Shifters After Dark Box Set

by S M Reine et al.

  “Nothing is going to happen to me.” He swept back a piece of her hair and gathered her up to comfort her. But he was firm as he whispered in her ear, “Trust me, Aein.”

  His embrace, though, told a different story. He knew as well as she that they would never see each other again.

  Chapter Four

  She mounted her horse. Perhaps without a cart to pull, perhaps with only one rider to worry about, she could go faster than they had on their way here.

  She paused for just a moment to look back at Lars. He lifted a single hand in farewell, his red hair shining as the pale fog passed between them and cut them off.

  She wondered how on all the gods’ earth she could be fast enough to get back to save him.

  And that was when she heard the creature.

  She heard his mighty paws upon the earth. She heard his snaps and snarls. She spurred her horse down the planked road, but it was right behind her. She peered into the grey mist, looking for him. She took her bow and arrow and fired where she thought she heard the sound. There was no indication she hit anything. At least she was leading him away from Lars, she told herself. And that was when she heard the cries of the men and she knew what was going on. She slowed her horse to a walk.

  It was the fog.

  It had captured all the sounds from the night before and decided to play them for her so she would know what she abandoned Lars to face. She heard the cries of the men who died, the echoes of the animal killing them. She heard all of their last moments, and then the fog began to play the sounds again. She spurred her horse into a faster gait, trying to keep herself calm.

  Lars would have at least a month with the fog before reinforcements could arrive.

  She pushed her horse to go even faster.

  The swamp slowly faded to drier land. The trees with their dripping moss changed to trees with their summer fruit. And then the trees changed to the pines and evergreens and she knew she was getting close. She pushed her horse as much as she could without causing him to drop. It would do no good to kill him. But she cut the time in half, arriving at the stronghold in one week instead of two.

  She hoped it would be fast enough.

  The watch at the barbican was quick to admit her in. Word had obviously gotten around that she was headed for the border. For her to be back so soon was enough to cause anyone who knew of the eastlands worry. She leapt off her horse without a word of explanation to anyone and made straight to the petition room.

  She was admitted into Lord Arnkell’s presence almost immediately upon arrival. He wore a tunic of green velvet and a band of yellow-painted iron around his head. He was sitting on his carved wooden throne. Several advisors stood beside him in hushed conversation, which stopped the moment she strode into the room.

  Despite the heavy news she carried, her traitorous heart still skipped a beat being in the same room with Lord Arnkell. It was the draw of him. There was some aura, some attraction, which made a person want to yield their power. Was the yearning love? Or just relief that finally there was someone strong enough to take this burden from her?

  She bent down on one knee before him.

  “Arise,” he said, with a motion of his hand. His square jaw twitched beneath his stubble. “I received word from my lookouts you returned.”

  She stood. Their eyes connected, his light brown eyes to her dark ones.

  “I come bearing terrible news,” she said.

  He sat forward in his throne as the entire room fell to absolute quiet. “Proceed.”

  “We arrived at the rendezvous point to discover the guards Johan and Whalter were dead. They were brutally killed by some sort of animal.”

  There was a murmur of shock that sped around the court.

  Lord Arnkell silenced them with a single motion of his gloved hand. “We shall send our deepest sympathies to their families, but animal attacks are not unheard of and certainly not cause for one of my warriors to leave her post.”

  She wished Lars was here to explain it. “It was Lars’s command, my lord. He stated the animal bites were unlike anything he had ever seen before. He stated he needs further reinforcements… that the border needs further reinforcements. He says that this is how it always begins when trouble crosses over. That we must prepare.”

  “And you? You saw these wounds.”

  She nodded. “Please. Lars is left guarding the border alone.”

  Lord Arnkell turned to an advisor. “Whom can we spare?”

  “I shall check with the commander, my lord. We are at a skeleton crew, at best, having sent out our best men to secure the border posts prior to your upcoming nuptials.”

  Lord Arnkell sighed. “Very well. Do what you can.” He looked at Aein severely. “I thought after watching your training that you were advanced enough to handle the challenges of the border. Evidently I was wrong, and that was my misjudgment. You are to stay here and take upon the duties of whomever we have to pull in order to handle this issue you have created.”

  His sideways rebuke hit her like a blow to the stomach. She had obeyed her commanding officer’s orders. She had come to report a grave danger. “My lord…” she stammered. “I only came to warn you of a serious threat to this stronghold and its people.”

  “There is no threat to the stronghold and its people. There was an animal attack and you left your post.”

  “That is not… Let me go back and serve my time with Lars,” she begged, wanting somehow to make this right.

  “You allowed the madness of the fog to affect you. It is not your fault. Lars has been commanded to the border too many times for a single man in a year. We were all aware of the dangers. I am sure he convinced you of his logic. I had hoped with a partner such as yourself, he would have had the strength to stay sane. You were obviously not strong enough. As soon as Princess Gisla brings her father’s battalion, we will all have some relief. But that has not happened yet, so we must do what we must. Now, you are dismissed,” he said, not giving her another glance. “Send in the next petitioner.”

  Aein closed her mouth with a snap and stood, walking backwards out of the room. The doors closed in her face as she stepped outside the room and she felt her embarrassment tighten in her chest. Lord Arnkell had been watching her. He had noticed. He thought her well beyond her years and capacity… and she had failed him. She felt her face burning with red shame. If she looked in a mirror, she was sure she would be as bright as Lars after too much time in the sun.

  She walked back to her room and found the few belongings she carried back with her upon her bed, including the bag full of mushrooms for Cook Bolstad. She wiped her nose and the hot, angry tears from her cheeks. Perhaps he would be happy to see her, she thought. Perhaps once he saw the mushrooms, she would feel like she managed to do one thing right. She grabbed the sack and made her way down into the kitchen.

  It was like no time had passed in the three weeks she had been gone. Cook Bolstad looked up in shock, though. He seemed to want to run to her, but stopped himself. They always had a connection and she could see him processing her appearance. She willed him to stay back. Any show of kindness and she would lose control. She’d be known as the Weepy Warrior of Arnkell. She could not lose any more face in front of the people of the stronghold.

  With great relief, he put on a mask of indifference and went back to his cooking. “Back so soon?”

  “I could not bear to be away from you,” she replied, not quite able to meet his yet. She plopped the bag onto the counter. “Plus, I could hardly wait to get rid of these.”

  He came over cautiously and opened the bag. Upon seeing the contents, Aein was sure she saw tears prickle in his eyes. They were two of a kind.

  “You found them,” he whispered. “Oh, Aein…”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The grumpy man came over and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her firmly upon the temple. “I am very glad to see you, I am. Truly.” He parted them, holding her out at arm’s length. “Now,” he said, “tel
l me all about your experience on the boarder.”

  “It was awful,” she replied. She pointed at the sack. “You had better appreciate those because Lord Arnkell says I will never be going back.”

  “One should never say never,” he replied.

  “I feel fairly confident that ‘never’ is not going to be long enough for him... not after he said…”

  Cook Bolstad took the mushrooms into the larder, pretending not to notice as she wiped away a tear that accidentally slipped out. She could hear him slide back the flagstone and place them inside. They were precious indeed. He returned and rinsed the dust off his hands before going back to his cooking. He handed Aein a mallet and a piece of chicken to pound flat. He knew just what to do to make her feel better. After a few minutes he came over to inspect her handiwork.

  “It will be the thinnest, most tender chicken fillet the stronghold has ever bitten into. Unfortunately, Lord Arnkell will be dining tonight on a stringy, old rooster I’ve been saving just for such an occasion,” he said with a wink.

  Aein handed him the mallet. “Thank you.”

  “You are home,” he replied, unable to keep from pressing a kiss upon her head. “You are home safe, you smell worse than a horse, and I could not be happier.”

  Chapter Five

  Aein fired her arrow into the target, pleased as it struck center. If nothing else, these weeks as she waited for Lars to return from the border gave her time to continue her training. She made a half-hearted attempt to hassle the new recruits the way he always seemed to bother her, but she wasn’t very good at it. She found herself retreating to the archery green whenever she had time off. The other warriors in the barracks greeted her with stony silence. No one seemed to understand why she was back, what could have caused her to desert her post, what could have made her leave her partner behind.

  She lowered her bow as the wave of emotions washed over her.

  “Excellent aim,” said a voice over her right shoulder. She looked behind her to find a man she had never seen before.

  He was tall with a heavy brow and straight, noble nose. Over his chainmail, he wore a shining, silver-colored breast plate. She could not even imagine the expense. It was far finer than anything they had at the stronghold. His hair was closely shorn, but appeared to be some shade of blonde, or at least that is what the hairs on his arms and his eyebrows seemed to suggest. He held out his hand. “Finn. From the Kingdom of Haidra.”

  She took a deep breath. Of course. The wedding day was coming soon and the princess’s father was wise to send out someone to investigate the stronghold for safety.

  She gripped his forearm in greeting. “Aein. Of the Arnkell Stronghold.”

  Finn’s thin lips broke into a wide smile, revealing his straight, square teeth. His weather-beaten face crinkled around his merry eyes. “Aein. A pleasure. You have skill,” he stated, pointing at where she had shot.

  “Thank you,” she replied, not sure entirely what to do in this situation.

  “Mind if I try?” he asked.

  She motioned. “Be my guest.” She handed him her bow and pulled an arrow from her quiver. He tested the bow’s strength to get a feel for its pull. He notched the arrow carefully and took aim. He drew his breath to prepare for release… and missed the center of the mark widely.

  He laughed again and handed the bow back to Aein. “I’m afraid I have not your skill.”

  She smiled at this gentle stranger. “You should try again.”

  “No,” he said, rubbing his hand over his head. “I would only embarrass myself… again. Come, the least I can do is retrieve your arrows.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she replied.

  As they walked down the green, he asked, “So, have you lived here long?”

  “My parents died in a raid when I was a child,” she said. “I have lived here ever since.”

  He nodded, taking in her words silently. “There have been so many dark times, so many deaths. I hope that this union will bring the end to such days.” He bent over and pulled the arrows from the target, handing them back to her. His fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary to release them. “Is he a good man?” he asked. “This Lord Arnkell?”

  “Of course,” said Aein. “I have chosen to pledge my own life to protect him.”

  “Good,” said Finn. He blinked in the sun. “I have pledged my own life to Princess Gisla. Even more than peace, though, I want her to be happy. I suppose that seems foolish when so much is at stake.”

  “No,” said Aein. Unthinking, she took his hand. It was rough beneath hers, calloused and muscular from carrying a sword. She released it, embarrassed by her familiarity. “No,” she said again. “I feel the same.”

  Finn shifted his feet, suddenly very interested in something on the ground. He cleared his throat. “Would you mind letting me buy you a cup of ale? I would like to hear more about you… you and your life here.”

  “Of course,” said Aein.

  “It is just a drink,” he explained, holding up his hands against the protest she did not make. “Nothing more. Just… a drink between fellow soldiers who are soon to find themselves on the same side.”

  “Of course,” she replied again, strangely wishing he had not made the clarification. “In fact,” she added, “I might know a secret spot with the best food and ale west of the border.”

  Finn laughed. “I knew there was something I liked about you from the moment I saw you.”

  Aein laughed back. There was something she liked about him, too. “Follow me,” she said.

  The casks of ale were stored down in the stronghold cellar. The drinks flowed freely throughout dinner, and she knew Cook Bolstad would not begrudge her a few tankards outside of regular hours. In fact, when one of the newer members of the kitchen brought Cook Bolstad in to see Aein and Finn seated close to one of the best kegs, he placed his arm around the young man and guided him out, explaining to him how things worked in his kitchen.

  Finn chuckled. “You do have connections, don’t you,” he remarked, raising his tankard to Aein.

  She laughed and explained, “I happen to know the cook.”

  Finn pointed his finger at where Cook Bolstad exited, his voice slurring just a touch. “That, my dear Aein, is the most powerful man in any stronghold. A man who can break the spirit of every man, woman, and child under the roof of any such as Lord Arnkell, and don’t you forget it. You treat him right.”

  “Cook Bolstad raised me after my parents’ death,” confided Aein, taking another sip.

  “Ah…” said Finn. “Even more reason.”

  She regarded him. “And what of you? Who do you treat kindly there in King Haidra’s kingdom?”

  “I am close to the royal family,” he admitted, running his thick thumb along the lip of his tankard. “My father and mother served as guards under King Haidra. And I serve Princess Gisla.”

  “No other family?” Aein asked, the beer giving her the bravery to find out if Finn had any deeper attachments.

  “No,” said Finn. “All gone to the grave and now I find myself betrothed to my career.”

  “What is she like? The princess?” asked Aein leaning forward. “None of us know anything about her. Only Lord Arnkell has even seen her picture.”

  “Ah,” said Finn. “You would like her. Very similar to you. A warrior. Her coloring is a bit different than yours. Dark where you are light. Light where you are dark. But she leads us well.” He once again pointed to where Cook Bolstad disappeared. “She knows how to treat a cook, especially one who takes in stray little orphans and raises them to be women such as yourself.” Finn set down his tankard. His eyes seemed blurry and his stance swayed. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am exhausted and it would be best if I found my bed before I fell asleep here in the cellar and had to be rolled out in the morning with all the empty casks.”

  Aein gave him a friendly nod and watched him he walked out. She liked him. He was confident and strong beneath his soft-spoken kindness. S
he felt like she had not gotten to know a whole lot about him, but she liked him.

  She reached down to pick up his tankard and realized it was still completely full.

  He was a mystery, she thought.

  Chapter Six

  She was roughly shaken awake. “Get up! The princess will be here!”

  Aein sat up in her bed, pushing back her coarse, wool blanket, and rubbed her eyes. Around her, the other members of the guard were coming to. The dawn barely lit the sky. No one seemed to be awake except for the guards and the birds.

  Aein ran her brush through her hair, smoothing out the tangles and knots until it hung with a high gloss. She pulled her dress uniform out of her footlocker. It was the first time she would don the green trousers and shirt. She slid them on and then placed her chainmail over it. The chainmail had been freshly oiled and cleaned, giving it a gleam she had not seen since she had received it. Finally, she pulled out her special leather armor. It was freshly painted green and yellow in the colors of Lord Arnkell’s coat of arms.

  She looked around and everyone was taking similar care. No one met her eyes, though. They still only interacted with her when necessary, presenting her with cold professionalism. She thought about how she and Lars would have been back from the swamps by today if everything had gone according to plan. He still had not arrived, though, and no one would give her any information on what was going on.

  She pushed aside what that meant.

  Breakfast would be ready in the great hall, but Aein decided she had enough of silent meals. Finn had sat at Lord Arnkell’s table as an honored guest for a week before disappearing a few days ago. He had raised his glass to her whenever she entered, but made no effort to join her. Lord Arnkell had long since stopped acknowledging her. She understood. Finn was, after all, an emissary from the Haidra Kingdom, but she found herself wishing for another moment on the archery green with him, another evening spent in Cook Bolstad’s cellar.

  She walked into the kitchen and it was a mad buzz of activity, so different from the sleepy pace of the rest of the stronghold.