Huntress

by Susan Copperfield

  It took me a moment to realize she used a cloak as a blanket. Where the hell had she gotten a cloak?

  Within minutes, she slept on the cold, damp stones, and her snores drowned out even the waterfall. I’d have to do something about that snore if I took her home with me or she’d keep the entire castle awake all night.

  It would be a challenge, and I couldn’t resist a challenge.

  Under the cover of her thunderous snores, I limped out of my hiding place and headed downstream to rendezvous with my clothes and wait for the first day of summer.

  Well aware I’d be hunted if I wasn’t careful, I ignored my hunger, crammed into the hollowed trunk of the tree I’d stashed my plastic-wrapped clothes within, and waited for the dawning of summer. As was often the case, I transformed while I slept, and the tree made a tight, uncomfortable hiding place. To my relief, I had enough room to check myself over, grimacing at the sluggishly bleeding gash across my side. Worse, an orange stain surrounded the wound, a promise of trouble in my near future. Until I figured out what the stain meant—or it went away on its own—I couldn’t afford to waste much time thinking about it.

  I had bigger things to worry about, including returning to my home and my inevitable demise courtesy of my parents. Grégoire could continue the family name probably better than I could.

  Whining about it wouldn’t do me any good. My sisters might indulge me if I moped enough, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath. I’d pass out long before they took mercy on me.

  I clacked my teeth together and got dressed, grimacing at the stiffness deep in my bones and the twinge of my bruises, which would hurt more later. They always did. Fortunately, most of the splotches were hidden beneath my clothes, but I wouldn’t dodge the royal physicians for long.

  A sneeze tore through me, a painful reminder my immune system would retire for a few weeks as it always did after so long trapped in a turkey’s body. While tempted to dodge the castle until the bruising faded, I resigned myself to my fate.

  Delaying would do me no good, so I began the long, painful hike to my wallet and phone.

  A thunderstorm rolled in and hammered me with rain, and when the rain didn’t kill me, the sky opened fire and pelted me with hail. I’d welcome a tornado if the damned thing put me out of my misery. The cut across my side throbbed with each step, and spending the entire spring in a tree hadn’t done my clothes or shoes any favors. The first blisters made their presence known within a mile, promising I’d regret every choice I’d made in my life before I reached my phone.

  On the bright side, I could blame the hail for my bruises. By the time I reached the castle, no one would be able to tell what had caused them, and hail could tenderize anybody in a few minutes. Hiding the gash and orange stain on my skin would take more work, and I had no idea what excuse I’d make—if I needed to make an excuse at all.

  Falling on a rock and battering myself bloody wouldn’t work; what sort of rock would turn my skin orange? My family would lock on that like the predators they were, first to catch me in the lie, and second to discover if there were any rocks that could turn someone orange.

  They loved a good mystery almost as much as they loved driving me up the nearest wall.

  No, they’d annoy the truth out of me eventually, so my best defense was to stick to the truth and omit important details. They didn’t need to know a huntress had shot me with an arrow. I could claim it was a dispute with a woman I found attractive.

  My sisters might not buy it, but every last man in the family would. They all pissed off women, especially before they’d broken the curse and gained control over their shapeshifting abilities.

  No matter what, I couldn’t let them know I’d been shot. If they figured it out, I was confident they’d chain me in the castle next spring, ending a decade of secrecy and destroying what remained of my pride. After they laughed themselves sick, I’d have to rely on my sisters, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother for protection against the rest of my family.

  Heaven help me, I’d discovered the truth about hell. It wasn’t a place after death, but the reality of a worry-wart family of predators discovering their favorite food might be a blood relative.

  The entire hike to my phone, which was punctuated with cracks of thunder, blinding flashes of lightning, wind-whipped rain, and hail with a few moments of respite tossed in, I questioned if I really needed to return home at all. My family had grown accustomed to wondering if I’d turn up each summer. As he did every year, my father would remind me every other Averett man ruled over the castle as a beast while seeking his perfect woman. Grégoire enjoyed his stints as a wolverine, teasing the castle staff whenever he visited. Maybe if I asked nicely, my father would make my cousin the heir.

  Grégoire would enjoy his hunt for his wife, whereas I’d given up the search after Gail had proven what I’d suspected all along.

  It would take a miracle to find someone who could look beyond the title to see the man. I still wasn’t sure how my father had won my mother, but from what I’d pieced together, she hadn’t known he was the heir until it was too late for her to run away. Sometimes she ran to rile him up, but she never meant it.

  She just wanted him to chase her.

  What should’ve been an uneventful albeit painful walk turned into a nightmare the instant the storm front passed. Out went the cold, in came the heat, and with the heat came the humidity, leaving me drenched in sweat before my clothes had a chance to dry. I blamed the family curse. Transforming screwed with my immune system, trashed my ability to cope with temperature fluctuations, and billed me for my general stupidity over the entire spring.

  Annoyed at myself for whining, I took aim at the nearest rock, borrowed a few of the huntress’s curses, and punted the damned thing. It bounced off a nearby trunk with a satisfying thump. My toes paid the price for my temper, and after a few deep breaths, I straightened and resumed my march.

  What should’ve taken me a couple of hours at most took the entire day. My wallet, phone, and solar charger were where I’d left them, hidden within the trunk of a dying tree near a granite outcropping of stone. Unless my phone had miraculously held some of its charge, I’d be stuck waiting for dawn. To my amazement, it turned on, and the battery indicator claimed I had a quarter charge to work with.

  I hadn’t thought enough sun would’ve been able to reach the spot, but I was pleased my precautions had born fruit.

  Of my options, calling my father would stir my family’s ire the most and send someone the fastest. I dialed his personal cell number and faced my impending demise with pride.

  “Well, well, well. It seems I still have a son,” my father answered.

  “Question—” I sneezed so hard I dropped my phone and scrambled to pick it up, checking the display to make sure I hadn’t broken it or hung up. “Sorry. You still have a son. His name’s Alan. Please tell me he’s grown a fur coat.”

  “I regret to inform—”

  Another sneeze tore through me, but I managed to keep my hold on my cell.

  “You caught another cold playing outside, I see.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I could use a lift, as I’ve caught this cold from playing outside.” Why did my father insist on accusing me of playing outside rather than spending three months of my life avoiding predators and keeping persistent hens away?

  Oh, right. I hadn’t told him my species or my destination.

  “All right, kiddo. You’re always incapable of handling anything like a normal adult for a week after you turn up, so tell me where to fetch your lanky ass. While you’re at it, please tell me a cold is the only thing wrong with you this time.”

  “But you taught me I shouldn’t lie.”

  “Kel!”

  Lying through omission might save me—maybe. “I pissed a woman off. She won the dispute.”

  “You’re supposed to be convincing a woman to love you, not pissing her off.”

  “I was trying a new strategy,” I lied. Well, it wasn’t really a li
e, was it? I’d never beaten a woman with my wings before attempting to get her attention.

  “If you want a beating, ask for one. We’d have to draw a lottery to see who got a chance at you first and then form a line.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Where are you?”

  “My phone is on and has a quarter charge. Make the RPS figure it out.”

  “You have no idea where you’re at, do you?”

  I snorted. “I have a vague idea of my current location.”

  “Well, that woman couldn’t have beaten you too badly. Your awful sense of humor is still intact.”

  “Give me a sec.” I used my phone’s display for light and checked my side, which didn’t look any better since I’d shifted back to human. “A little cut, a lot bruised, and I’m suffering from a severely damaged ego to go with the plague.”

  My father sighed. “Do you need stitches?”

  “I’m unqualified to accurately answer that question.”

  “Kelvin.”

  “I’m not bleeding to death, Dad. It’s a cut, not a severed limb.”

  “Never can tell with you. Sometimes, I think you’re a grizzly just like my grandpa, so you lumber off to prevent the fights.”

  Me? A grizzly? I laughed so hard I hiccupped. “You’re being absurd.”

  “I’m in a good mood. You mother’s off to some movie premier with the rest of the pack, which means I get to go with the RPS without anyone annoying me about it. Christian’s already got a lock on your location, and they’re picking an SUV for some off-roading to get to you. I think they’re looking for a waveweaver and earthweaver to go with us so we don’t get stuck.”

  “It’s a bit muddy,” I admitted.

  “Of course. You’re ten miles deep in a park!” my father bellowed.

  “Huh. I’m impressed I have reception.”

  “Your phone’s in satellite mode, Kelvin.”

  “Oh.” I winced, as I’d been beaten over the head for years to keep the damned phone with me so I could be tracked. “Right. I forgot.”

  “It’ll be better in a few days. Try not to catch your death out there, all right? We can get to you in about two hours.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “Good. Don’t wander.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And Kelvin?”

  “What?”

  “If you run into another woman, don’t piss her off.”

  My father hung up on me, and I rubbed my ear, already regretting my decision to call home.

  Chapter Two

  An entire spring living as prey contributed to my wariness and unwillingness to stay on the ground. I climbed the nearest suitable tree to wait. To kill the time, I used my phone to research the news, beginning with Montana. When something big happened in Montana, everyone talked about it, and I’d learned the hard way people expected me to know what was going on despite the three-month ‘vacation’ I took every year.

  Until I could control my talent, I didn’t view myself as a true contender for the throne despite being the heir.

  It made finding a woman my parents believed suitable difficult at best.

  My mother had her heart set on Gail despite everything, and my father went with what my mother wanted rather than listening to my repeated refusals to revive my relationship with my ex. I expected the growing rift between my mother and I would become a serious issue soon, another problem I didn’t want or need.

  Within twenty minutes, I came to the conclusion all was quiet in Montana, a miracle all things considered. A few news outlets speculated Her Royal Majesty was pregnant again, something that didn’t surprise me at all. She’d had a reputation for being the motherly type from the day she’d showed up in the Texan congress with her firstborn on her hip. His Royal Majesty seemed like the type happiest with babies underfoot.

  Anyone who was taken by surprised by the pair breeding like rabbits needed their head examined and a hefty dose of common sense administered. Then again, I came from a family prone to breeding like rabbits, too.

  I blamed the curse. I refused to admit I enjoyed having babies around; they brought cheerful mayhem wherever they went. I’d probably find them less appealing when I was the father losing sleep, although I had my doubts. I’d lost plenty of sleep during my life helping my parents with my younger siblings, and I hadn’t minded it at all.

  Under no circumstances could I let my parents know I’d lost count of the number of sisters I’d helped raise, the youngest of whom was a precocious five and spent a terrifying amount of time with my nieces.

  I had at least five nieces and a nephew between my four older sisters, the ones I believed would’ve been wolves if the curse had landed on them.

  Another realization dawned on me, one that changed nothing while changing everything: Gail wasn’t the motherly type, not like Her Royal Majesty of Montana was. She’d always been the kind to focus on herself first, backpedal when she realized she sounded selfish, and pretend to be the family type. With that in mind, she’d done me a favor when she’d chosen to sleep with another man while dating me.

  I could work with that. It’d also help me with my search, too.

  I wanted someone who wanted to be a mother as much as I wanted to be a father.

  Was the huntress the kind to like children? I worried for my sanity if she were. She’d never meet society’s standards for beauty, but that wasn’t a disadvantage to me. A pretty face wasn’t required to rule a kingdom. A steadfast heart, courage, and a certain amount of pride certainly were, and from the little I’d seen, she’d had those traits in plentiful supply.

  The real problem would be finding her. With that southern twang in her voice, I pegged her as a visitor to the kingdom—or the daughter of someone from the south. While I could recruit the RPS to help, I rejected the idea.

  When I found her, it’d be because of my efforts.

  Another thunderstorm and a couple of hours later, headlights in the darkness announced the arrival of my father and his RPS team. I identified my father in the darkness easily enough; he emerged from the SUV as a lynx. I rolled my eyes and considered throwing my phone at him.

  Screw it. I needed a new one anyway.

  To my satisfaction, my cell cracked into my father’s thick skull before plopping into the mud.

  Christian, the head of my father’s security detail, slid out from behind the wheel, shook his head, and said, “Good evening, Your Highness. I see you’re feeling lively.”

  “I don’t know what my father told you, but I probably only have a cold and I’m not bleeding to death. I have a cut, not a gaping gash or whatever other nightmare scenario he concocted on the way here.”

  “He’d worked his way up to probable dismemberment and was considering decapitation as a viable diagnosis.”

  “Please sedate him.”

  My father prowled closer, growling.

  “He was intending to track you with his nose, Your Highness. Was throwing your phone at him necessary?”

  “Considering I’ll have to deal with new RPS agents tomorrow? Yes, it was necessary.”

  “Very well. Is there a reason you’re in a tree?”

  I pointed at my father. “I didn’t want to be pounced by a lynx.”

  “Fair enough. Do you need help getting down?”

  “No, but I do need the lynx to become human so I’m not pounced. I don’t want to be pounced today, Christian.”

  For the next week or two, I expected my tolerance for being pounced by a bunch of overenthusiastic predators to be minimal at best until I worked the worst of my damned turkey’s instincts out of my system. With luck, my family wouldn’t press me too hard about it.

  It amazed me they hadn’t guessed I was a prey species from my general reactions to them in the early summer.

  “Your Majesty, please shift so we don’t have to fetch His Highness from a tree by force.”

  Not even my mother could get my father to do anything without a fuss, but Christian’s
suggestion got him moving back to the SUV where he belonged. He jumped inside, and a few moments later, he growled, “Get your ass in the car, Kelvin.”

  I considered myself fortunate he hadn’t started calling me Rose yet. It hurt, but I eased out of the tree without crashing to the ground. Christian hovered nearby, shaking his head and clicking his tongue in blatant disapproval.

  “I want to say this isn’t my fault, but it is.”

  “It’s common enough knowledge your family’s talent creates difficult principals at best. You did exactly as you were supposed to. You survived. To be fair to you, the rest of the royal line is spoiled; they stayed comfortable and safe in the castle during their three-month stints each year. They’ve been worried. Your brother has developed a moderately strong lightningweaving talent, and we’re confident he won’t be shapeshifting.”

  “Not waveweaving?” I asked, my brows rising. Most who could wield lightning were a variant of waveweavers who called storms. In classes, they’d been referred to as stormweavers, a nicer name for the hell they could unleash. True lightningweavers were few and far between.

  “Pure lightning,” Christian confirmed. “He’ll be easily ranked as either a high elite or a royal in his own right with his talent. I thought it was wise to warn you: he currently has poor control.” I glared at the RPS agent for his choice of words, and the man held his hands up in surrender. “His words, not mine. Beat your brother later if you want. I think you’ve been injured enough for one week. This mysterious woman of yours gave you quite the beating. Were you aware you’ve got bruises all over your face?”

  “Most of that’s from the hail. That didn’t help.”

  “Of course not. I have convinced His Majesty you should have the choice of how to handle your care. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “No. I’m bruised and have a cold. I’m not dying.” I hesitated. “And the cut isn’t that bad.”

  “Very well. Be prepared for a heavy dose of fatherly affection.”

  “Are you sure I can’t steal you for my detail? Your first task would be to keep my father on his side of the SUV.”