He sighed heavily and turned a deep brown frown on me. “Winona
is in the elite class so that she can practice her leadership skills. You
don’t need those kinds of things. Your place is with the soldiers who will see
combat.”
I gritted my teeth. “But I want to do more.”
He leveled a dark look at me. “There can only be one
queen, remember that. Wherever you and Winona are on the same ground, there
will always be a battle. You need to learn your place- and let her have
hers.” He turned back to mother’s grave, dismissing me.
I turned and walked away. “Why did you always give her
irises, if roses were her favorite?” I whispered as I passed Dad. He
stiffened, but didn’t reply.
I stooped and picked up my short sword and pistol from
where I had left them, just outside the gate. Strapping them to my leather harness,
I headed toward the training room. General Yates was there, working with the
young shifters that were approaching their eighteenth birthdays. I had hoped
that General Maddox would be teaching today, but no such luck. “General,” I
dipped my head in greeting and went to take my place among the others.
“You’re late.” He turned his attention back to the rest
of the recruits. “Short swords today,” he said in a flat voice. “You need to
be versatile in several weapons. On the field, you may lose your sword or
pistol. The short sword is good for close fighting.” He paced the ranks of
youngsters, all eager for fighting glory. “Grab a sparring sword and break out
into partners. His eyes came to rest on me. “Wren, you’re with me today.”
I grabbed my weapon and joined him at the edge of the room. His dark blue
eyes met mine. “Today was the queen’s birthday,” he said softly. I nodded,
swinging my sword experimentally. “I know you and your family must miss her
terribly, but don’t let that cost you your focus.”
The wooden practice sword made a soft swishing sound as I
flicked my wrist. “What started the war?”
His eyes widened at my question. “You know,” he said
cautiously. “Why are you asking me?”
My eyes met his. “I’ve heard that she was assassinated by
the Fallen. But what happened- exactly?”
He sighed. “Wren, you need to focus on your training.
Why go through all this?”
I took a jab at him and he easily brushed me aside. “I
need a reason.” My voice sounded dead, even to my own ears. “One of the
biggest reasons my father hates the Fallen is because they killed his wife.”
Yates sighed. “No one knows exactly what happened.” His
eyes looked tired. “I found her in the garden. Her throat was slit. For some
reason she had been unable to heal the wound. The whole area reeked of Fallen
magic.”
He made a vicious slash at me and I danced back,
blocking him in the nick of time. “And we retaliated?”
He gave a short laugh. “No one who knew Alise will rest
until the Fallen emperor himself is dead.” He circled me, looking for a weak
spot. “She was a wonderfully kind woman- sweet and beautiful, and smart as a
whip- nothing like you.” He struck like lightning, knocking my sword from my
hand and spinning to ram the blunt tip of the wood into my stomach, knocking
the air out of me.
I doubled over and he laughed. “Is that all it takes?
And you call yourself a wolf. Your mother would be ashamed.”
He turned to head back to the weapons table and I rushed him.
Leaping, I wrapped my arm around his throat and clung to his back. He swiveled
his sword and made to stab me in the ribs, but I had already pulled my pistol
from my belt, and it rested at his temple. “Why?” I asked softly. “I said I
needed a reason. I don’t think you understood my question. Why did they kill
her?”
He dropped his sword and held up his hands in surrender.
“Because they’re monsters. Do they need a reason for anything they do? Why do
they feed on humans and destroy everything in their path?”
He elbowed me hard in the ribs, breaking my hold on him so
that he could flip me over his shoulder. I landed on my back. It knocked the
wind out of me, making me see stars. “You don’t need to know why. You only
need to kill them before they kill you.” Then he pointed my pistol at my
forehead and squeezed the trigger.
It clicked on an empty chamber and he looked
disappointed. “Looks like you live this time.”
I stared at him in stunned silence. There was no way he
could have know for sure that gun wasn’t loaded. He tossed the pistol to the
ground and went to prod the other recruits, his voice cold and strident.
Anger followed the rush of fear as I pushed myself to my
feet and went to retrieve my gun. Slipping it into its holster, I vowed that I
would never trust the general on the battlefield. I had the feeling I might
accidentally end up dead.
T
he
dark-haired man stood before the tidy row of headstones, his wide shoulders
hunched. Weak, watery sunshine touched the glossy feathers of his huge, ebony
wings. He knelt in front of the middle headstone, his knee resting on the
petals that fell from the cherry tree growing behind the graves. His hand
stroked the mound of fresh turned earth in front of the stone to his right.
His other hand touched the thick creeping phlox that sprawled over the older
grave to his left.
A soft breeze ruffled his shiny black hair- like the touch
of a mother, or a father, or an older brother- and he tilted his head back,
eyes closed against the weak sun.
I
rubbed the top of my foot on the back of my leg as I waited outside the little
shop. A group of young soldiers was clustered around the counter, giving Logan
some good-natured ribbing. Logan was easygoing and friendly and he seemed to
get along with everyone. He just laughed it off and gave as good as he got.
I hesitated outside. I hated to ruin his fun, but I
needed to get the sheath for my short sword repaired, and Logan was the best
leatherworker in town. Alchemists couldn’t form leather, since that was made
from a living creature, but Logan was extremely talented in making the
chemicals and treatments needed to cure and condition the leather.
The playfulness slowly subsided into talk of battle. The
men were still young enough to be excited about fighting. I’d spent a lot of
time around General Maddox and the other seasoned warriors. I knew their
excitement would eventually fade, and their bright eyes grow cynical.
One of the young soldiers launched into a story his father
had told him about how he had narrowly escaped a death at the hands of a Fallen
on the battlefield.
“Lopped his wing clean off,” the man said in hushed awe.
“That stopped him.” One of the other men laughed. Laughed. I pressed a hand
to my chest, over the spot where the soft feather lay hidden beneath my shirt.
I could just see Logan around the doorframe. His eyes
slid toward the door and away. “That’s enough of that,” he said amiably. “I’m
sick of hearing war talk. Don’t you thugs ever do anything else?” Again that
glance. Crap. He knew I was there. It was uncanny how he could do that.
I dropped my foot and squared my shoulders. Then I walked
through the open doorway. A brawny man with wheat colored hair-a bear, I think-
was having a fit of deep belly laughs over something Logan had just said. When
the men noticed me patiently waiting my turn at the counter, their laughter
died.
“Hello Wren, what do you need?” Logan tried to pretend
everything was normal. I handed him the piece of folded leather.
“I need this fixed.” I slipped a hand in my pocket and
handed him a blank check. “You can draw on our account.”
I could feel the men’s eyes on me as Logan unfolded the
sheath. “Oh, the strap’s just broken here. It won’t be hard to fix at all.”
His eyes met mine. “Sparring?”
I nodded. “I was too slow,” I hurried to explain. Logan
would be quick to launch into a tirade about how savage Winona was, and in this
company that wouldn’t win him any friends. He narrowed his brown eyes at me,
but didn’t comment.
I turned away from the counter. None of the men met my
eyes and no one spoke. I strode out the door and headed left down the sidewalk
toward the big house. I don’t know what made me do it, but some insane impulse
seized me and I slid into the shadows just outside the door. I closed my eyes as
the conversation resumed.
“How come you’re so nice to her?” The soldier sounded
truly perplexed.
Another one chimed in. “That red wolf is just strange-
nothing like the princess. You see the way she looks at us? I don’t think
I’ve ever seen her do anything but scowl.”
I could hear Logan moving around the shop. “She’s a
princess too, you know.”
One of the men scoffed. “Right.”
Logan ignored him. “You just don’t know her. Wren’s a
great girl. You don’t know how hard she works to fit in. She probably scowls
because she has to put up with you morons all day.” I heard him thumping
around behind the counter. “She’s perfectly nice to me.”
Someone snorted. “You sure it’s not just that you have a
thing for redheads?”
“Go on. Get lost. I have work to do.” Logan shooed them
out the back entrance.
I waited until their heavy footsteps departed before I
peeked back into the shop. Logan was measuring a strip of leather for my
sheath. “You don’t need to defend me,” I said softly.
“Mmm…” He kept his eyes glued on his work as he made sure
the new length matched the old exactly. “And you don’t need to try so hard to
alienate yourself. I think you like being an outcast.”
I crossed my arms and glared. “What would you know about
it?” It came so naturally to him, fitting in. He wasn’t even a full-blooded
wolf and still he had no trouble being accepted.
He sighed and looked up at me. “You’re right. I don’t
know why I said that. Listen, they’re just intimidated by you, that’s all. If
they knew what a nice girl you are, they’d be shocked.”
I sighed. “Cut the bullshit Logan. The truth is, no
matter how hard I try, I’ll never fit in.” I turned and headed out the door.
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve got more important things to
worry about.” I tossed a glance over my shoulder. “I’ll be back for that tomorrow;
I’ll need it when I go out to the field.”
I could feel Logan’s discomfort. “You’re spending a lot
of time out there just recently.”
I nodded, not looking back at him. I had been in three
skirmishes in the last two weeks, shadowing the generals and honing my skills.
“It will be my place soon,” I said firmly. “I need to make sure I’m up to it.”
“Girls shouldn’t have to be involved in these things.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, most of them aren’t. I’ll
be back for the sheath tomorrow morning.” I left for real this time.
I watched people out of the corners of my eyes on my way
back home. A group of girls was gathered in the ice cream parlor, giggling and
sipping shakes. I felt their eyes on me as I strode past, felt the sharp
contrast between me in my leather pants and short-sleeved shirt, my under
bodice cinched tight and a pistol strapped to my hip, and them with their lightweight
spring dresses and Victorian lace.
My boots thumped faster on the concrete as I passed a
group of men in brocade vests and cravats. I met one man’s eyes and he hastily
looked away. I sighed and tried to recall the strategy I’d worked out with General
Maddox. We would likely engage the fallen tomorrow evening outside a small
human town on the outskirts of our western border. If we didn’t protect them,
the Fallen would advance on the defenseless humans and drain them of their
spirit energy, leaving nothing but empty corpses.
I thought of the girls in their spring dresses and
wondered what it would be like to be ignorant of things like cruelty, rape,
murder, death, and destruction. Even if I were to walk away from my life
forever, I still wouldn’t be able to fit in. The memory of the things I had
seen, even at this age, would be like an invisible wall between us. Something
they could never understand.
Winona was waiting for me when I got back, her mouth
compressed to a thin line. “I hope you had fun socializing.” She said
sarcastically. “My dagger needs to be sharpened, and I’ll need your strategy
notes for tomorrow, so I can review them.”
I sighed and held out my hand for the dagger. “I’m just
going up to finish my notes now.” It was my responsibility to draw up the
battle plans, and Winona’s to accept, reject, or change them - just as if she
were queen and I was her general of war- before Maddox had a final look.
I took the stairs two at a time, longing for the solitary
shelter of my room, and the quiet companionship of my maps and charts.
Plopping down at my desk, I pulled out a whetstone and began to hone the shiny
dagger as I glanced at the map that lay spread out before me. I was absorbed
in my contemplation of landmarks when I was seized with the sudden,
overwhelming urge to cry. I stared at the map, not seeing it as emotions
crashed over me. I felt shock, and that creeping feeling of dread that comes
when you know something horrible has happened, but you don’t want to
acknowledge it. I jumped when I sliced my finger on the blade.
“Well, its sharp now, genius,” I muttered to myself. The
surge of emotion left as quickly as it had come, and I sucked on the offended
digit until the little cut healed, examining the blade. The dagger had been
our mother’s, and it was beautiful- something a beloved queen would own. The
narrow blade boasted a sharp prong on each side of the hilt to protect the
hand, managing to look both deadly and delicate next to the pearlescent
moonstone inlay that would rest in the palm when you held it.
I withdrew my finger from my mouth. My hand wrapped
around the hilt of the dagger. The stone warmed to my body temperature and I
smiled, thinking of my mother holding the weapon. I gently set it aside as I
returned my attention to the map. Not only did I have to figure out my own
strategy, but I had to figure out what Winona would do- in essence planning
around her. She wouldn’t accept my initial plan, so I would make that one a
fake, adding in the pieces I really wanted after each revision. I shook off
the last lingering feelings of unease about my little emotional outburst. Tomorrow
was going to be a long day.