Sons of Destiny Prequel Series 003 - The Shifter (25 page)

A shift and a flutter launched him back into the sky. Mindful of predators, Kenyen hurried down the valley, flying at an angle to the Nespah Valley in case the dog-shifter was looking for anything suspicious outside. Magpies weren't long-distance fliers, but they were agile enough that he could duck into the trees whenever he passed a bit of forest or an orchard. Detouring back toward the valley, he mulled over the choices as he flew.

The best time to effect a rescue would be during a heavy rain, since that would wash away smells
, he knew.
The best time would also be right after lulling the Mongrels into complacency, disarming them with the scent of success. So I should start hanging around the smithy. I'll go see Ysander after I get back, then. I can pretend it's a roundabout way to check up on Solyn without disturbing her and her mother's healing work—oh, I should check up on little Luelyn, too
.

He did care for Solyn's family. They were as nice as Solyn herself, so it was easy to like them. It was a tiny bit harder with Traver's family, but not through any fault of theirs; guilt kept overshadowing his experiences with them.
But if I can extract Traver and get him to safety, then that guilt will ease. Which begs the question,
where
would be a place of safety?

Ideally, that would be in the arms of shifters he trusted. Men and women who wouldn't be taken by surprise in a shapeshift-enhanced attack. People who could literally smell friend from foe.
But I have no idea how far those paper birds can fly, or even if they've found their targets by now.

Hopefully that'll be before that storm she predicted hits—I can tell it's coming when I fly high, because the upper winds are so strong and cold, but I still can't see any sign of clouds—why didn't I learn to shape myself like an eagle, with an eagle's eyesight?

"Is he alright?" Solyn asked quietly, reaching up to pluck another dried herb off the lines overhead. She swayed on her toes and missed.

Kenyen—in Traver's body—steadied her, pressing one palm to her waist, and gently lifted the brittle spray of greenery from the string with his other hand. "For now, I think so. But well-guarded. We need a rainstorm and a diversion. And enough time to get him far enough away for the rain to disperse his scent. Do you think the birds have arrived by now?"

"They should have. But we can release more of them after the storm rolls through." For a moment, she thought her ring had squeezed. She peered at the doorway. In the sickroom beyond, one of the holding laborers from down near the bottom of the valley was resting, heavily sedated by painkilling possets. Barely whispering, she continued, "You say you want the scent to dissipate, but... um... what if his scent wasn't on the ground?"

Removing more of the herbs from the upper line, Kenyen laid them in the large basket on the preparation table. He took his cue from her, asking in a whisper, "Where else would it be? He can't exactly fly, you know."

Stepping away, Solyn ducked under the far end of the table and pulled out a gathering basket. Unlike the round, high-sided one with the dried herbs in it, this one was designed for gathering items with long stems. The handle was a large loop, and the basket itself was nothing more than a broad oval woven in a shallow curve, without even a lip. Both had been woven from willow withes and reed strips, but were two vastly different implements.

She presented it to him. "With this, he could." Kenyen gave her a skeptical look. She started to say more, to explain the spell she had in mind, but her ring squeezed. Quickly bringing her finger to her lips, she returned the basket to its spot under the table. "Thank you again for rewrapping the cheeses without me, today. And for being willing to help me with my chores in here."

Kenyen accepted the change in topic. "I do enjoy being with you. Despite not having all my old memories back, I'm very much enjoying the woman you are. I enjoy the memories I
do
still have of you... and I'm enjoying the new memories I'm making with you."

She smiled at his words. There was plenty of sincerity behind them, particularly the ones generic enough, he could speak them from the heart, rather than as the deception of being Traver Ys Ten. "As you said, you're seeing me through fresh eyes? Is that it?"

He pulled her close, murmuring in Traver's voice and with Traver's face the words that came from his own heart. "Face-to-face, mind to mind... every day I spend with you, I keep finding new things to appreciate about you, Solyn Ys Rei."

The words, she knew, came from the real man. Not wanting to see them spoken with her best friend's face, she rested her cheek on his chest, listening to him speak.

"If that's not with fresh eyes, I don't know what would be. If that's not a deepening of my... my love for you, I don't know what could be." The words were half-truth, half deliberate seduction. Kenyen hated the latter half, but knew their unseen audience needed to hear them, just in case they were the sort to gossip and let word get back to the shifting ears of Family Mongrel.

A masculine voice, deep and firm, interrupted them. "If you don't get yourselves to the priest soon, I
do
know what
will
be. And
no
twining in your mother's herb-room, young lady. Behave yourself, young man."

Blushing, Solyn pulled back from Kenyen's embrace. He let her go with a soft clearing of his throat. Politely facing her father, Kenyen dipped his head. "Milord."

"So formal," Ysander mocked lightly, looking large, tanned, and imposing with his skepticism pinching his dark brows. "Particularly when you had my unwed daughter in your arms a moment ago, in my own house—I do thank you for your help in the smithy, earlier. But that's not your normal thing. What do you
really
want from my family?"

Both of them stilled. Solyn bit back a protest. Whatever she said, she knew her father would interpret it through the clouded thoughts of a woman in love, not the clearheaded one she actually was. She looked at Kenyen, who subtly squared his shoulders.

"To protect your family. To share with you and provide for you. To work with you and work beside you," he stated. "To continue to... to play with and work with and learn with and... and love with your daughter. If you have a problem with that," Kenyen stated quietly, taking Solyn's hand in his, "well, I suggest you learn to live with it. As much as she has been your daughter for most of her life, she is a woman grown and has her own life to live. The decision of what I will
get
from this family therefore rests entirely with
her
."

"Tellik is right," Ysander muttered, eyeing the younger man. "You
have
changed. Matured, in some ways."

"Sometimes a man does," Kenyen agreed. "I spent a full day at the bottom of that ravine, barely able to remember my own name. I had plenty of time to try to remember all the things that
are
important."

Solyn's father grunted softly. He lifted his chin at the basket. "Get those herbs sorted and sealed in a jar. Your mother wants you to check on and change Maullin's bandages."

"Yes, Father," Solyn agreed, releasing Kenyen's hand so she could turn back to the table.

"Are you staying for supper?" the blacksmith asked Kenyen, not looking entirely friendly.

"I would like to," Kenyen replied calmly. "But if you do not wish it, I can return home."

Ysander grunted. Solyn sighed and turned back just enough to roll her eyes at him. "Father..."

He grunted again. "You can stay. But no twining in here. You aren't married yet."

"No, milord," Kenyen murmured, feeling a twinge of guilt for the kisses they had shared already, even if they had taken place elsewhere under full, mutual consent.

The rains came when they were over halfway to the old mining cave. At first it was a light sprinkle, but by the time they reached the trees sheltering the entrance, the clouds were pouring down. Soaked to the skin even under the canopy of leaves, Kenyen and Solyn ran the last hundred lengths. Once inside, they dripped and shivered, for even the wind dug at the mouth of the cave, stirring the air.

Kenyen peered out at the pounding the leaves were taking. "This is awful! It's going to flatten the wheat in the fields!"

Solyn gave him a puzzled look, then chuckled. "If we were using a lowland grain, yes. But we bred a short, stiff-stalked variety generations ago. It's better suited for terrace farming, for withstanding the winds that whip around the hills, and the heavy rains of the last midsummer storms that strike the mountains. We're more in danger of the root vegetables rotting in the ground, if the terraces aren't set to drain just right."

Her mentioning that made him acutely aware they were near the very bottom of the ravine-like slope. "What about flooding? Are we safe in here?"

She rolled her eyes. Her ring had spun in the middle of the sprint for cover, so she used his true name. "Kenyen, we're at the
upper
end of the valley? Even in the worst of storms, the water will never flood this high. Down by the copper mines, yes, it's always a big concern. But they have bags of clay down there and Callan Tre Fin is a good owner; I already spread word the storm was coming, so his workers are all out by now and the entrances have been blocked up to keep the mines dry."

Hearing his real name, Kenyen took it as the cue to relax his features. "Well, at least no one else would be idiotic enough to come this far in a storm this bad, so we should be safe for a while."

"Safe, but soaking wet." She wrinkled her nose. "And we can't light a fire. Greenvein cheese tastes terrible when it's been smoked."

"If we move back into the depths, we'll be out of the wind," he offered.

"True, and we can strip off our wet clothes and wring them out." She held up the oilcloth sack slung over her shoulder. It was fuller than her usual collection of luncheon food alone would imply. "I came prepared with a blanket and some extra food, in case the storm trapped us here." She paused, the implications hitting her. A blush warmed her cheeks. "Um... there's only the
one
blanket, so... I suppose you could borrow it first, until your clothing dries."

Kenyen chuckled. "I'm a gentleman as well as a shifter.
You
may use the blanket. Go on back and get wrapped up in it. Let me know when it's safe to come back there."

Nodding, she lit the first lamp near the entrance with a whisper of power. Kenyen sneezed. Solyn grinned. "I'll cut a few slices of greenvein while I'm at it."

He followed her a short distance back, far enough that the wind no longer chilled him, then stopped and waited. As soon as she was out of sight—and two sneezes later—he stripped off Traver's wet clothes. Coating his body from waist to knees in black magpie feathers for modesty, he wrung out the garments as best he could and waited.

Finally, her voice echoed up the tunnel. "... I'm decent! Well, sort of decent. It's a good thing we're supposedly betrothed!"

Grinning, he padded deeper into the tunnel, sandals in one hand and clothes slung over the other shoulder. He found her draped in a creamy, soft-spun blanket that she'd knotted over one shoulder and belted around the waist for modesty. It barely reached her knees, though.

Her calves were magnificent, muscular and curvaceous thanks to the constant uphill-downhill travel of life here in the mountains. Around one lovely ankle, she had fastened the braided bit of leather, with its rune-carved beads meant to prevent unwanted conceptions. As he watched, she stretched up, spreading out her skirt a bit more on a section of storage shelves covered in wax-preserved rounds, then turned.

Her mouth dropped open, and her hand clapped over it. Slightly self-conscious, but only slightly, Kenyen spread his clothes—Traver's clothes—along another set of empty shelves, and waited for her to get used to the sight of him in his shifter-style modesty.

"Are... are those
feathers
?" she finally asked, lowering her palm. Her gaze remained fastened on his hips.

"Of course. This is what the Shifterai do—well, mostly the men," he amended, explaining. "We can't shapechange our clothing or our gear when we change our bodies, so when we strip, we shift what's called a modesty pelt. The princesses—the female shifters—cover themselves from chest to knee, but this is what the men do. It's one of the first controlled shapeshifts we learn, beyond our initial shape."

The matter-of-fact way he treated his near-nakedness helped. Getting over most of her shock, Solyn nodded. "... I've heard there are spells which simulate the same thing, but I haven't found any books describing how that works. Not yet. What... what does that
feel
like?"

Turning sideways, Kenyen offered her his hip. Her curiosity was like anyone who had never seen a Shifterai shapeshift feathers before. "Touch it for yourself."

"I meant to
make
the feathers," Solyn retorted, blushing. She started to say more, but curiosity pulled her closer. Hesitantly, she lifted her hand. At his nod, she touched his hip, then stroked the feathers coating his flanks. "Ohhh, that
is
soft. The only birds I've touched are chickens meant to be plucked for cooking—most of my books have stressed that mages aren't supposed to take lives, in case we're ever tempted to take the life energy released at death. I never have been," she admitted, still petting him gently. "The most I'll do is crack open an egg, but then I'm careful about avoiding temptation."