by Jayne Castel
The fury still coursed through her veins. She could hear her pulse throbbing in her ears. Her face was flushed, and her skin now prickled alarmingly.
Lilia swallowed, panic rising. Shadows, no.
She knew the signs all too well.
“I’m fine,” she gasped, pulling up the hood of the woolen cloak she wore. Clutching her bedraggled daffodils to her breast, she hurried on up the hill. She took the first right, onto one of the terraces, and then ducked into an empty alleyway.
The prickling sensation had intensified. It now felt as if an army of fire ants marched over her skin.
Lilia gasped as she felt herself shift.
She dropped her flowers, staring down at her hands. Russet-colored fur sprouted from her skin, and then her clothing fluttered to the moss-covered cobbles of the alleyway.
A heartbeat later she stood on four legs instead of two, and the walls of the alley seemed as high as cliffs above her. Lilia’s nose twitched. The odor of rotting fish in an iron bin at the far end of the alley suddenly seemed unbearable. Sounds she’d not picked up before—a dog whining somewhere, an argument between a man and woman inside a house nearly a block away—now echoed around her.
A heaviness around her neck alerted Lilia to the fact that although she’d shed her clothing, she still carried the charm stone Saul had gifted her about her neck. It was strange she hadn’t dropped it, although right now Lilia was too shaken to dwell on such things.
Quivering, Lilia padded up the alley, hiding behind a large bin. She tucked her plume-like tail under her, crouching out of sight. The sulfurous odor of rotting cabbage within the bin was almost overpowering.
Drawing in slow, deep breaths she willed herself to change back. She’d never had any control of her shifting. It came on only when she was consumed by anger or fear.
Idiot.
She should have been more careful.
Long moments passed, the raw sound of her panicked breathing filling her head.
Shift, damn you.
A cool sensation feathered over her skin, and then Lilia was rising up on two legs instead of four. The rank odors that filled this alley drew back, as did the deafening sounds of the surrounding town.
Cold air tickled her exposed breasts and belly.
Lilia glanced down, heart racing. I’m naked. As if shifting wasn’t bad enough, she always ended up unclothed in human form.
Shivering, Lilia ducked out from behind the bin and grabbed her skirt, blouse and vest, which lay in a pile where she’d shifted. With shaking hands, she donned her clothing, glancing around her as she did so. Any moment now, someone would walk past and discover her.
The crushed daffodils were looking sad now. Lilia abandoned them.
Dressed, she hurried out of the alley, returning to the street and onto Harbor Way. Head down, she fled up the hill, nearly running the last stretch to the inn.
She flung open the front door and barged into the common room, colliding with Dain, who had been in the process of exiting. They hit the floor in a tangle of limbs.
“Gods, Lily,” Dain wheezed from underneath her.
“Sorry,” she muttered, clambering off him. “I’m late.”
A feminine laugh rang out from across the room. Lilia looked up to see Ryana sitting by the fire, cup of ale in hand. “Good day, Lilia … I’m glad to see you’re keeping Dain in his place.”
Lilia rose to her feet, struggling to stay composed. She’d been looking forward to seeing the scop again, but Ryana wasn’t a welcome sight right now. “I’m late,” she repeated before fleeing to the kitchen.
9
Hunted
LILIA WIPED HER brow with the back of her forearm. It was so hot in the kitchen her head was starting to spin. Outdoors, it was the first mild day of spring, but in here, standing next to a glowing stove, it felt as if she was trying to breathe underwater.
Her temples ached this morning; she’d gone to bed on edge and had slept poorly. She’d been lucky the day before. Someone could have easily seen her shift. And if they had, she’d likely be hanging from a gibbet in front of the docks this morning.
The thought made her break out into a cold sweat.
For the first time since leaving Shingle Ford, she thought on her mother’s parting words. Folk don’t understand your kind, Lily. No one must ever know what you are.
Lilia’s chest constricted. Her mother was right. She shouldn’t have moved here. She was safer in her tiny backwater village, where she could live a hermit’s life and limit the risk of discovery.
Maybe I should go home.
Suddenly, the kitchen walls felt too close, constricting. Her laced blouse and thick skirts weighed down on her, clinging to damp skin, although strangely the charm stone Saul had given her—which she wore under her blouse—lay chill against her.
She didn’t know why she continued to wear it, for clearly Saul was never returning. Yet she found she couldn’t bring herself to take it off, even at night.
Beyond the thick kitchen walls, Lilia heard the faint thud of an axe on wood. Dain had been out back chopping logs for ages.
Deciding that she’d bring Dain something out to drink and get some fresh air herself, Lilia reached for a jug of freshly pressed apple juice and poured out two cups. Leaving the stifling kitchen behind, she stepped into the common room. Even though it was a warm day, a low fire flickered in the hearth. Ailin had his back to her as he wiped down tables. Neasa would be stripping down beds and cleaning the sleeping quarters.
Lilia crossed behind Ailin, taking the short, narrow passage leading to the courtyard at the back of the inn. She stepped outdoors. The bright sunlight made her squint, and she peered up at the cloudless blue sky. Not a breath of wind stirred the air.
Dain did not see her emerge into the courtyard. Stripped to the waist, he slammed the axe into the thick logs, splitting them easily before tossing the pieces aside and grabbing the next log.
Lilia stared at him, momentarily distracted from her own thoughts.
It was the first time she’d seen him shirtless. Her gaze slid down the lithe column of his back; his shoulders were broader than she had thought. His skin gleamed with sweat, the muscles flexing under his lightly tanned skin as he brought the axe down on the next log.
She knew Dain was attractive; she’d noticed it the first time she’d seen him. However, she’d been determined to keep him at arm’s length. But watching Dain now, she couldn’t help admire him. Her gaze slid over his taut stomach to the finely muscled contours of his chest—and her mouth went inexplicably dry.
Sensing her watching him, Dain lowered his axe and turned. “Hello, Lily.”
His voice brought her to her senses. She blinked, her gaze snapping upward to his face. He was grinning at her—that smug male expression that told her he’d seen the direction of her gaze and was enjoying the attention.
Lilia ground her teeth. What came over me?
She lifted the cups she carried. “I thought you might be thirsty …” Her voice trailed off when she saw he was still grinning. She fought the urge to throw the apple juice in his face. “Of course, if you’re not, I’ll just take these away …”
She turned, stiff-backed, and was about to march inside when Dain called out to her.
“Thanks … I’m parched.”
Lilia turned back and thrust one of the cups toward him. “Here you are then.”
He took it from her, and she could feel his gaze on her face. “You’re flushed … are you unwell?”
She nodded. “I just got overheated in the kitchen.”
His face turned serious. “It does get hot in there … Bruina once fainted.”
“Aye … well, I thought I’d better get some fresh air before I did.”
Dain looked about to say something else when the door behind Lilia leading to the common room flew open, and Ryana strode out into the courtyard. One look at her told Lilia she was leaving. She wore leggings, high boots, and a tunic belted at the waist, with a woo
len traveling cloak about her shoulders and a leather satchel slung across her front. Despite the warm day, she wore her fingerless gloves.
Ryana’s face was stern, her gaze troubled.
“Going so soon?” Dain greeted her. He reached for his tunic and shrugged it on, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “You just got here.”
“Aye,” Ryana replied, distracted. “But I had business in town first.” Her gaze snapped to Lilia. “There are strangers at port. A galleon has dropped anchor in the harbor and boatloads of men have come ashore.”
Lilia’s pulse accelerated.
A galleon. Had Saul returned after all these months? She made sure her expression remained neutral. “What do they want?”
Ryana’s cool blue gaze remained focused upon her. “They’re asking if anyone has seen a tall, dark-haired man with a southern accent.”
Lilia’s stomach leaped, and she lost her mask of indifference. “You think they’re looking for Saul?”
Ryana’s mouth compressed. “He’s the only person we’ve seen recently fitting that description.”
Lilia frowned, aware that Dain was now watching her intently. “Saul told me he commanded that ship,” she murmured. “I don’t understand … why would they be looking for him.”
“What else did he tell you?” Ryana pressed.
“Only that he serves the king of Anthor,” Lilia replied, uncomfortable now. “He was on a mission to the north … that’s all I know.”
“Why would he come back here?” Dain asked. Lilia chanced a glance in his direction and saw that his expression had gone hard.
Meanwhile, Ryana raked an exasperated hand through her unbound hair. “Right now, I’m more interested in knowing who those black-clad men are. They’ve already clashed with the Port Guard. They’re scouring the town as I speak, going from house to house and questioning folk.”
“They are The Shade Brotherhood.”
A man’s voice, low and self-confident, intruded on their conversation.
All three of them stiffened before turning toward the voice. A tall, cloaked figure stepped out from the shadow of the stables behind them. Saul of Anthor had entered the courtyard through the narrow wooden gate at the back and had been listening to them unseen.
Ryana folded her arms across her chest and regarded him coolly. “I was wondering when you’d turn up.”
Ignoring her, Saul’s gaze went to Lilia, the intensity of it pinning her to the spot.
“Hello again, Lilia.”
Lilia stared at him. Over the past few months, she’d convinced herself that Saul was never coming back. It was a shock to see him standing before her.
“Good morning, Saul,” she replied stupidly.
“Let’s dispense with the pleasantries,” Ryana cut in, her tone sharp. She clearly didn’t like being ignored. “Why are The Shade Brotherhood hunting you?”
“The ‘who’?” Lilia asked. However, it seemed no one was in a rush to enlighten her.
Saul glanced over at Ryana, his handsome features tightening. “You’ve got a lot to say for yourself, scop,” he growled. His attention focused on Lilia once more. “You have something of mine. I need it back.”
Lilia scowled. “Excuse me?”
Saul sighed, his lean frame bristling with impatience. “The stone I gave you. Give it to me please.”
Lilia stared at him. Suddenly she felt like the world’s biggest fool. He’d looked at her with soft eyes as he’d put the charm stone around her neck. He’d told her it was his promise that he’d come back for her. She realized now what an idiot she had been.
“What stone?” Ryana demanded, her voice now flint-hard.
Lilia swallowed, her hand going to where the charm sat under her blouse. Her fingers closed over it. Wordlessly, she pulled it free of her clothing, holding it up so Ryana could see. The bright morning sun glinted on its smooth grey surface.
Ryana breathed a curse.
“What is it?” Dain demanded. “What’s wrong?”
Ryana ignored him. Instead she was glaring at Saul. “How did you get that stone?”
Saul glowered at her. “None of your business.” He took a step toward Lilia, no pretense at charm on his face now. “Come on, Lilia. I tire of this.”
“Not another step.” Dain had picked up his axe and stepped forward between Lilia and Saul. Likewise, Ryana placed herself in his path.
Saul gave a soft laugh, not remotely intimidated. He looked over Dain’s shoulder at Lilia and grinned. “Who are these two … your bodyguards?”
Lilia put the charm stone away and took a step back from him. “You’re not taking it,” she told him firmly.
Saul favored Lilia with a hard smile. “Would you deny a king? I’m Reoul of Anthor’s son and that stone belongs to him. Don’t stand in the way of royal business … don’t make me hurt you.”
Reoul of Anthor’s son. Lilia went cold. Saul was a prince.
“Fool,” Ryana snarled, not remotely impressed by his admission. “You took that stone out of its iron casing and gave it to her, didn’t you?
Saul cast Ryana an irritated look, as if she was a gnat buzzing in his ear—one he desperately wanted to swat. “Aye … so what?”
“The King Breaker had a protection charm woven into it,” Ryana countered angrily. “If you want that piece of it back, you’ll have to kill Lilia first.”
Silence fell in the courtyard. Saul stiffened, and for the first time, he scrutinized Ryana, his dark gaze narrowing. “Who are you?”
Ryana didn’t reply. Instead, she peeled off the glove she wore on her right hand and held her palm up. Her palm bore a tattoo—a black, inked-in eight-pointed star.
The Star of Darkness. Although Lilia had never seen one before, she knew what it was—all folk did.
“Enchanter,” Saul hissed the word like a curse.
Ryana’s mouth curved. “Aye.”
“Never mind that,” Dain cut in, his voice harsh. “What did you call that stone, Ryana?”
“The King Breaker,” Ryana replied, her gaze never leaving Saul.
Lilia’s belly cramped. She reached up, clasping the ice-cold stone with the intent of ripping it from her neck but found she couldn’t bring herself to.
Ryana must have been mistaken. This stone looked too plain to be the object that had locked away The Shadow King. She knew the legend—every child in The Four Kingdoms learned it at their mother’s knee. Centuries earlier, a brave and talented enchanter of the Dark had forged a talisman to defeat Valgarth. He’d succeeded in imprisoning The Shadow King, but the act had taken his life, and snapped The King Breaker in two. After that the two pieces of the stone—the only object that could free Valgarth—were lost. Folk believed they were gone forever.
Ryana glanced Lilia’s way. “You can’t take it off, can you?” she asked.
Lilia’s breathing quickened, before she shook her head. Her fingers closed tight over the stone; even through the linen of her blouse she could feel its chill, burning like ice. Shadows, how she wanted to tear it off and throw it at Saul. However, the need to protect it rose so strong within her it was as if she was defending her newborn child. Ryana was right; he’d have to rip it from her lifeless fingers before she’d give it up.
“Enough chat,” Saul growled, reaching for one of the many knives strapped to his body. “I’m sorry, but I need that stone, Lilia.”
Things might have gone ill then, for Dain and Ryana moved closer together, forming a wall between Lilia and Saul.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound of a heavy fist thundering against The Grey Anchor’s front door, caused all four of them to freeze.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
“All right.” Ailin’s harassed voice reached them. He must have left the common room and gone down into the cellar. “Keep your cloaks on, I’m coming.”
Saul’s expression turned hunted, and he uttered a low cu
rse under his breath. “They’re here.”
10
Into Chaos
LILIA STARED AT him, uncomprehending. The King Breaker. The Shade Brotherhood. The King of Anthor. It was too much to take in. Her head ached from the effort to make sense of all of this.
Ryana wheeled, eyes wild. “We need to go.”
Dain started. “What, now?”
“Unless you want to start swinging that axe at trained killers, yes.” It was Saul who answered. “I have a boat moored on the northern coast of the isle. We can escape in it.”
Dain’s face twisted. “We’re not going anywhere with you.”
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
“Open this door or we’ll break it down!” A deep voice from the street beyond reached them. The voice was slightly muffled, but the menace in it made Lilia’s heart race.
She heaved in a deep breath.
I need to calm down. She could feel the heat rising in her body, a warning she was close to shifting. Once her skin started prickling, it was nearly impossible to halt the change.
Breathe.
“Take your chances here then,” Saul snarled back at Dain.
“If he’s got a boat, it’s our only chance to get off the isle,” Ryana replied. Her gaze was riveted upon the open door that led to the common room. “In a few moments, we won’t have a choice. I say we take Saul’s offer and run.”
“We can’t trust him,” Dain shot back.
“Right now, he’s our only option,” Ryana reminded him.
“Come on then,” Saul whirled and strode toward the gate at the back of the courtyard. “We go now or not at all.”
Dain spat out a curse before spinning round and grabbing Lilia by the arm. He dragged her after him, while Ryana followed close behind.
Lilia didn’t resist him. She was in shock. It felt as if this was happening to someone else—and she was merely a bystander, looking on.
There was no time for goodbyes. Dain didn’t even have time to warn his parents. His grip on her arm was crushing, the only sign that their urgent departure bothered him. The morning sun glinted off the axe-blade he carried in his left hand, reminding Lilia just how real the danger was.