I couldn’t stop pacing, my fists clenched, and shoulders
tight. I stretched my neck, trying to ease the tension, feeling caged. I
wanted to leave, wanted to escape- but where would I go? My eyes fell on the
shiny black feather resting on my dresser. I let out a frustrated snort. It
was ridiculous, hanging onto such childish things. Crossing to the dresser, I snatched
up the necklace and held it over the trashcan, telling myself to let it go. A
feeling of panic clawed at my chest, and my fingers tightened around the chain.
I couldn’t do it.
I slipped the chain around my neck and stroked the soft
feather. I finally faced my pale reflection in the tall mirror. I could see
my father there, in the slant of my eyes, the square set of my shoulders, in my
compact strength. What I couldn’t see was any trace of my mother. Nothing in
me resembled the cool, slender woman whose elegant face stared out at me from
pictures.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, holding it as I
struggled to find my determination. I was my father’s daughter, strong and
fierce. I fought to drown the voice that was crying out inside me. I don’t
want to do this anymore. I can’t.
I would. There was no other choice. The confines of my
cage were familiar. The sickness in my stomach more intense, but not new. The
aching in my shoulders was just a reminder of the responsibility they carried.
*****
I paused in an alcove to double check that everything was
in place. My pistol and dagger were tucked into the side of the corset-like
leather halter I wore over my blue bohemian-style dress. I ran my hands over
the dress to smooth out any wrinkles, and ensure it lay right over my leggings
and tall leather boots, and then pushed myself into motion. As I made my way
toward the banquet hall, I mentally rehearsed the name, family, and attributes
of each person that would attend.
I almost bumped into father as he came around a corner. I
stopped and gave him a distracted smile as I tried to remember the name of the
middle son of the foxes. Father’s gaze skimmed over me and he pitched his
voice low, so only me, and the guards following him would hear. “Now
remember,” he said shortly. “Make sure Winona has everything she needs, but
don’t distract attention from her.”
I nodded. Kent? I wondered. Kyle? It was definitely a
“K” name. Father leveled a glare at me. “And remember, speak only when spoken
to.” I waved a hand in acknowledgement, and father rolled his eyes. “Do not
embarrass me!”
Father entered while I waited outside the banquet room to
escort Winona. She glided down the hallway a few minutes later, looking like a
queen. Her high-necked dress was edged in delicate lace, and fastened with a
million little pearl buttons. Over this, she wore a silk corset the same
purple color as father’s robes. The dress floated about her calves,
accentuating her shiny white kid boots. They clicked over the stone floor,
drawing all eyes to her as we entered the room. Her shiny blond hair had been
woven into an intricate bun, and she made sure to turn her head to each side to
show it off as she greeted the people seated around the table.
I silently took my place behind and slightly to the right
of Winona’s chair, standing with my feet spread and my hands relaxed, but
within easy reach of my weapons. A couple of the other men and women seated at
the table also had servants stationed behind their chairs, but they weren’t
armed. My eyes slowly traveled over the Shifter elite seated at our table,
putting a name to each face- bear, lion, eagle, fox, wolf, hawk.
Father spread out his arms. “Welcome to my home,” he said
warmly. “My daughters and I are honored to have such fine company.”
Winona smiled, and I inclined my head. Generic greetings
were exchanged. Several of the men around the table complimented Winona,
seeking to catch her attention. I tuned out their jabbering.
My eyes skimmed the room as I ran “K” names around my
head. The food was served, and I prayed my stomach wouldn’t growl. The soup-
some sort of savory stew, hearty enough to satisfy the meat eaters at the
table, smelled delicious. Giving up on what’s-his-name, I began a mental
review of the territories owned and defended by each family in order to
distract myself from the food. I would eat later, when my duties as guard were
done.
Through all this, I remained alert. A social function
like this may seem boring, but my mother had been murdered during a big party
at the house. I knew better than to let my guard down. As I reviewed land
holdings, I carefully scanned the room, but the visiting guards just looked
bored.
As dinner progressed, the talk moved to the war. A grey-bearded
man with sharp features and stunning golden eyes shook his head at something
Winona had said. “The shifters can defend themselves. It’s the humans I worry
about,” he said. Hawk I thought, watching his eyes.
A woman a few seats down, a dark haired beauty with pouty
red lips, piped up in agreement. “It’s true,” she said sadly. I hear reports
of dry corpses almost every day. The Fallen have no respect for life when they
feed.” Bear.
“And they are completely conscienceless- not that you
would expect much from a creature with no soul. I’ve had reports of them
killing children and lower order shifters just this week- people who could
never be expected to defend themselves.” This from a sandy-haired man with an
expressive face. Lion, I thought rather wistfully. I had always found the big
cats rather attractive. They tended to have a strong sense of valor.
I listened stoically as each person recounted tales of
murder and evil. I wondered how we could ever win against such terrible
monsters. The Fallen were creatures completely dominated by bloodlust.
Soulless, evil creatures with the power of the wind and the skies at their disposal.
My fingers twitched with the desire to feel the comforting weight of my pistol
in my hand.
I shifted my weight and rolled my shoulders back, seeking
to ease the tension that was building there from standing still for so long. I
was relieved when dinner was over at last and we stood by the door exchanging
farewells with our guests. The foxes paused to shake father’s hand and bow to
Winona. There were two of them, brothers. The younger brother guarded the
elder in much the same way that I accompanied Winona. As the elder brother
exchanged pleasantries with my father and Winona, the younger one held out his
hand to me. “It’s a pleasure to meet the famed red wolf,” he said with a
smile. “My name is-”
“Kade!” I said, just a touch too loud. Father gave me a look
out of the side of his eye and I grimaced.
Kade laughed in surprise. I looked like a nitwit. “I
apologize,” I said formally. “It’s just that… it just came to me.”
He gifted me with a friendly smile, and my eyes lingered
on the soft red stubble that was visible on his cheeks. His hair was a dark
auburn, but his beard would be a much brighter color. “I would love to be
able to talk sometime- compare notes.” He glanced at his older brother, who
had finished taking his leave. “Good night.” He fell into step behind his
brother as they exited.
I smiled at his easy acceptance. Among wolves, my hair
color was a curse. It was a bad omen, and often resulted in rude comments from
the older wolves. But among foxes, having a red pelt was common.
Winona snorted. “I can’t believe you invited them,” she
said to father. “Foxes aren’t real predators. I don’t know who decided to
include them with the ranks of apex animals.”
I sighed at her jab. “Their family is very clever,” I
reminded her. “That’s why they own a good portion of the business in the
east. Not everything is about brute strength and dominance.”
Father turned his attention to me, narrowing his dark
brown eyes. “You did well until your little outburst,” he said with long
suffering patience. “Next time, remember we are not here for your matchmaking
endeavors. Try to act like an adult.”
I exchanged one little bit of pleasantry and suddenly I
was a whore, whereas half the evening had been comprised of overtures toward
Winona and that was fine. I bit my tongue and nodded.
Once father and Winona left the room with his guards, I
made my way to the kitchen. Most of the servants had already eaten, but a few
lingered around the big wooden table that took up one end of the massive room.
The smells wafting from the kitchen were delicious, and I followed my nose. My
stomach rumbled loudly as I entered.
“I don’t think you growl that loud when you’re furry and
four-footed,” Logan called from the table.
I crossed the room and pulled up a barstool, scoping out
what was left on the serving trays. Pulling a half-empty tray of meat toward
myself, I gave him a warning look. “You try standing around while everyone
else is stuffing their face and see if your stomach doesn’t growl.” I gestured
at my harness, cinched tight over my narrow waist. “Look at me, I’m wasting
away!”
Logan rolled his eyes, and the cook snorted. The big man
pulled a tray of bread off the counter and slid it and a crock of fresh butter
onto the table next to me. He gave Logan a warning look. “Only an idiot picks
on a hungry wolf.”
I nodded and swallowed a mouthful of warm, homemade
bread. “You should really listen to him Logan,” I said. “One day you’re going
to end up wolf-chow.” I bared my teeth.
He only shook his brown head. “I’m a wolf too, you
know.” Though, in actuality he was a mixed breed, wolf and coyote. He looked
up suddenly. “That reminds me- my mom still wants to meet you, Wren. Come
home with me this weekend. She bakes a mean peach pie.”
I wrangled a bite of bread into my mouth before the melted
butter could run down my chin. “Why do you always want to take me home with
you?” I asked around a mouthful.
Logan rubbed the back of his neck, a dusky color creeping
up from his chest. I paused and started at him. “Ah, Logan- you don’t have a
crush on me or something?”
He dropped his hand in alarm. “What? Are you crazy? No
way!” The cook snorted.
I eyed Logan suspiciously, as I dug into the leftover
stew. He was younger than I was, but fiercely protective. “Look,” he said
defensively. “We’ve been friends for years. She asks about you, so I just thought
it would be nice if you two could meet.” He threw up his hands in
exasperation. “Besides, it would do you some good to get away from here and
out of Winona’s shadow for a few days.”
I swallowed. “Sorry, no can do,” I informed him. “I have
training with the new martial arts instructor, and field strategy drills all
weekend. Maybe I could come visit Sunday afternoon?”
He slid off his stool and shook his head. “There won’t be
time. She lives in Ardus- that’s way out west- almost into Fallen lands. You
wouldn’t get back here in time for drills on Monday.”
I shrugged, all my concentration on stacking thick slices
of beef between two rolls. “Maybe next time.”
Logan headed for the exit. “I mean it,” he said
seriously. “You need to take a break once in a while, get out, see the world.
This isn’t healthy.”
I waved him away and squished my sandwich flat so that it
would fit in my mouth. “I’m fine. I have duties here.” There was no such
thing as a break.
A
mist of rain hazed the mirror grey sky, and mud squelched up through the lush
green grass beneath my boots. I knelt to place the bouquet of pale lavender
irises on the base of the tall marbled headstone.
“Hello mom,” I whispered, ignoring the dampness soaking
into the knees of my supple leather pants. “Happy Birthday.”
I breathed deep, filling myself with the pungent,
rain-scented air. Reaching out, I ran my fingertips over the smooth curve of
stone, then down across the bumps that outlined the dates of such a short
life. I barely had any memory of her, just vague memories of a comforting hand
and a rich alto voice singing me to sleep. She had been murdered when I was
three years old, at the beginning of the war.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I miss you,” I said
softly. I took a deep breath, and then let it out in a rush. “Oh Mom…I try so
hard, but it’s never good enough.” I rested my palm on the cold surface of the
stone, wishing it were my mother’s warm hand. “I wonder if things would be
different if you were here.” Maybe she would understand. Maybe she would
temper the harsh edges of my father and sister.
I dropped my hand, balling up my fists and resting them on
my thighs. A gust of wind brought a mist of rain, the dampness mingling with
the tears that streamed down my cheeks. I was so alone. “What should I do?”
I asked the cold stone. “How can I be who they need me to be, when I’m so
completely wrong for the job?”
I closed my eyes and sat, counting my breaths, waiting for
an answer. The dampness in the air accumulated on my face and back, forming
tickling streams. I don’t know how long I sat there, completely still, waiting.
I pushed myself to my feet when I heard the metallic sound of the gate opening
and closing.
Father was coming down the path. I waited as he came
toward me, carrying a single blood red rose. He gestured toward the iris. “I
used to give those to your mother every year.” Stooping, he placed the rose on
top of the headstone. “Roses were her favorite though.”
“You should have told me you were coming. We could have
walked over together,” I said softly.
He stood, meeting my gaze. “Don’t you have training
today?”
I rolled my shoulders. “Is it really necessary? You know
I’m a better fighter than the new recruits are. I’ve trained with you since I
was little. Why can’t I go to the more advanced classes with Winona?”