Chapter Three #2
“He is strong, this one, but—” he pauses, the quiet so thin you could hear the fall of a feather.
Then a faint tick at the corner of the Sar Dyēus’s mouth.
A smile? “He is strong-willed, too. We welcome this new shifter into our midst.” The Sar Dyēus turns, placing the child in Thrace’s arms. By the grand smile gracing Thrace’s strong, handsome face, he’s thrilled.
Of course he is—he’s proved to the hoard he’s capable of producing one of their own.
Whatever status he has will only grow stronger from here.
In my arms, Kalixta begins to shake, her hands balled into fists, pressing into her chest.
“Peace and security has been granted to these new lives,” Selnor announces. “Now, to the skies.”
My sister blinks, looking from where Thrace holds her child, back to the Sar Dyēus. In a flash her face changes, panic swelling. “No. No—please. Not yet.”
“Be still, Kalixta,” my mother hushes, tugging her back by the shoulder.
The Sar Dyēus looks at my sister with a soft expression. “You have done well. As is custom, you’ll visit him when Thrace calls for you.”
“Only until he’s three,” I hiss. The quiet words leave me so fast that I don’t have time to think to stop them. Kalixta hears me and her fingers find my wrist. My mother hears me and snaps her head to me, aghast. And the whole elite hoard hears me, too.
Alixor’s tan face pales. The Sar Dyēus tilts his head, a piece of his perfectly swept-back hair falling to the side with the motion.
“Indeed. By then he will have had his first shift. Any distractions would be dire for him, and those around him. You would not wish harm to befall your nephew? Your sister? Now would you…” he pauses, his mouth forming a word, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say my name, as if he knows it, but then he turns his head vaguely in Alixor’s direction. “What is her name?”
“Kaisa,” Alixor provides, but his voice comes out clipped. Tense.
“Kaisa,” the Sar Dyēus sighs. I have to physically force myself not to shiver at the sound of my name on his lips.
“Above all, it is my duty to keep your people safe. I will not let harm befall your sister. See that you behave yourself.” Beside me, Kalixta tenses, and my eyes brim hot with anger.
He straightens his head, once again becoming the great, unruffled leader, his attention finally drifting from me to his hoard. “Let us depart.”
Together the hoard stamps their left foot, then their right, looking for the world like tantruming children.
As one, the hoard turns, exiting the great hall and marching up the ramp that leads outside.
Kalixta watches Thrace leave with her son, chest rising and falling quickly as if she ran across the whole of the Sere.
My mother whispers to her, lifting the girl child towards her arms, trying to remind her of the living, breathing thing before her.
Many women follow to bear witness to the new shifter child ascend to the sky kingdom.
The mother is traditionally encouraged to stay inside while the hoard departs with the male.
I suspect it’s so they don’t have to hear her heartbreak.
I press a hard kiss to Kalixta’s temple, once, twice, and follow the hoard out.
Perhaps it makes me a coward, too, but I cannot stand to watch her suffering right now.
I will return for her, but now—now there is nothing to do except witness her child being taken.
The realization will set in for her later, and when she rages, when she cries, when she’s broken and struggling to pick up the pieces—that’s when I’ll be there.
Either way, I don’t have a choice in the matter. I go because I am carremai to one of the hoard. I fall into step beside Alixor, doing my duty to accompany him as he makes his leave. He takes me by the arm. I close my eyes, tamping down the rage roiling in my chest.
Outside, the day is clear and bright, filled with the song of a soft wind. Alixor leans in and places a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Was that you I saw riding back at the break of dawn?” he asks.
My heart slows. This dance with him I can handle. It is familiar and methodic and predictable. Controllable. “Well, you know me,” I offer. He doesn’t, of course. Only the parts I’ve allowed him to know. He preens with pride.
“Who was with you?”
Having grown up with my mother, I know displeasure in a tone when I hear it, so I assume his question comes from a place of curiosity.
He’s not shown me anything but respect, admiration, and certainly desire.
If I was a woman who wanted to breed with one of the shifters of Dyēus, I’d be happy to have a dragon such as Alixor choose me as his carremai.
Unfortunately, I’m not. And, unfortunately for Alixor, he’s made the wrong choice in me.
“One of the other huntresses,” I say offhand, not wanting to speak with him about my closest friend. “We had a good opportunity and couldn’t pass it up.”
“You succeeded then?”
I twist my mouth to the side, attempting to hide my pleasure. “It’s a start to a good thing.”
“Well. They’ll have to continue on their own,” he says, stopping to cup my cheeks in his palms. “I think it’s time for you to come and stay for a while.”
I was expecting this, but I still feel a shock radiate through me. I hold myself still, fighting the urge to pull out of his grasp. “Today?”
“It certainly is as good a time as any.”
“But my sister,” I start to say as his hands trail down my face to my neck, his thumbs resting on my collar bones. “She needs me.”
“Then I shall come for you tomorrow.”
I shake my head, resisting the desire to step back. “I’ll need a week, I think.”
He leans in, whispering against my ear as his thumbs run delicate lines along my throat. “Surely you won’t have me wait quite that long? Seeing you with your sister’s children has me wanting.”
My heartbeat threatens to choke me, and I hate the small feeling of physical desire unfurl inside of me at his hands and his words.
He is attractive, and he’s been kind. We’ve done physically intimate things I’ve enjoyed, but I need those three days before anything further can happen consistently.
Despite everything I know about my cycle and when I’m most likely to conceive, once I’m in Dyēus for breeding, I won’t be able to deny him.
I need the three days. I need the contraceptive ready before I go anywhere. I take in a shuddering breath.
“I know you’re nervous, but seeing how well your sister did, I cannot wait a moment longer.” He stares into my eyes, and I bide my time, letting him hang on to the anticipation, letting him feel like he’s won something when I finally speak.
“Three days,” I say, my voice quiet. Meek. Then I add, “Please.”
He scans my face, gaze hot and hungry. “I can grant that, but I won’t much like the wait.”
I lean in, to him and to the physical desire, a feeling I’ve worked to my advantage to make sure he doesn’t suspect anything. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I trust that you will,” he murmurs in my ear.
I instinctively raise my shoulder to shrug off his closeness, but turn it into a coy gesture, looking away and over my shoulder. The Sar Dyēus is watching us—me. Again. I curse my bold actions earlier in the great hall. The last thing I need is the king of the skies giving me his notice.
“Three days,” Alixor says, drawing my eyes back to him. “Then I will come for you.” It is a promise and a sentence to a life I have no choice in living. He kisses my cheek once more, lips lingering against my skin before he moves away to join his father.
I find Thrace a little way past the others, and he nods at me to join him. He places the boy in my arms, and I hold him tight to me, a thought of darting away into the underground fortress coming and going within a blink.
“He’s safe with me,” Thrace assures.
“Kalixta seems to think so,” I say, placing my nose against the child’s head, inhaling in his newborn scent.
Thrace’s expression is soft as he watches me. “She’s a smart woman.”
“She is more than that,” I say, my tone a warning. I don’t welcome his vapid description of my sister to placate my feelings or hers, should he think I’ll run to tell her what he’s said.
“I know. For me, she is everything.”
I frown, looking for the lie in his face but find only sincerity.
Then the hoard begins shifting around us in a maelstrom of swirling vapor.
Men’s bodies settle into serpentine beasts with colorful manes and sharp claws and brutal teeth, the fans of their wings tucked tightly to their sides.
Thrace runs his thumb down his son’s cheek once more.
“Take care of her while you can,” he says, gaze flickering to somewhere over my shoulder.
“But I think I’ll be seeing you soon.” He steps back before he shifts, too.
In his dragon form, sitting back on his haunches, I come up to his shoulder, his height about twenty hands tall.
Another woman comes to Thrace, securing a linen cradle around his neck and shoulders like a harness so that the child will rest against his heart, the soft fabric protecting the baby’s delicate skin from the stone-hard scales.
When that’s done, she gestures for me to place the child inside.
After a beat, I carefully tuck him in, adjusting the cloth over his small frame.
Thrace holds one of his large taloned hands over the babe, creating a cage with his claws for additional security.
The sight does not soothe me. It enrages me more and more until I cannot breathe.
Without warning, or after some silent command among them, the hoard bursts skyward, their bodies twisting and twirling towards Dyēus. As I watch, the only thought in my head is how desperately I want to pull back arrow after arrow and shoot each one of them down to the ground.