, she had a way of cutting to the truth and putting things simply.

  He admitted she was right again. The Council had him running around from one crisis to the next with barely a break, and it had been over a season since he’d last spent much time among the herds of his people. Hmm, he could attribute some of his edginess to the restrictions that duty placed on him.

  Eying Sorsha, engulfed in the heady scent of an awakening Herd Mistress’ power, it occurred to him there might be another reason for his restlessness. Her Larnkin’s power had a beguiling scent; rich, warm, and dark—with the faintest tang of sweet meadow grasses. When he closed his eyes, he could visualize what she might look like had she been born one of his people, free to gallop across the plains of his homeland, her pale skin and dark hair transformed into a glossy buckskin coat and a black mane. An elegantly arched neck. The flash of her hooves at full gallop. Ah, yes. She’d make a beauty he’d gladly pursue.

  “I’ve insulted you.”

  As Sorsha’s words penetrated his daydream, his skin shivered as if a cool rain splashed across his body. He sighed at his thoughts—they were pointless. Herd Mistresses were rare, and ones with the ability to shapeshift were rarer still. He shook off the webbings of his daydream and directed his next thought at Sorsha. “No insult taken. I appreciate candor.”

  “Then we were fated to be together.” Her laugh reached all the way to his soul.

  Oh yes, he hoped so. His power stirred, close to the surface. Perhaps there was another option, one he hadn’t considered.

  Magic coiled tighter within him, responding to his thoughts. He suddenly wanted a short time alone to try something he’d never had reason to attempt. Nothing and no one had ever tempted him to try his hand at shapeshifting, not until he’d met this small human standing before him. While shapeshifting was a rare trait in Herd Mistresses, it wasn’t half so rare for a Stallion Mage to possess the talent required. And he was older, deeper into his magic—his Larnkin stronger than many of his peers.

  Sorsha poked him. “Show me how to summon one of those fire globe lights. I know I can get it right.”

  Distracted, his mind flailed a moment. “Oh, a mage globe…yes, I’ll show you.” But the whole time he showed Sorsha a few simple magic wards and spells, he was thinking of performing some higher magic himself, once he was alone.

  * * * *

  From the shelter of the night-shrouded forest, Lord-Master Trensler watched the girl and the horse-like ambassador as they rode closer. Even over the distance, he scented their power, sweet like the fragrance of sun-warmed grass carried on a strong, prairie breeze. Oh, they were so close. It would be so easy to drain their magic and feed it to his master. With an unblinking stare, he followed the progress of the girl and her companion, studying his prey.

  So this was why his master commanded him and a handful of acolytes to leave the damaged ship and continue on to River’s Divide on horseback, leaving the ship to make its slow, limping way to harbor in the morning.

  A soft whisper of dark power, a twisted, hungry presence in his soul, distracted him from the two riding so close.

  “Not yet,” the dark power commanded.

  “Master?” Trensler asked, surprised by this new development. He’d thought he’d been sent here to capture the general’s daughter and her companion this night.

  “Soon.” His master promised in its silent, soundless manner. “The stallion’s power will reach its peak by the next full moon. Harvest his Larnkin then. With their strength made yours, you shall be able to take the stallion’s more-powerful companions. Take them as close together as you can. Don’t give them time to react.”

  “As you command.”

  From the corner of his eye, Trensler caught the glimmer of blonde curls only half hidden under the shadow of a deep cowl as one of his accompanying priests stepped up beside him. Acolyte Keldar, the most promising of the young ones, pushed back his hood and cocked his head in the santhyrian’s direction. “Shall we take them now, your grace?”

  “No, not yet. The presence of the female augments the stallion’s magic, and it will be a richer harvest at the height of the full moons, three days from now. They will make a far, far better sacrifice then. Tonight, we merely follow them. The Divine Speaker doesn’t want their companions to be aware of us until we are ready to move against them all.”

  Keldar drew his hood back up and bowed his head, his hands clasped in front of him. A heavy band of black metal, normally hidden by the long sleeves of his robe, stood out stark against his pale wrist. “As the Speaker commands.”

  Suppressed hunger swirled awake a second time as the stallion and his rider galloped past. They were so close, Trensler could smell the perfumed soap the girl used on her hair, and overpowering that clean fragrance was the rich, grassland magic of the horse people.

  Unable to resist a small taste, Trensler shook his sleeve back and reached out toward the stallion, exposing his own bracelet of dark metal with its polished blood stone. Under the pale light of the moon, Trensler watched as darkness intensified around the stone. The metal warmed, a pleasant heat against his chilled, age-spotted skin. After the stallion was out of range, the bracelet began to cool. He raised it up to eye level and then stroked his tongue across the still-cooling stone, testing the residual trace of magic left by the ambassador’s passing. Ah, these two were just as powerful as he’d hoped.

  Pleased with what he learned, he slowly trailed the two Larnkin hosts. His acolytes followed in his wake, as silent as disembodied spirits.

  After several candlemarks, the girl and her stallion companion headed back to River’s Divide. He followed them toward home.

  Oh, such strength these two had. They would make a great and glorious sacrifice for his master.

  Chapter Two

  After Shadowdancer had deposited Sorsha at the base of her window and watched her climb safely within, he returned to the place where they had practiced magic earlier. The meadow still held her lingering scent mixed with the fresh, cool fragrance of night. His nostrils flared as he inhaled a deep breath before coming to the meadow’s center.

  His magic stirred within him, stronger than it had earlier and he thought his Larnkin approved of his plan. Being near the young Herd Mistress this last moon cycle had triggered the final stage of his Larnkin’s awakening—a few more days and he’d come into his full power. He probably should wait, but the chance proved too tempting. Crown Prince Sorntar would return home soon, and Shadowdancer didn’t want to miss his last chance to impress Sorsha. Once he’d thought of it, his pride wouldn’t let him go home without showing Sorsha his new power. And he rather hoped she’d find his new form appealing.

  Now he scolded himself; it was time to focus and find his new form. Folding his legs, he settled on the ground. It was safer, all things considered. Less distance to fall if he passed out or did something else stupid.

  The power of the Larnkin swelled within at his mental call. He held the image of his new form in his mind and pushed it—and an accompanying heartfelt desire to shapeshift—at his Larnkin. Three heartbeats later, the power within began growing into an intense warmth. Swifter than a thought, it expanded throughout his body. His breath punched out of him like he’d lost his footing and slid broadside into a tree. He wheezed in shock. Warmth changed from a pleasant tingling to a searing wave of pain as every nerve ending flared to life. A brig
ht glow blinded him and the sensations coming from his body vanished. For several moments of absolute terror, he was left floating in nothingness. No one had ever told him shapeshifting would feel like this. Was this normal?

  A great pressure descended on him and with it, feeling returned. Heaviness embraced each of his numb limbs and before he could react, the ground rose up to meet him and he slammed face-first into the damp earth. A grunt of pain escaped him. For once he wasn’t concerned by the show of weakness.

  Maybe he’d just lay here for a little while. At least he lived, he reasoned. Death couldn’t possibly hurt so much.

  * * * *

  A pale light from Sorsha’s window illuminated the garden shrubs to either side of Shadowdancer. Even with the thick greenery, he still felt exposed. With his bare skin devoid of any kind of coat, the late spring breeze—which should have been warm—felt more like the kiss of winter. He shivered, already missing his thick coat. The thickest hair this new body could boast was a thatch on his head, a scattering across his chest and a meager patch at his groin. He didn’t even have a tail. And this form’s male parts seemed… lacking in size. He pursed his lips. Perhaps it was the cold? He could only hope.

  Once the initial shock of shapeshifting and learning how his new body moved had worn off, a heavy uncertainty had taken root like a weight in his stomach. His Larnkin was still, no longer churning with power. He must have exhausted it by forcing it to summon more power than it was ready for. Perhaps he should have asked for Sorsha’s assistance. She wouldn’t have tried to sway him from his plan or made light of his wishes. But he’d wanted to impress her, so had embarked upon this foolery without her. He hadn’t acted so rash since he was a colt. He flexed his jaw with the need to snap his teeth at something in his annoyance.

  Now a mute, magicless stranger—a naked stranger—wandered the grounds. What if a guard saw him? Best not to even think about that possibility. With his luck tonight, his stray thought might draw the guard right to him. He only hoped Sorsha would still hear his thoughts and inform the Crown Prince of his plight.