“It’s not only pride.” I jerked away from him, pulling the hair pin from its sleeve and winding up my hair before I reached for the door latch. Marskal had his hand on it, holding the door closed.
“Zynda,” he said, close behind me. He pressed a kiss to my temple. “You’re not alone in this. Talk to me. Let me help you. Or someone in Annfwn. Could someone there, a teacher or some such, help you recover your abilities?”
I wanted to drop my head against the door and weep. I wanted to turn and lean against him, let him enfold me in his arms and wipe the thoughts from my mind. I really wanted to fly, up into the sky and let all this nonsense bleed away. But that escape was barred from me, perhaps forever. Why hadn’t Moranu warned me that I’d have to sacrifice that, too? Or perhaps she had.
Zyr could maybe help me, but I’d have to admit to my inability. He would gloat, too. I’d always been the better shapeshifter and in our various fights growing up, I had used that relentlessly to goad him. I supposed I’d deserve whatever scorn he wanted to return in kind.
“I don’t need your help to go to my homeland,” I replied, hating this feeling of weakness.
“But I’m offering my help,” he said. “That’s what loving someone means.”
“Your love can’t help me,” I said, angry for no good reason. Maybe the meanness in my voice would get through to him. “A mossback couldn’t possibly understand.”
This time, when I reached for the latch, he didn’t try to stop me.
~ 16 ~
The Hákyrling made good time, passing the stone dragon guardians at full sail. Carved of the same black stone as the rocky prominences that protected the harbor, the immense sculptures seemed to rise out of the island, snarling and spreading wings to spring into the sky. They looked very much like Kiraka, only rendered in lovingly polished obsidian. Perhaps once there’d been a whole colony of those like her, shapeshifters who’d taken the final dragon form.
If so, that meant that choosing Final Form didn’t necessarily mean the kind of extreme isolation Kiraka suffered. Perhaps she’d be less mean, and—let’s face it, more sane—if she’d at least had companionship. I had no intention of reneging on my vow to take Final Form—if I ever managed to shapeshift again—but more than ever the prospect of the endless years ahead chilled me. Moranu take Marskal for his ill-advised love and making me think about having more. Bedding him had been a bad idea, which I’d known all along. I’d regret it, if it hadn’t been so fantastic.
“Well, you look well-fucked,” Jepp said, leaning hipshot against the rail next to me. “And I note the lieutenant bears a number of scratches and love bites. Did you at least leave the critical bits attached?”
Oh, to leap overboard and become a dolphin on the way down. Maybe I’d leap anyway. “They’re his bits to look after,” I replied.
“Ho-kay,” she drawled, turning to look at the rapidly approaching harbor also. “Most people, you know, are happier for a long night of excellent sex. Apparently with the Tala, not so much.”
“It’s only sex.” I shrugged, then caught myself, remembering how Marskal commented that it meant I lied. Not that I was, but…ugh. Him with his mossback attachment to one truth. “You know how it is. A bit of fun to pass the time, blow off steam. Then back to the business at hand. Ursula will want to convene a council.”
“We sent a crow ahead to warn them, so we can discuss and hopefully turn around quickly. And I know how it is, sure—but you’ve never been like that and the lieutenant certainly isn’t.”
“Regardless, it’s none of your business.” I seemed to be saying that a lot lately.
Jepp pulled one of her daggers, idly spinning it between her fingers, totally unconcerned that she might drop it in the ocean. I’d never seen her drop a blade. “See, there I think you’re wrong,” she said in a cheerful tone. “At least now I know which of you to warn about breaking the other’s heart.” She pointed her suddenly still dagger at me. “Be careful with his.”
“I didn’t ask him to fall in love with me,” I replied, my irritation rising to a keen edge again.
Jepp’s head whipped around. “He said that?”
I waved that off. “For now he thinks so. A fancy of the moment. It won’t last.”
Jepp snorted. “And here I always thought you were smart. You know, not book smart like Dafne, but… wise, or something.” She gripped my elbow, making me look at her. “Since you don’t see it, I’ll tell you. Marskal is not a passing fancy kind of man.”
I shook her off. “Nevertheless, I don’t want it. Not his love or his heart. He can have it back.”
She studied me. “You’re not this cold. What’s this about?”
“About? We’re at war, Jepp. My people are dying by slow inches, facing ultimate extinction while Annfwn deteriorates. The temple of Deyrr wants to suck all the life from the world, and I’m to worry about one man’s fascination with a woman he can’t have? Let’s keep things in perspective here.”
“I don’t know—you look pretty well had to me.”
I returned her jest with a stern glare. “I mean long term, and you know it. Even if I didn’t have responsibilities to my people, I’m not the woman for him.” I hadn’t told her about Final Form. The footloose and mercurial Jepp would likely react to that idea with horror, and I couldn’t face that from yet another person. “Shapeshifters don’t mate with mossbacks, for more reasons than that the Tala need babies.”
She pursed her lips, then turned again to watch the harbor. A Nahanaun guard had lined up to greet us, and the ship had slowed, sailors crawling to furl the sails. “I saw some bad stuff in the Imperial Palace at Dasnaria.”
“I know. I’m sorry for that, but—”
“Hear me out,” she said in a mild tone that carried a razor edge. “I don’t often wax philosophical, so you can do me the courtesy of paying attention.”
I nearly laughed, but she looked completely serious, so I only nodded.
“I’ve never gotten to tell you all of it and I wouldn’t, even if we had the time. Some things are too terrible to revisit, you know?” She turned her head to look at me, her dark eyes reflecting some of that horror. Maybe I didn’t know. She lifted a shoulder, rolling off those memories, staring into the distance again. “I’ve never claimed to be wise, despite Danu’s many lessons to ease me in that direction.” She snorted at her herself. “But I’ll tell you what, when the worst happened, when I felt so soiled that it was like a slime I couldn’t wash off my skin, it was Kral who made me feel clean again.”
“That’s really lovely. I’m happy for you.”
“I’m not done. Now Kral—he’s no prince. I mean, he is literally a prince, or was, but he’s an arrogant ass most of the time. He’s stubborn and pigheaded and has a slew of messed up ideas about women. Still, loving him might be all that saved me. All that kept me from becoming someone who couldn’t be retrieved.”
She was quiet long enough that I thought I could be allowed to speak, although now I had nothing to say. I searched for some words that would sound right. “I’m glad he loves you. You deserve that, and it’s good to see you happy.”
Jepp glanced at me, impatient, eyes snapping with irritation. “You’re not listening. It wasn’t him loving me that made the difference. That’s nice, sure, but—as you just said—not really a game-changer. It’s me loving him that made the difference, that changed me, that allowed me to survive with my humanity intact.”
That took me aback. Especially since she seemed to expect some sort of answer. “But I don’t love Marskal,” I told her.
She grimaced, shaking her head fatalistically. “Well, that, my Tala friend, might be a grave mistake.”
Ursula had indeed convened a council, and Dafne had assembled her scrolls and maps, neatly stacked in front of her. We sat down immediately, Ursula asking Marskal to give the report, which he did, referring to Jepp and Kral to supplement details. He didn’t solicit my input, nor did he mention my … disabled state. No doubt he’d
relate that to her in private, along with whatever other observations he’d gleaned while being my guard.
I tried not to let it bother me. Only pride, nothing more than that. But I felt surprisingly lonely. Both Jepp and Marskal were angry with me. I shouldn’t care, but some part of me did. This must be how Kiraka felt, following her intuition to do the right thing for the greater good, and losing friendships, her only companionship because of it. Perhaps this meant I’d taken several more steps to becoming a dragon, myself. Maybe hardening the heart came before all the permanent external scaling.
Of course, I wouldn’t be able to reach that final stage and save my people if I couldn’t shift again. I needed to try. Though the prospect made my stomach twist, I made myself consider it, think through the steps. In that, at least, Marskal was right. Not thinking about it wasn’t making it any better. Even if I died trying, it would be no different than if I’d died a week ago, looking from the larger perspective. Better, because now we had more information.
“Zynda, what’s your opinion?” Ursula regarded me with that steady hawkish gaze that made it clear she knew perfectly well I hadn’t been listening. I wasn’t going to apologize or pretend.
“About what?” I made myself remain apparently languid, not bracing myself for questions about my abilities or my intentions.
They all looked somewhat exasperated with me, except for Marskal, who studied me with something like concern. I might believe that if I didn’t know how we’d left things.
Kral stepped in. “Is it best if we take the Hákyrling back to monitor the barrier, fighting back any more incursions while you go to Annfwn? Or is there a way to search out the sleeper spies already inside? And is there a way to fight these things without your magic?”
I wanted to ask why I was going to Annfwn, then I caught Marskal’s quiet look, and my mind caught up. He’d told them that’s where I wanted to go. “Queen Andromeda, once warned, can likely strengthen the barrier, maybe even particularly where it crosses that peninsula. Until then I think we can only be alert to their presence—they’ll look like normal animals to you—then chop into small pieces or incinerate.” I shifted in my seat, the word alone bringing back phantom pain.
“I could go with them to the barrier,” I said to Ursula. Maybe I could regain my shifting ability without having to face Zyr and take that blow to my pride. “I’d be useful there. My magic served to vanish the fish-bird flock.”
Kral leaned on the table, intrigued. “Could you do that on a larger scale—or at a distance? Scour the peninsula, for example?”
I had to shake my head. “I couldn’t affect anything outside the barrier, and I need a specific target. Like I needed to see and touch one of the fish-birds, first.” It went against my grain to disclose such specifics about how my magic worked, and I really hated confessing those limitations.
“That wouldn’t be good enough,” Ursula confirmed, unnecessarily. “Any other advice on the barrier?”
I shrugged, irritated with her dismissal, disappointed with myself. “Stop crossing. The Star may be creating a kind of magic that they’re exploiting. There might be more than one reason they’re focusing on that region.”
Jepp and Ursula exchanged looks. “It will mean suspending efforts to help people get on the right side of the barrier,” Jepp said. “And we have people on the wrong side.”
Ursula nodded, resigned. “I know you speak of Dafne’s man, Akamai. He knew the dangers when he agreed to go to Dasnaria. Communicating with him and restoring any others to their homes will have to wait for peace time. Right now we must plan for defense, against an enemy we can’t see.”
“Or attack,” Kral put in, and—to my surprise—Harlan and Marskal nodded in crisp agreement. Kral laughed, sweeping a hand around the table. “This is the problem with putting women in charge. You instinctively think first about protecting the home and the babies. This is not a bad thing. It’s in your nature. But every man knows the best way to defend his territory is to eliminate his enemies before they arrive.”
“Remember the woman who sleeps in your bed?” Jepp said in a sweet voice, a brilliant smile on her face. “Think of her when you wake up dead tomorrow morning.”
“Going to use those gnat stickers of yours?” Kral grinned at her. “I don’t think so. Besides, you can’t argue this. It’s basic biology.”
Jepp lost her smile and flashed a look at me. “I take it all back. Run while you still can.”
Marskal’s brows drew together and he gave me a glance I couldn’t interpret.
Nakoa said something sharp and apparently Ursula needed no translation. She nodded at him. “I agree. Let’s focus. As much as I never thought I’d say this, the Dasnarian general is correct about strategy, if not biology. And I’ll accept that it’s a personal blind spot of mine that I think in terms of defense first. We can’t afford to wait for them to come to us—or rather to spring whatever trap they’re laying for us. We will have already lost at that point.”
Kral hooted his glee and Jepp rolled her eyes, muttering something. Ursula ignored them both. “Kral—if Deyrr is planning an attack, as they almost certainly are, will your brother the emperor support that? Are we looking at war with the entire Dasnarian Empire?”
All amusement and rancor fled from the table as Kral nodded, completely matter of fact. “Yes. Hestar would not pass up such an opportunity. And he has the arrogance to believe he can control the temple. Wouldn’t you agree, brother?”
Harlan, not exactly surprised, regarded Kral a moment, then added his nod with a rueful twist of his mouth. “There can be no doubt.”
“And I saw them,” Jepp added. “A secret meeting between Hestar, the High Priestess, and Kir in the Imperial Palace. They were… indulging themselves.” She swallowed hard, and Kral set a hand on the back of her neck, squeezing so she straightened with more spirit. For the first time I saw the decent man she’d insisted lurked inside his abrasive exterior. “They’ve been planning this for a long time, the emperor and Deyrr, and Kir is aiding them with inside information.”
Ursula spread her hands on the table, regarding them as if she wished she could hold all of her realm in them, safe from attack. “My late, unlamented father would have been good at this. He was a terrible king, but an undeniably brilliant general.” She looked to Harlan. “We could take our Tala ship and be the ones to monitor the incursion, while the others go to Annfwn. I’d love to be the first to greet Hestar, with the point of my sword.”
“You can’t be on the front lines of this war,” Dafne said in a decisive tone. “We’ve had this argument before. You’re the High Queen now, not an itinerant warrior. Your place is at Ordnung, ruling, creating and implementing the strategy.”
“Like my father, you mean? The man built his castle next to the Wildlands, as close as he could to the foot of Odfell’s Pass, because he regarded Annfwn as his enemy. He literally made his home on the front lines of his personal war. Why would I do otherwise?”
“Because you’re not him.” Harlan returned her glare with equanimity.
“That has nothing to do with—”
“And you already abdicated your role at the barrier by handing the Star over to Jepp,” he continued.
“I’ll happily give it back!” Jepp put her hand on her chest. “Somebody please take it.”
Ursula and Harlan were still engaged in some silent conversation. Finally, she sighed, and threw up her hands. “One thing is sure, I am not my father.”
“To return to the point, he did have Tala assistance,” Dafne put in, and they all looked at me.
“Uorsin had Salena, yes,” I said, feeling as if I stated the obvious. “You have all of the Tala, including our king and queen.”
“Do we?” Ursula asked the question somberly, with insistence. I gazed back at my cousin, uncertain what she truly asked of me.
“Your fate is ours.” I indicated Dafne’s map of concentric circles. “We may be at the center, rather than the front lines, but we no
longer have the safety we once enjoyed. It makes little difference if we save our future generations, only to give over their very souls to Deyrr to consume. I have my commitment to my role, but I feel safe in speaking for King Rayfe and Queen Andromeda in this.”
She nodded at me, as if I’d just made her a promise. “Good. Thank you for that.” She turned that uncomfortable attention away from me. “Kral, you were general of the Dasnarian forces,” Ursula replied, “and I’ve been told your men are among the best. Was that job a sinecure or are you that good?”
Kral colored, his jaw tight. “I was given the appointment to keep me out of my brother’s way, it’s true—”
“He’s that good,” Harlan broke in. “A better strategist and leader of men I’ve never known.”
Kral seemed truly taken aback, then shook his head slightly, as if clearing it. Jepp patted his arm and he covered her hand with his.
Ursula simply registered that, moving on. “Good, then I appoint you general of our forces for the duration of this war. Start planning our offense.”
“You’re so certain of my loyalty?” Kral protested. “It goes against my grain to question a gift of such power, but—”
“Shut up, Kral,” Jepp said pleasantly. “We’re sure of you, even if you’re not.”
“If only because he hates Hestar as much as anyone,” Harlan commented.
“I know full well that the enemy of my enemy is not necessarily my friend,” Ursula said, her gaze wandering back to me, “but in this, at least, I have no concerns.”
I did my best to return her assessing gaze evenly, but my stomach twisted at the thought of what her doubts must be.
“Then we’re decided,” she said. “Jepp and Kral will take Hákyrling back to the barrier. Stay mobile. Dafne, you remain here with King Nakoa, implementing your spy plan to monitor the Deyrr incursion. Talk to Kiraka—don’t start with me, we need her intelligence—find out if she knows of a way to identify these sleeper spies. They’re shapeshifters and they’re Deyrr. She might know. King Nakoa KauPo—you and your people remain our front line of resistance. I’d like to ask for extra ships and fighters to provide back-up to the Hákyrling until we get sufficient forces in place. Until then, anything you need, we’ll find a way to supply. Same goes for you, Kral.”
The Shift of the Tide Page 19