Chapter 41
Anya Delemond
After two hours of clamping her eyes shut, the stomach-flipping sensation of flight finally ended with two behemoth-sized thuds.
“You can open your eyes now,” Roderick whispered, rubbing his cheek on hers. The gesture meant the world to her. He was showing her affection in the way she needed. Whether it came naturally, or he remembered from when she rubbed her cheek on him, both made her giddy in a most girlish way.
Anya peeled her eyes open as she extracted her claws from Roderick’s abdomen, feeling a rush of breath as he inhaled deeply.
He slid down Isen’s shoulder, then helped Anya down.
Finally on sweet, sweet ground, she stretched, still feeling a strangely satisfying ache between her thighs that beckoned memories of the night before.
Roderick was, without a doubt, the most generous, patient lover she’d ever had.
He didn’t rest until she was a shivering, gasping mess of ecstasy beneath the stars she adored.
And in those intimate throes, she had no anxiety, no fear, no past or future.
They were just beating hearts in perfect time and tune with the chorus of nature around them.
Roderick rubbed a hand on his sternum. “Hoo…wow. You know ‘death grip’ isn’t literal, right?”
“You love it.” She stepped close, drawing a flirtatious claw up the exposed skin of his chest. Her voice became a sultry whisper, “At least, you weren’t complaining last night.”
She delighted in the color blossoming on his rough cheeks. “No. No, I wasn’t.” He countered her flirting with, “And I won’t tonight either. But first, we have work to do.”
Anya sighed. “Right.”
They had landed in a thick scarf of pine trees at the base of a crumbling mountain.
Boulders and glaciers littered the woods around them like they’d rained down from the heavens.
But if they were followed, the rough terrain would serve them well.
Henrik had probably heard them speak about heading to Solenergi.
Leaving their scaly, attention-grabbing companions to wait in the woods, Roderick and Anya talked and hiked down the mountain.
“So, how do we send the message without the entire cavalry waiting to ambush us when we go to check for a reply?” Roderick asked, giving Anya a hand down a particularly steep stretch.
“Simple,” she said the word through gritted teeth as she focused on keeping her balance. A few rocks and pebbles scrabbled down the mountainside. “We hire someone to do it for us, then wait in the wings and see what they do.”
And she knew just where they would find someone with low enough inhibitions, and in a high enough need for coin: the tavern.
Their plan was well rounded by the time the city came into view past the fog.
They stopped to observe the city at every outcrop.
Solenergi was ten times the size of Eteross, ringed by tall stone walls, containing homes, shops, markets and two large squares, conjoined by a towering castle at the center.
A mighty river wound through the middle of the city, connecting in an arc before disappearing between the mountain ridges.
The castle was traditional cold stone masonry, with spires jutting into the sky in an array of heights.
Barred windows aggressively cut through any light trying to eke out.
There was a sheen to the stonework, almost shiny like ice.
As they made their final descent, Anya spotted two sentries posted at the wrought iron gate and drawbridge. She shifted into her wolf form, trotting alongside Roderick.
“What, are two legs too much work, Princess?” he teased.
She huffed. No. But they’re probably looking for a woman with wolf eyes and claws, not a regular wolf. I’m nothing special here.
“Ah. Yes. Excellent point.” With a grunt, Roderick’s fangs sank back into his gums. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he drew his cloak over his head, shadowing his features.
“Solenergi is on lock down. State your business,” one guard said to the group of Elves ahead of them. Anya was relieved he hadn’t asked for identification papers. If there wasn’t anything like that here at the capital, it must not exist in Aquillas. This could be easier than she thought.
A tall, red-haired Elf spoke up. “We’re heading to the Tower of Mages,” she said, presenting a scroll. The other two Elves with her fished out similar scrolls.
The sentry scrutinized the first one. “And your course of study?”
“Mana mechanics,” she answered. The guard looked at the other two, who answered in turn.
“Defensive magic.”
“Enchantments.”
The sentry nodded, his voice becoming noticeably lighter. “All right. Go on through.”
Chattering excitedly, the trio proceeded into the city, disappearing into the bustling crowds just beyond the gate.
All pleasantry dropped from the sentry’s face as he surveyed Anya and Roderick, repeating the same droll. “Solenergi is on lock down. State your business. And you”—he pointed at Anya—“will need to shift so I can see your face.”
Anya was about to give her best shot at pretending to be a regular dog before Roderick said, “Urgent treatment for my mate here.” His voice was even and calm. Anya forced herself not to look up at him in surprise.
“Treatment?” The sentry lifted a skeptical brow.
Roderick looked between the sentries and leaned in. “She has fleas. Our town’s healer is out of tonic. I’m afraid if she shifts, it could transmit to all of us.”
Both men took a step back. Anya sat and kicked at her ear in a scratching frenzy.
“Will my identity be enough, gentlemen?” he said with a confident smile.
The sentries murmured between each other. Roderick probably couldn’t hear, but Anya caught the hardest syllables, filling in the gaps by reading their lips.
“He…looks…”
“But they said she…wolf eyes…claws…human…”
“Nonsense anyway…Henrik…thinks…”
The first guard nodded hurriedly, stepping even further back. “Go ahead. But go straight to the herbalist.”
After a few more dramatic itches, Anya rose to all fours. We will, trust me. I can’t take much more of this, she whimpered to complete the pathetic show. Though she wasn’t sure they could understand her.
“Where to first?” Roderick whispered, slumping his head forward to be a little closer to her height as he spoke.
The guard’s droning cadence faded behind them as they passed under the inner portcullis and into the crowds.
Weres and Elves filtered in and out of the colorful shops, so unlike the cold castle that loomed above.
New smells rushed into Anya’s senses: cut flowers and hops, stewed berries.
She even relished the more mundane: iron, hay, burning coal.
After the past few days, it was plain to see that, at its heart, Aquillas and Valeria were one and the same.
From the sprinkling of magic throughout the streets in the form of banners hovering, an Elf playing a trio of instruments by himself, and even a tiny hippogriff chasing a stick that would throw itself after it was dropped, to the tiniest things, like the way the folk interacted with one another.
There were couples of every species and sex, and no one batted an eye.
But Valeria wasn’t always that way.
Anya had studied Valerian history more intensely than any other subject.
When the humans came, driven from their homeland by famine, they had appeared nigh empty-handed.
But famine could not kill culture. Over the years, they trapped farmers in cycles of inescapable poverty, the dukes warred against each other, frowned upon lovers of the same sex, even contracted their daughters into marriages for political or financial benefit.
And while the Weres, Elves, and Vampires of Valeria pushed back, the Aquillans didn’t wait around to see it.
Or help.
Now, such antiquated traditions were the minority among Valerians. They weren’t perfect, and maybe they never would be, but it was nothing worth closing off an entire kingdom to ward against. The influence of the Aquillans could be just the thing to wash away the remainder.
So she was going to show them exactly what kind of people they are.
No hiding.
No masks.
“We need masks,” Roderick said.
Anya stared up at the job board just inside the doors of the Pudgy Seagull tavern. Patrons clamored around them, with the dinner rush in full swing. Tap after tap of wooden flagons and the gentle hiss of foaming ale filled her ears.
Two posters were nailed up side by side: