Kirstin’s cheeks were dark as she dropped her head, but Danika knew her well enough to recognize it as anger not embarrassment. She swept a gaze around the table, breathing Lull to false security directly at each woman, aware that Kirstin would hear it each time. The reemphasis couldn’t hurt. From the outside, it would seem that she was demanding compliance with her call to be model prisoners and as she was, in a way, she had no fear of discovery.
The sound of trumpets filled the room. Danika barely stopped herself from searching for speakers in the ceiling and kicked Kirstin under the table when her chin started to rise. Credit where credit was due, Kirstin wasn’t stupid and she followed Danika’s lead, searching around for the source of the noise rather than up.
No need to let their watchers know they’d found the speakers in their rooms.
The guards snapped to attention.
Danika had seen more military reviews over the last year than in the rest of her life combined, but she’d never seen anyone come to attention with such fervent precision.
High on the inside wall, a double section of wallboard swung open to lie flat, exposing a small chamber lined in flowing panels of Imperial purple fabric. The chamber contained only a single high-backed chair positioned close enough to the edge of the wall that when the man sitting in it shifted his foot where it was resting on what looked like a roll of carpet, the toe of one highly polished boot jutted out into the room. Above the boots, he wore cream-colored pantaloons, and a dark coat cut in a military style, gold cord looped over and around one shoulder, gold buttons gleaming. He wasn’t a large man, but, as far as the angle allowed, Danika thought he filled out both pantaloons and coat without resorting to padding. He had thick brown hair, eyes so blue they seemed mage marked, and his full lips were surprisingly red against his pale skin. His age was common knowledge, even in Aydori, and he looked to be a full decade younger than his thirty-four years.
One last flurry of trumpets, then: “His Imperial Majesty, Leopald. By the light of the Sun and the strength of his people, Exalted Ruler of the Kresentian Empire, Commander in Truth of the Imperial army, Supreme Protector of the Holy Church of the One True Sun.”
That was new. The Prelate had always been the Church of the Sun’s highest office.
Smiling, eyes shining, Leopald leaned forward. “I know, the sixth mage hasn’t arrived yet, has she, but I couldn’t wait. I needed to see you. You’ll just have to tell her everything when she arrives tomorrow, or the next day at the latest. You know how Soothsayers are. It’s so hard to get an exact time out of them.”
Danika was reminded how professors sounded when students they were mentoring did something clever. Friendly and proprietary sounded dangerously similar. And she still had no idea who this sixth mage could be. For all his smiles, she very much doubted Leopald would tell her if she asked.
“It’s unfortunate that you’re not all capable of understanding Imperial, but I’m sure that those of you who are will explain to the rest when I’m done. You’re fascinating, all of you, actual high-level mages, and I wish I could trust you enough to discover what you’re capable of, as our records concerning mages could definitely use updating, but, regretfully, no.” He sounded as though he did honestly regret the lost opportunity for study. “Let me explain why you’re here. When wild and mage together come, one in six or six in one. Empires rise or empires fall, the unborn child begins it all. Soothsayers, obviously.” His smile was a friendly request to share a common reaction to such ridiculous poetry. “There were also a lot of numbers, eventually determined to refer to time and location, but that needn’t concern you. The prophecy suggests that one of your offspring will bring the empire down, so, for purely nationalistic reasons, I should have you killed before you whelp. Now, I would honestly hate to have to do that because that same prophecy also suggests that one of your offspring will make the empire greater than it is. That interpretation argues for your lives. As it happens…” Sitting back, he crossed his feet at the ankle, leaving them still propped on the rolled carpet. “…one doesn’t rule the world’s greatest empire by leaving things to chance, does one? If I control the offspring of the prophecy, I control the effect they have on the empire. It’s simple really. If your offspring is a beast, it will be a favored pet and trained to kill at my command. Eventually, if things go well, I’ll have the last of the abominations under my control. If your offspring is a mage, it will learn to use its powers to my benefit. They’ll live useful lives, unable to move against me or the empire.” Leopald had a strong, reassuring voice. He spoke as though what he said was so obviously inarguable that any reasonable person would have to agree with him. “But what of you, the bearers of these offspring? Neutered as you are by ancient technology, you’ll live quietly here until your offspring are whelped. Fed. Exercised. Kept clean. All your needs seen to. However, a bitch can whelp in any kennel and, as you’ve discovered, there are less pleasant places prepared for you.” Still smiling, he uncrossed his legs and kicked the roll of carpet at his feet.
No. Not a carpet.
A wolf’s head and front paws flopped down over the wall.
No. Not a wolf.
“I was amazed by how long he lived, even given the silver knives. He changed twice after they had the skin off him, you know, and then continued to twitch for some time.”
Danika could hear Kirstin and Jesine throwing up. Stina’s heavy breathing. Annalyse sobbing. But she was Alpha. She straightened her back, clenched her teeth, and swore that Leopald would die before any of the children were born.
The smell of cooking meat pulled Mirian up out of a dream of flying. She opened her eyes, blinked several times to little effect, and finally had to grind the heels of her hands against the lids to bring the rock overhead into focus. Rolling onto her side, she peered out of the overhang at a brilliantly sunny day, at the ground beyond that rose and fell in such a random pattern it looked as though it had been stirred by a giant hand, and—although she had to squint to bring it into focus—in the shelter of a flat rock rising nearly half her height into the sky, at a smokeless fire with a carcass roasting over it on a skewer of green wood.
Her mouth watered. She threw off the blanket, crawled two steps toward the food, realized she was naked, and dragged the blanket back over herself again. Cheeks hot, she vaguely remembered wet clothes being removed and a warm body pressed tight to keep her from freezing. The memory of the body flipped between fur and skin.
“Tomas?”
He was there so fast he must have been just out of sight. Toenails skidding against the rock, he bowled her over and then pushed his cold, wet nose against every bit of exposed skin he could find, as though he’d forgotten what she smelled like.
Giggling—cold and wet tickled—Mirian grabbed two handfuls of fur and dragged his head up so she could see his face. “I’m fine. Really. Except that you’re heavy!” Releasing her grip and stroking the fur smooth, she added, “How late is it?”
Tomas’ body rippled, changed, his forearms pushing up under her shoulders, his weight on his elbows just under her armpits. He stared down at her, eyes wild. “Two days. You were asleep for over two days.”
“No…”
“Yes.” He dropped his head and sniffed a bit frantically along the edge of her ear. “I couldn’t wake you. I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to make sure the search parties weren’t on our trail. The Imperials can’t track for shit, and this area’s never been hunted so there’s lots of small game, but you wouldn’t wake up.” He growled the last bit with his mouth against her shoulder, and Mirian shivered although she wasn’t at all cold.