Raven and the Dancing Tiger

by Cutter, Leah

  Never, Peter told Cai again and again. You and me. Always. Blue sky. Flying together.

  Peter would never raise the glass armor again. He'd never take the chance of leaving Cai on the other side. Being separated like that, even for a short while, was more pain than his soul wanted to bear.

  Cai hissed at the prefect as he raised Chris up to his feet. Hissed at Peter when he tried to bring Cai forward.

  Peter hesitated. They needed to fly home, but Cai didn't trust him, didn't want to work with him, not yet, not now.

  "There's a road only a half mile away," the prefect said, putting one of Chris' arms over his shoulder. "A vehicle from the school will be waiting for us." He turned and started walking away, half-carrying, half-dragging Chris.

  After the prefect was out of sight, Cai finally stopped cawing and hissing.

  Blue skies? Peter asked, though the sky was more dark than light.

  Fly away. Far, far, far away, Cai insisted.

  As soon as they could, they would, Peter promised both Cai and himself. Then he turned and walked after the prefect, not trusting that Cai would fly them back to Ravens' Hall if he was in charge.

  * * *

  Peter wasn't really hungry. He hurt everywhere.

  Cai was still unsettled, insisting that they run away.

  Still, Peter went to the cafeteria after getting cleaned up. He knew his face told the story of what happened, that he'd been in a fight. He also hoped that the way he flinched when someone brushed against him told of his ample punishment; the tearing off of his armor had left all his skin aching and sore. When he finished dinner, he was planning on going back to his room and taking off all his clothes.

  Peter took his plate full of stew, potatoes, and garlic bread to a corner, with his back to the wall, watching the doors and the cafeteria. No one tried to catch his eye or come close. Peter wasn't sure if he looked wild still, if Cai was too close to the surface, or if no one wanted to be associated with an obvious troublemaker.

  Jesse came and sat silently next to Peter while he was still trying to eat. "Sorry I weren't there to watch your back," he finally said.

  Peter gave him a sharp nod. Yes, if Jesse had been there, maybe Chris wouldn't have snuck up on him like that, separating him and Cai…. He pushed back on the thoughts as the memory of the separation made Cai agitated again.

  "That bad?" Jesse asked.

  "Yes. No. I don't know," Peter said, unable and unwilling to explain.

  They didn't say anything more. The rest of the students went on with their dinner. Plates clattered on plastic trays, boys erupted in laughter in another corner, chairs screeched and scraped across the hard tile floor. Each noise made Peter jump, disturbed Cai further.

  Peter had finally given up trying to eat and had just picked up his tray when Prefect Aaron came walking in. He saw Peter and looked away.

  Peter sat back down, still holding his tray, waiting.

  The rest of the noises in the room died, and everyone turned to face the prefect where he stood at the front of the room. Even the kitchen grew quiet.

  "I'm sorry to announce that Chris Sycamore has decided to leave Ravens' Hall and return home immediately. Both the school and his parents agree that it's for the best if no one tries to contact him for a bit, to let him adjust to being home first."

  Peter and Cai grew very, very still, certain that the prefect was lying.

  Chris hadn't gone home. He was a lost boy.

  The rest of the students stayed just as still. Peter realized they knew the prefect lied as well. No one would try to contact Chris. And if someone did, like Thomas, he'd get bland emails in response, letters that would actually originate from Ravens' Hall, until Thomas gave up.

  The prefect continued with more lies that Peter didn't bother listening to. He knew he had to be careful, so very careful, or he'd be "lost" as well.

  After the prefect left, Jesse put his hand on Peter's arm.

  "Ow," Peter said, flinching. It hurt worse, now, than it had.

  "What happened?" Jesse asked as he removed his hand.

  Peter just shook his head.

  "You know he ain't gone home, right?" Jesse hissed.

  "Not here," Peter hissed back, looking around. Had anyone heard them?

  Jesse sat back. "Yeah. Not here." He was silent for another long moment before he said, "Look. I got some stuff to get together. And you look like half-baked death. Tomorrow, okay?"

  Something was off in what Jesse was saying, but Peter just nodded. "Tomorrow," he agreed.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't there today," Jesse added as they climbed the stairs together, Peter moving stiffly and slowly. All he wanted was to strip everything from his skin and collapse.

  "Same here," Peter admitted.

  "Night, Petie-Peter," Jesse said when they reached his floor.

  "Night, Jesse," Peter said, smiling once before he dragged himself up the stairs and finally to his room.

  While he stripped off his shirt, Peter finally realized what was bothering him. Jesse had been lying when he'd said something. Not about being sorry, but about tomorrow.

  Jesse wouldn't be there tomorrow. He was leaving tonight.

  With a groan, Peter pulled his shirt back on.

  Cai ignored him, tucking his head under his wing, already intent on going back to sleep. He thought they should leave Jesse alone.

  Peter rested against the doorframe for a moment, his eyes closed. Bed sounded so good right now, despite how the covers would grate on his skin.

  He shook himself. He had to go find Jesse. Now.

  The halls were already emptying out, no students left, but still Peter made a show of knocking at Jesse's door, then pretending to hear him say, "Come in."

  The room was empty, the balcony door open. Most of Jesse's things were still there. His pack was gone, and his good boots. Had Jesse hiked out, left himself a stash, then flown back? Then repeated that, walking the stash out farther and father?

  Peter didn't know. He just wished Jesse well, truly far and away from Ravens' Hall. He didn't know if Jesse could escape them, if anyone could. He closed the balcony door almost all the way, leaving just a crack that a clever raven could push open if necessary, just in case.

  As Peter was leaving, he called out, "'Night, Jesse!" still pretending that Jesse was there.

  When he turned around, he jumped, startled. Tisha, the hall monitor, was leaning against the wall opposite him. She wore a comfortable-looking, long sleep T and sweats, her orange monitor sash hanging from one shoulder down to her other hip.

  "He ain't in there, is he?" she accused.

  Peter crossed the hall to where Tisha stood. "He was friends with Chris. You know. The guy who left today."

  Tisha looked down at the floor. "Is he what happened to you?"

  "I don't want to talk about it," Peter said. He didn't know what kind of trouble he'd get into if he admitted to fighting.

  "Look, if your friend's gone, you need to report it. You know there are wolves out there. Coyots. Foxes. Lots of critters who wouldn't mind a bit of raven fricassee."

  "He's had a really rough day," Peter said, still stalling Tisha, still not saying anything that was untrue. "Leave him alone."

  "It's my job to report things like this. I'll catch hell if I don't."

  "It's my job to watch his back," Peter said, though that wasn't strictly true.

  Jesse had never asked for that. Just to watch for charms and spells.

  With that thought, Peter turned and looked at the door. Was there something more on Jesse's door? Something that had alerted Tisha? But he needed Cai's help for that, and Cai didn't want anything to do with Peter still.

  "I gotta report him."

  "Please, don't," Peter said. "Give him until the morning."

  Peter closed his eyes and swayed with exhaustion. He realized what he'd just said.

  Run, Jesse, run. Fly hard and fast.

  Tisha gave him an odd grin. "Hell, no. Reporting him might get me out o
f monitor duty for the rest of my life. If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have known, ya know."

  Peter knew she lied—she'd been watching Jesse, waiting for something like this.

  He had still betrayed his one friend.

  He watched Tisha go down the hall away from him, wishing he could stop her. The only way would be to fight her. Reason wouldn't work.

  But he couldn't fight her. Couldn't risk being declared a rogue himself.

  He couldn't save Jesse. That had never been his fate.

  With his heart aching and as sore as his body, Peter finally dragged himself back up the stairs and tumbled into bed, his exhaustion overriding his fears, at least for the time being.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Peter sat on the bed in one of the guest dorms with Sally, the same sort of room he'd stayed in when he'd first come to Ravens' Hall with his parents, with beige walls and an adjoining set of rooms. He hadn't let go of Sally's hand once. The bed was narrow and hard, and the cover felt scratchy under Peter's other hand. Outside the balcony door, the rich night called.

  The prefects had let them go off by themselves reluctantly, only after they'd verified for themselves that none of the tiger magic remained, enslaving Sally. Prefect Aaron had also taken one look at how Peter and Sally had stood holding hands, then had clapped them both on the shoulder, saying, "Well done."

  Peter knew the prefect understood that Sally was his mate, and so let them go. He knew they'd want to talk with her later.

  Sally hadn't said much of anything yet. She appeared to be thinking.

  Peter leaned closer and breathed in her now-clean scent—no traces of Tamara, Brin, or the damn tiger magic remaining.

  "Okay," Sally said, breaking the silence. "Okay. So I ran into Brin at the grocery store. Though she was probably waiting for me, wasn't she?"

  Peter nodded. "Yes. Because that's the one place she knew you wouldn't take Pixie."

  "Lots of people take their dogs to the grocery store," Sally protested.

  Peter raised his eyebrows at her.

  "You're right. I wouldn't do that." She sighed. "I did sneak him into work. Just because he seemed so frantic when I left the apartment alone."

  "I'm glad you did," Peter assured her, squeezing her hand.

  "It's kind of fuzzy after that," Sally admitted. "But some part of me knew, and accepted, what was happening. Like, it was okay."

  "No," Peter said automatically. "They took you against your will—"

  "I knew they were bringing me to you," Sally said quietly.

  Peter let go of Sally's hand and drew her into his arms, finally holding her close against his heart where she belonged.

  Cai sent him the image of nest, home, now.

  "So they brought me here. To Ravens' Hall. And Tamara—she isn't quite human, is she? She, um, changed. Into something that wasn't human at all. I don't think I was supposed to see or remember that. I remember her and Brin laughing at how they could do anything in front of me. Them kissing. Then Tamara changing."

  "What else did you see?" Peter asked, hoping that Sally might focus on just that.

  "She taunted me, telling me what a fine tiger warrior she made."

  Peter felt his spine grow stiff with fear. "And?"

  "And that you're a raven warrior, and how your kind, the tigers and the ravens, have been at war for centuries."

  "That's not true," Peter said dismissively.

  "She believes both parts. But are you? A raven warrior? Please, Peter."

  All the recitations Peter had copied for a decade were clear. He was never supposed to tell her, only the barest minimum, even if she was his mate.

  Cai, however, pushed forward without warning. "Yes," he croaked.

  Cai held them frozen.

  Peter shook inside with fear.

  Sally looked deep into their raven eyes for a heartbreaking time. Finally, she reached one hand up and stroked her fingers across his cheek, then up into hair that had already grown stiff, like proto-feathers.

  "And you…you can turn into a raven," Sally said. Wonder filled her voice.

  Cai faded back, leaving Peter on his own to answer.

  Peter wanted to say no. All his teaching and training had laid his path clear.

  But his heart bade him to say yes.

  He nodded his head once.

  Prefect Aaron was going to kill him, if Tamara didn't.

  "It's okay, it's okay," Sally said, pulling Peter to her, holding his head against her chest. "I will never, ever tell anyone. Ever. Your secret is safe with me. I promise."

  Peter heard ringing undertones in Sally's words, as if they'd been sung across a clear blue sky. Hope filled him as he raised his head. The words continued to reverberate, as if touched by magic. Sally looked to the corners of the room, as if following the notes, then looked back at Peter.

  "To hurt you would be to hurt me," Peter said, taking Sally's hands, the old words of the brotherhood blessing springing to his lips.

  "To hurt you would be to hurt me," Sally repeated easily.

  The charm tightened around both of them, singing out in jeweled tones.

  "One flesh, one blood, one wing, one soul," Peter recited.

  Sally's eyes widened but she repeated word for word, her voice strong and sure.

  "Come be my mate, casting aside all others," Peter said, changing the last few lines.

  When Sally repeated the words, Peter merely whispered, "I will."

  The tears gathering in Sally's eyes spilled down her cheeks, while her smile was radiant. "I will," she said firmly.

  Peter crushed Sally to him, kissing her madly, wildly, with all the love and passion he had. Her lips were soft, and as hungry as his, as she kissed back with strength and skill.

  Cai did a bouncing somersault, cawing loudly.

  Fly with mate.

  And for the rest of the night, Peter and Sally, his true mate, soared.

  * * *

  "So what happens tonight?" Sally asked, drawing Peter's hand into hers.

  They sat together on the bed, almost exactly as they had the night before. Now, even though it was morning and they'd already showered and eaten, Peter could still smell the heady odor of their sex, could still feel Sally's pulse strumming beneath his skin.

  "There will be combat," Peter told her.

  He didn't care what Prefect Aaron said about the other raven warriors who'd gone against tiger warriors, or the pitying looks the elders had given Sally that morning at breakfast. He was going to win. There was no other choice.

  "Today I need to practice." Magic. Combat. Sliding in and out of the glass armor. "Then tonight—"

  "I will be there," Sally assured him.

  Selfishly, that was what Peter wanted. "Are you sure?" he asked. He suspected the combat would be bloody, and he while he wanted her strength there, he didn't need her to be burdened with that.

  "Of course," Sally told him, squeezing his hand. "Ready to kick your butt if you do something stupid."

  "Thank you," Peter said, kissing her cheek. "For today, how about—"

  A knock on the door interrupted him.

  Peter glanced at the door. The strip around the lintel didn't flare. Someone neutral, then.

  "Good morning." Peter didn't know the young man in front of him, but his orange sash proclaimed him as a regular hall monitor. A quick look confirmed him as a raven warrior.

  "Someone is here to see you. They're waiting in the Warrior Room."

  "It isn't Jesse, is it?" Peter asked, his hopes skyrocketing.

  "No." The boy shook his head. "We're still all in mourning for our lost brother. It's someone else. I'm sorry."

  Peter felt the weight of Jesse's loss return, like a stone in his soul. Sally squeezed his arm briefly. Peter turned to her and said, "I suppose you could—"

  "Excuse me, I'm sorry. I wasn't clear. The person is here to see both of you."

  "Who is it?" Peter asked.

  Cai puffed his feathers up, ready to defend hi
s mate.

  "I’m afraid I can't say. If you'll come with me, sir, ma'am," the student said.

  Peter looked at Sally and shrugged. She shrugged back.

  After Peter closed the door behind them, he rested his hand on the wood for a moment, leaving more of his presence there. He would know if anyone crossed the barrier. He didn't want any surprises.

  When he turned away, Sally was looking at him with big eyes. But she didn't say anything, just took his hand as they went down the hall.

  The Warrior Room hadn't changed since Peter had been there last. The dark wood shone from its recent polishing, the fluorescent lights in their protective cages still hummed from the ceiling. Pole weapons, swords, and pads covered the far walls, and the scent of boys' sweat and feathers remained.

  A silver-haired man with a laughing smile stood barefoot in the middle of the room, dressed in a plain white shirt and black jeans. It took Peter a moment to place him, momentarily not recognizing him in such a different environment.

  "Rudi?" Peter asked, surprised to see the dancer here.

  "Peter! Sally! So good to see you both." Rudi strode across the floor, his hand out.

  Peter had his hand shaken vigorously, while Sally got a quick hug.

  "What are you doing here?" Sally asked.

  Peter nodded, confused. Rudi had always been friendly at the dance hall, always willing to give impromptu dance lessons, but they'd never been close or hung out outside of the dance hall. Sally seemed to share his bewilderment.

  "Ah. Well. I was sent," Rudi admitted, rubbing the back of his head and looking down at his feet, as if he was embarrassed. "By Pixie, as you know him."

  "What?" Sally asked. "Is he here? Did you bring him?" She'd gotten in contact with her dog sitter the night before, so she knew that Pixie would be taken care of for the weekend.

  "No. I left him in Seattle. He sent me instead."

  "Who—what, is Pixie?" Peter asked, bewildered.

  "He's our prince," Rudi announced proudly. "Well, he's a little insane. But still. Royalty all round."

  "Our?" Peter asked, taking a step back. He suddenly remembered that time at the dance hall, when Rudi had had that same sort of magical flash that Tamara had.

  "Rudolf Von DeWhite," he said, with a smile and a deep bow. "Proud warrior of the hound clan."