Chapter Seven
Drannik’s plan wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Shaine had feared, but Shaine had doubts that his father would be able to sell his allies on the idea. To Shaine’s relief, Drannik wasn’t pushing for soldiers or invasions, but he did intend to convince the other Wytch Kings of the Northern Alliance that Shaine should undergo the dragon-shifter transformation.
Shaine peered at himself in the mirror as he brushed out his hair and tied it back. There was no hiding the dark circles under his eyes. Images of the carnage at Rinwyck had haunted his dreams, and he hadn’t slept well. Neither had Vorri. In fact, they’d spent most of the night shivering in each other’s arms.
Vorri came up behind him. “You’re very lucky, you know.” The wistful note in his voice caught at Shaine’s heart.
“Lucky?” He met Vorri’s eyes in the mirror. “What do you mean?”
“Mikhyal adores you. And worries about you. It was obvious at breakfast this morning. Couldn’t you see the conflict on his face? He’s so very proud of you, but at the same time, so afraid for you.”
Shaine had noticed nothing of the sort, only his older brother reminding him of everything he was supposed to say and do, until Shaine had suggested rather tartly that if Mikhyal didn’t trust him, perhaps Mikhyal ought to be the one being sent to Altan to speak to Garrik. “I know he cares about me,” he said. “But sometimes I wish he’d just… let me alone. Let me find my own way.”
Vorri gave him a rueful smile. “I wish my own brother cared even a tenth as much as yours does. He used to. Before the storm robbed him of his ability to shift. Once he realized the pack wouldn’t accept him as leader after our father…” He shook his head. “He barely acknowledges me, but I feel his resentment in the pack-sense so clearly.” Vorri sighed. “I miss him.”
A keen sense of loneliness seeped into Shaine’s awareness through the pack-sense. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, patting Vorri’s arm awkwardly and wishing he had something comforting to say. His mind was so full of anxiety over how angry Garrik was going to be about him leaving the way he had that he couldn’t think of a thing that might cheer Vorri.
“What is it you fear, Shaine?” Vorri asked suddenly.
Shaine turned back to the mirror and finished tying back his hair before he spoke. “I dread facing the Wytch Kings. I was the Wytch Council’s puppet for a year, spying on my father and his allies, working to destroy their efforts. None of them trust me. And disappearing from Altan right before the weddings like I did isn’t going to help matters. I’m afraid they won’t agree to the transformation. And if they don’t… I dare not accompany you. I can’t bear the thought of being taken over again. Of you thinking you could trust me, and then me betraying that trust. I… I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”
Vorri put a hand on his arm. “You think I wouldn’t know something was wrong? I sense your feelings very clearly.”
Shaine squeezed his eyes shut, and his face grew hot. Did Vorri sense all his feelings? Even the fascination and attraction that seemed to grow with every hour he spent in Vorri’s presence?
He cleared his throat. “Are you ready?”
Vorri gave him a faint smile and withdrew his hand. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, but perhaps we should go before we both lose our nerve.”
Shaine scooped up the letters Mikhyal had given him at breakfast. One was addressed to Tristin. No question what that contained; soppy poetry was Shaine’s guess. His normally sensible brother was quite besotted with his new husband. The other letter was for Wytch King Garrik, who was far too intimidating to have ever been besotted with anyone, detailing the events at Rinwyck.
He took a deep breath and reached for Vorri’s hand. Vorri had never been to Altan, so Shaine would be executing the Jump that would take them there. Vorri squeezed his hand, and Shaine closed his eyes and visualized the main room of Tristin and Mikhyal’s suite.
They were greeted by a gasp followed by the sound of shattering crockery. When Shaine opened his eyes, Tristin was staring at him with one hand clutched to his chest. At his feet lay the broken remains of a blue-and-white teapot.
“Aio’s teeth and tail, Shaine, where did you come from?” Tristin reached out a tentative hand to give Shaine a poke. “I’m not hallucinating, am I?”
Shaine flashed a quick grin at Vorri, then stepped over the shards of pottery to give his brother-in-law a hug. Tristin trembled in his arms, and Shaine hastened to reassure him. “It’s all right, Tristin, I’m quite real. I’m terribly sorry for frightening you. This is the only place in the castle I know well enough to Jump to.”
“J-Jump?” Tristin’s face was bone white as he pulled away from Shaine. He took one look at Vorri, paled even more, and bent to pick up the remains of the teapot. He’d barely started before Senn, Mikhyal’s valet, poked his head in, apparently summoned by the sound of breaking crockery. Senn shooed Tristin away and went to inform the guardsmen that someone would have to be summoned to tidy up the mess.
While Senn dealt with that, Tristin beckoned Shaine and Vorri into the sitting room.
“It’s rather a long story,” Shaine said, glancing pointedly in Senn’s direction. “Are you and Mikhyal here permanently, then?”
“For the moment at least,” Tristin said. “Senn arrived shortly after you disappeared, to help Mikhyal get ready for the wedding. But where have you been? And who is this? Does your father know you’ve returned?”
“Yes, Father knows. This is Vorri, but I’m afraid I can’t give you any more introduction than that at the moment. Vorri, this is Tristin, my brother-in-law. I promise I’ll introduce you properly later, but Father and Mikhyal said we weren’t to speak of it until we’d met with the Wytch Kings tomorrow.”
“Ah. You’re here for the Alliance meeting, then.” Tristin peered about, a hopeful expression on his thin face. “I don’t suppose you brought Mikhyal with you?”
“No, sorry, but he sent this.” Shaine handed Tristin the letter from Mikhyal. “We’re supposed to report directly to Wytch King Garrik. Any idea where we’d find him?”
“I had breakfast with him and Jaire not half an hour ago.” Tristin held the letter up to his nose and sniffed it, then flushed and lowered it to his side, fingers twitching. “They were planning to spend the day in Garrik’s study getting ready for the Alliance meeting.”
“Well, I suppose we’ll have to go and ask if they’ll see us, won’t we?” Shaine said. “I hope Father and Mikhyal said something helpful in their letter to Garrik, otherwise we’ll be cooling our heels in a reception room for most of the day.”
“Do you know the way?” Tristin asked.
“Not really,” Shaine said. “I, ah, didn’t spend much time here when I came for the wedding.”
“No, you didn’t,” Tristin said mildly.
Shaine flushed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. And I’m sorry if I spoiled it for you. I…” He trailed off, giving Vorri an anguished look. “I can’t explain now.”
“You didn’t spoil it any more than the attacks on the villages did,” Tristin said. “We’ve signed the papers, so all the northern kingdoms are bound together by marriage, but we’re holding off on the celebrations. It didn’t seem right, with people dying.”
“Mikhyal told me,” Shaine said quietly. “Vorri and I are hoping to put a stop to that, but that’s really all I can say.”
“Well. Come on, then,” Tristin said. “If you’ve a way to stop the killing, then we’d best get you in to see His Majesty immediately. And if your father’s letter isn’t enough, then I shall see to it he grants you an audience.”
* * *
Vorri wouldn’t have believed a man as frail and uncertain as Tristin would have much influence with someone as important as the Wytch King of Altan, but apparently, he did.
The guardsmen at the door of the Wytch King’s private study didn’t even raise an eyebrow when Tristin arrived with Shaine and Vorri in tow.
“Good morning, Willem. Brax.” Tristin nodded to the two men. “I suppose His Majesty doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
“You suppose right,” said the one called Brax.
“That’s a pity,” Tristin said mildly, “because I’m about to disturb him. Unless you’d care to stop me?”
Brax eyed Shaine and said, “His Majesty might not wish to be disturbed, but I work for His Highness, Prince Jaire, and he would very much like to be disturbed with any news of Prince Shaine. Which you apparently have, Your Highness.”
“Indeed,” Tristin murmured.
Brax nodded to Shaine and flashed him a quick grin. “Good to see you in one piece, Your Highness. We’ve been worried.”
Shaine returned the grin with a faint, nervous smile. “Thank you, Brax.”
Tristin rapped loudly on the door and pushed it open. Shaine followed him into the study, tugging Vorri along after him.
The Wytch King’s study was a warm, inviting room, full of comfortable looking furniture in dark, polished woods. A fire burned in the hearth, filling the room with a cheerful glow. A dozen heavily padded chairs surrounded the work table, four of which were currently occupied. A big, imposing man with fierce black eyes and a mane of thick, black hair sat at the head of the table. From Shaine’s whispered description on their walk through the halls of Castle Altan, Vorri gathered this was the Wytch King. To his right sat a slender young man with hair almost as pale as Vorri’s. Next to him was another black-haired man, and opposite him sat a man with hair of bright copper, similar to Shaine’s, though he looked nothing like Shaine.
The Wytch King shot Tristin an annoyed look. “I thought I gave orders that we weren’t to be disturbed, Cousin.”
“Ai. Um. Well. Yes, Brax might have mentioned that, but he also said there was some discrepancy between Jaire’s orders and yours. I took the liberty of deciding you didn’t actually mean you didn’t want to be disturbed if, for instance, the missing prince of Rhiva were to suddenly appear in the middle of my suite with information about the Wytch Council’s attacks on our villages. Um. Did you?”
“Shaine!” The pale-haired young man leapt to his feet and peered past Shaine to get a look at Vorri. “Who is—”
“Shaine of Rhiva.” The Wytch King rose and fixed glittering black eyes on Shaine. “Have you any idea how much time and effort has been spent trying to locate you?” His voice was a low growl, and it wasn’t until he stood that Vorri realized just how tall the man was.
“Ai, Your Majesty,” Shaine said meekly.
Vorri surreptitiously reached for Shaine’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Gently, Garrik,” said the copper-haired man. “If I know Mikhyal and Drannik, Shaine’s already had a strip or two removed from his hide. He hardly needs to go through it all again, and if he has information regarding the attacks, the less time wasted, the better.”
“He also has a companion with a most intriguing mythe-shadow,” the other black-haired man murmured, dark eyes fixing on Vorri intently.
Vorri flushed and shifted his weight, uncertain where to put his gaze.
“Well, you had better tell me, then,” the Wytch King said, settling back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. “And Tristin, I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to leave for the moment.”
“Ai, I will, but before I go, Shaine has a letter for you. From Mikhyal and Drannik, I believe. You should probably read it before you begin interrogating him.” Tristin patted Shaine on the shoulder and made his way to the door, pausing only to say, “Be gentle, Garrik.”
Bushy black eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl as the Wytch King regarded his cousin.
Shaine’s hand squeezed Vorri’s briefly before he let go and stepped forward to hand the letter to the Wytch King. Garrik broke the seal and pulled out the letter. He didn’t say a word as he read, but his eyebrows climbed higher and higher until they’d nearly disappeared under his hair. Finally, he handed the letter to the copper-haired man and fixed both Shaine and Vorri with glittering black eyes.
“The village of Rinwyck was attacked.”
“Ai, Your Majesty,” Shaine said.
“Mikhyal says they need no aid. Is that true?”
“Ai.” Shaine swallowed. “The village is less than an hour away from the castle. Father called in some of the palace troops to help with the cleanup. The outlying holdings weren’t touched, but in the village itself, there… there were no survivors.”
“I’m sorry for that,” the Wytch King said with a heavy sigh. “Mikhyal also says you have information on how we might stop these attacks, and that I should listen to you before I start shouting.” The pale-haired man snorted, and the Wytch King shot him a scowl before saying, “Tell me.”
So Shaine began to tell the story for the third time since they’d returned from Rinwyck yesterday morning.
Glad to have the attention off of himself, Vorri relaxed just a fraction. If he hadn’t been aware of Shaine in the pack-sense, he’d never have known how nervous he was. The years Shaine had been his father’s heir had served him well, and he spoke succinctly about his decision to seek out Stormshard and his reasons for not informing anyone. He spoke of being attacked by the wild rhyx, and of Vorri finding him and caring for him, making certain his listeners were pleasantly disposed toward Vorri.
The moment Shaine mentioned that Vorri’s grandfather was the leader of his people, all attention was back on Vorri.
“You should have told me immediately that we have a visiting dignitary,” the Wytch King growled.
Alarmed they might think he had the authority to speak for the pack, Vorri blurted out, “Please, Your Majesty, I’m not… I mean, I can’t…”
The pale-haired young man rose and came around the table to stand before Vorri. “Welcome, Vorri. I’m Prince Jaire of Altan, Garrik’s younger brother. Please, take a seat, both of you.” Once they were seated, the prince continued, “This is Wytch Master Ilya.” Jaire gestured to the copper-haired man. “He’s Garrik’s husband. And this is Prince Vayne of Irilan, who is our Dragon Master and my husband. Irilan is the kingdom directly to the east, across the River Lytha.”
Vorri nodded to each of the men as they were introduced.
“Now, before you finish your tale,” Jaire continued, “have you eaten? Is there anything you need?”
“No, thank you, Your Highness,” Vorri said. “Shaine and I took our breakfast with Wytch King Drannik and Prince Mikhyal at Castle Rhivana this morning.”
A stunned silence fell about the table.
Vorri glanced at Shaine. “Did I say something wrong?” he whispered.
“No,” Shaine replied, “but if you’ll remember, Jumping is not something we’re familiar with, and I hadn’t quite gotten to that part yet.”
“Jumping?” Prince Jaire’s eyes widened. “What’s that?”
Shaine explained what had happened at Stormshard, and how Vorri had taught him to Jump through the mythe, finishing with, “And I think I’ll let Vorri tell you the rest. He may be able to help us put a stop to the rhyx attacks, but he’s going to need our help to do it.”
Vorri flushed as he faced the Wytch King. He and Shaine had decided during their mostly sleepless night that it might be best for Vorri to speak of his pack’s nature and to ask for Garrik’s help, but now it was time to do so, he wished he hadn’t agreed quite so readily.
He started at the beginning, with the pack’s history. He told them of Lethrian’s desire to take the mythe-senses and Jumping ability of the rhyx and combine it with the more familiar form of the wolf, so as not to strike fear into the hearts of their comrades in Lethrian’s army. He spoke of Lethrian’s betrayal and murder and the pack’s flight to the valley, the creation of the shield that protected them from the harsh conditions in the Iceshards, and the mythe-storm ten years ago that had damaged the shield and trapped a number of his people in their rhyx forms.
Vorri finished his story with a summary of recent events, including the disappearance of two hunting parties, and his certainty that his brother and sister and the others had been at Rinwyck. “Your Wytch Council appears to be using my pack-mates to attack your villages,” he said. “I thought perhaps I could offer my services to you as a messenger in exchange for your assistance in freeing my kin.”
No one interrupted him, and when he was finished, the Wytch King and his advisors were all regarding him with great interest.
Prince Jaire was the first to speak. “I know this isn’t why you came to us, Vorri, but…” He turned to his husband. “Vayne, could you do anything for them? If the patterns in their mythe-shadows that allow them to shift were damaged by the storm, do you think you could repair them?”
Vorri blinked and stared at Prince Vayne, hardly daring to hope. “Is that… could you?”
Prince Vayne looked thoughtful. “I honestly don’t know. It should work, in theory. I’d have to examine the patterns of some of your healthy pack-mates, and then look at the damage done to the others, but… it’s certainly a possibility.”
“I cannot speak for the pack,” Vorri said slowly, “as I’m here without my grandfather’s permission or his knowledge. I have no power to negotiate with you, but if you think you can do this… I will be happy to carry a message back to our council of elders. They may be convinced to form an alliance with you, especially if you are offering to try to restore our damaged pack-mates.”
Beside him, Shaine stirred. “Any talk of an alliance will have to wait, though. In coming here, Vorri has disobeyed a direct order from his elders. Unless he can bring his pack-mates home with him, it’s unlikely that the council of elders will listen to him. He and I plan to seek out his kin and do what we can to free them. We originally thought to set out without telling anyone, but Mikhyal and my father were concerned that facing the Wytch Masters when I’m still vulnerable to being taken over would be a bad idea. They suggested we speak to you about allowing Prince Vayne to perform the transformation on me.”
Garrik nodded. “So your brother says in his letter.” He glanced at the others. “Shaine makes a convincing argument. If we can help Vorri’s pack, they may be willing to help us in return. And this Jumping ability… it may be the very thing we need to turn the tables on the Wytch Council.” His dark eyes fixed on Vorri again. “Very well. Shaine, Vorri, you will present your case to the Northern Alliance when we gather tomorrow. You have my support, and apparently Drannik’s, as well. We have only to convince Edrun and Ord. Prepare yourselves to speak to the representatives of the Northern Alliance tomorrow. Then we will see what can be done.”
* * *
Garrik had Shaine and Vorri escorted back to Mikhyal and Tristin’s suite and asked them to remain there, out of sight and under guard. He apologized, sounding genuinely regretful, and explained that he didn’t want Shaine talking to anyone about where he’d been or who Vorri was until they’d spoken to the Wytch Kings tomorrow, and he definitely didn’t want Shaine running off again.
Vorri and Shaine exchanged an amused look. Guards outside the door would hardly stop them from Jumping away if they were so inclined. Shaine hadn’t bothered to mention that, though he had no plans to go sneaking off anywhere. He’d already had an earful about running off by himself from both his brother and his father, and suspected more would be forthcoming. Once the guardsmen had left the suite to stand guard outside it, Shaine stared out at the snow-covered castle grounds and tried not to think about facing Ord and Edrun tomorrow.
“It’s only for the day,” Vorri murmured from behind him.
“It’s not that. Honestly, I’m just as happy being confined to the suite. The last time I was here — for Mikhyal’s wedding — I hated leaving these rooms. All those eyes on me, all the time. Watching, wondering… They all knew what had happened, and they were all waiting to see what the Wytch Council’s puppet would do next.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “The thought of facing the Wytch Kings tomorrow terrifies me, but I have no choice. And after all the horrible things Anxin made me do to undermine their efforts, now I have to convince them I can be trusted with the power I’m going to ask them for.”
“Wytch King Garrik trusts you,” Vorri pointed out. “And so does your father.”
“Ord and Edrun don’t.”
Vorri cocked his head, a slight frown furrowing his brow. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but… it seems to me that you have the power here.”
“Me?” Shaine let out a bark of laughter. “I have no power over the Wytch Kings. I’m not even the heir anymore.”
“Perhaps not, but you have something to offer that they can’t get anywhere else. You can Jump between kingdoms and carry messages. If they won’t agree to help you…” Vorri spread his hands. “Then you don’t agree to help them.”
“Do you really think that would help?” After so long under Anxin’s thumb, it was difficult for Shaine to imagine being in a position where he had the power.
“If having someone carry messages quickly is important enough to them, then yes, I think it will help.”
A knock on the door interrupted them, but Shaine tucked the idea away to be examined later. Perhaps Vorri was right. He turned toward the door in time to see Senn opening it. Prince Jaire and Prince Vayne stood in the hallway.
“Jaire!” Shaine said, coming forward to greet the prince. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to talk to anyone until tomorrow. Come and sit down. If you’re planning to stay, that is.”
“Wild dragons couldn’t keep me away,” Jaire said with a grin. “Garrik didn’t mean me or Vayne. We’ll both be there tomorrow, and we’ll both be arguing for you. I’ve asked the kitchen to send lunch in.”
Jaire and Vayne followed him to the sitting room, where Shaine stirred up the fire and threw another log on.
“I understand why Garrik doesn’t want you roaming the halls,” Jaire said as he and Vayne settled on the couch. “But Vorri is essentially an envoy from another kingdom. It’s not exactly diplomatic of Garrik to confine you both.”
“I’m hardly an envoy,” Vorri said quietly. “I’ve told you already, I have no authority to speak for my pack. All I can do is carry a message. If my father knew I was here, he’d be furious. Venturing into the forbidden lands is a serious offense among my people.”
“Which would explain why we never even knew you existed,” Jaire said. “There’s nothing in our own history books about Lethrian’s rhyx shifters.”
“There might be something in those books we found in the vaults at the summer palace,” Shaine said. “I never did finish going through them.”
“I’ve read through the ones you brought me when you were here for the wedding. There was enough in them to convince me that the Wytch Council has buried a great deal of information. I can’t imagine them having destroyed all of it. If we could get into their library…” Jaire trailed off, eyes going dreamy at the thought.
“If you’d like to send Brax over for more books,” Shaine started, then stopped, laughing. “Or, well, I suppose being able to Jump, I could just crate them up and bring them to you.”
Jaire grinned broadly. “I think that’s an excellent idea. Restoring the knowledge the Wytch Council has suppressed is an important project. Once this war business is finished, I plan to make it a priority.”
Beside him, Vorri began to fidget. Shaine looked over at him to find him watching Vayne, who was staring intently at Vorri.
Jaire noticed, and gave Vayne a nudge. “Vayne? What is it?”
“Sorry.” Vayne blinked, looking as if he’d just come out of a trance. “I’m sorry, Master Vorri. I know it’s rude of me to stare, but… you have the most fascinating mythe-shadow. The patterns are quite similar to the ones in our dragon shifters.”
“Do you think you could help them?” Jaire asked, sounding almost breathless.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll need to study your mythe-shadow for a bit longer, Vorri. May I continue, or does my staring make you uncomfortable?”
“By all means, keep studying,” Vorri said. “If you really think you can help…”
“You three continue talking, then. I’ll be a little while.”
Vorri shot Shaine a mystified look.
“Vayne is able to burn patterns into mythe-shadows,” Jaire explained. “He’s given me and many of our soldiers the ability to shift into dragons. I imagine he’s thinking he can repair the damaged shifter patterns in those of your people who were affected by the mythe-storm.”
Vorri turned wide eyes on Vayne, but the Prince of Irilan was already deep in study, his dark eyes unfocused.
* * *
Vorri tried not to fidget while Prince Vayne studied him with narrowed eyes.
Shaine was deep in conversation with Prince Jaire. They were discussing the things Shaine had read in the journal that had led him to seek out Stormshard. Vorri tried to look like he was paying attention, but in truth, he was reeling.
Could Vayne truly give his pack a future?
He’d said so during their meeting with the Wytch King, but Vorri hadn’t really thought it meant anything. After the devastating storm, his people had tried everything they could think of, all to no avail.
But burning the patterns into their mythe-shadows…
That was the sort of skill that had been used to create the pack in the first place, and was something none of the pack’s remaining mythe-weavers could do. Vorri could barely sit still.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Vayne stirred and rubbed his face with his hands as if he’d just finished a mentally taxing task.
Jaire and Shaine fell silent, both staring at him expectantly.
“I think I could do it,” Vayne said softly. “In fact, I’m almost certain of it. The patterns are far more complex than I’m used to, but they run in the same channels as the dragon-shifter patterns. Even if the patterns in your pack-mates’ mythe-shadows are too damaged to repair, I could use what I see in your mythe-shadow as a template to redraw them. In principle, it’s no different than what I’m able to do with our own people: any human who can touch the mythe can be transformed into a dragon shifter. I suspect it would work the same way for your people. I’m confident something can be done to help your pack-mates.”
“You… you can help us?” Vorri could hardly believe it.
“I believe so,” Vayne said with a tired smile. “I would need to study the mythe-shadow of one of your trapped pack-mates to be certain, as I’m not sure what sort of starting point I’d be looking at, but… yes, I think I can help. Would you mind shifting for me?”
Without a thought for whether or not it might be polite to do so, Vorri quickly stripped and shifted. Prince Jaire went silent, and Vayne studied him with wide eyes.
Jaire was the first to speak. “Aio’s teeth, but you’re beautiful. And terribly fierce looking. May I stroke your fur, or will I lose a finger?”
“A whole hand, more like,” Vayne said in a hushed voice. “Look at the size of those teeth!”
Vorri dipped his head and sent to Shaine, <Tell him I like to have my ears scratched.>
“He says he likes to have his ears scratched,” Shaine said to Jaire. “I think that’s a hint.”
“You can hear him?” Jaire got up to give Vorri’s ears a scratch. He didn’t seem at all uncomfortable around such a fierce-looking predator, and he knew just how to give a good ear rub. Vorri leaned into his touch and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.
“Ai.” Shaine nodded. “That’s not the case with you dragon shifters, is it? Mikhyal says he can only hear Tristin when they’re both shifted.”
“That’s correct,” Vayne said with a nod. “I shall have to study the patterns closely. It would be advantageous to us if our dragon soldiers could speak among themselves whether they were shifted or not. If I can determine what part of your pattern is responsible for that ability, it’s possible I might be able to replicate the ability in our dragon soldiers.”
“Not to disappoint you, Vayne,” Shaine said, “but from what Vorri’s said to me, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was tied to their pack-sense. Your dragons don’t have anything like that.”
“Pack-sense?”
“It’s an awareness they all have of each other. I’m only just starting to understand how to use it, and thus far, I can only sense Vorri, because he’s the only one I’ve been close to. But Vorri can sense his pack-mates, even if they’re separated by a great distance. That’s how we’re going to find them. He can feel them in the pack-sense, so he has a general idea of what direction they’re in and how far away they are.”
“Interesting,” Vayne said with a rueful smile. “You know, the more I learn about the mythe, the more I realize just how incomplete our understanding of it is.”
Prince Jaire looked up from his examination of Vorri’s rhyx form, hands still buried in his thick fur. “If this pack-sense operates on a different level of the mythe than I can sense, that would explain why I didn’t feel any sort of disturbance when Shaine and Vorri arrived here. They’re using a level of the mythe I can’t sense.” His eyes widened. “That might mean the Wytch Masters wouldn’t sense your pack moving through the mythe, either.”
<I wonder if that’s why the Wytch Council was so keen to drive us out, all those years ago,> Vorri said.
Shaine’s head jerked up. “Maybe we can find out. Maybe… I wonder if Lethrian kept any records.”
Prince Jaire’s eyes lit. “Do you think he might have hidden them in the vaults when he realized the Wytch Council was coming for him?”
“I think it might be worth a look,” Shaine said. “When I went through the books, I was mainly looking for maps and history, but the most useful thing I found was that journal. Once I’d found that and learned about Stormshard, I was so focused on how I might reach it, I stopped looking for anything else.”
Wanting to join the conversation properly, Vorri shifted back to human form and began to dress unhurriedly. “We could go back there now, Shaine,” he said as he struggled with the complicated laces on the borrowed shirt. “You could take us to your library, and we could have a look and then come right back here.”
“That’s brilliant!” Jaire exclaimed. “Could you?”
Shaine gnawed on his lower lip. “Garrik told us to stay here.”
“He only said that because he didn’t want you talking to anyone before you meet the Wytch Kings tomorrow,” Jaire pointed out. “And he never said you couldn’t go back to Castle Rhivana.”
“True,” Shaine said, frowning at Vorri as he gave up trying to lace up the shirt and plopped down on the couch. “And I suppose I really ought to find something suitable for Vorri to wear…”
“It certainly wouldn’t do to have him appear before the Wytch Kings dressed improperly,” Jaire said solemnly.
Vayne shook his head. “If anyone asks, this was nothing to do with me.”
“No one’s going to ask,” Jaire told him. “No one will even sense them going. What do you think, Shaine? Could you? You don’t have to spend the whole afternoon there, but…”
Shaine looked to Vorri, who shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ll help you search for your books.”
Finally, Shaine nodded. “After lunch, then,” he said. “Vorri and I will Jump to the library and see what we can find.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you as soon as we’ve eaten,” Vayne said. “I have duties at Dragonwatch this afternoon.” He gave Shaine a wink. “Jaire, on the other hand, will be waiting right here, I’m sure.”
“He doesn’t have to wait,” Vorri said. “I mean, if you’ve nothing else to do, Prince Jaire, you could come with us.”
“I could?” Jaire’s eyes widened.
“Ai, Shaine can Jump more than one person to Castle Rhivana.”
Jaire grinned happily. “In that case, I’m coming with you. Not even a wild dragon could keep me away from this!”
Vayne laughed. “I can vouch for that. If you find any of Lethrian’s research notes, I’d be very interested in seeing them.”
“I’ll fill you in tonight,” Jaire promised.
* * *
It took less than an hour for Shaine, Jaire, and Vorri to find over a dozen journals scattered about in the piles of unsorted books Shaine had stacked in Castle Rhivana’s library.
When they returned to the sitting room, their sudden appearance frightened poor Tristin so much that he spilled tea down his front. “Oh, dear,” he said, dabbing at his wet shirt with a handkerchief. “I don’t believe I shall ever get used to this Jumping of yours, Shaine.” His gaze drifted to the books each of them held. “And what have you three been up to?”
Shaine grinned broadly and held up a thick book bound in soft, brown leather. “These are all journals we moved from the vaults under the summer palace. They’re all from before the time of the Wytch Council. This one is Lethrian’s.”
“All three volumes of it,” Prince Jaire said. “Vayne will be pleased to hear it looks like there are research notes, too.”
Vorri and Jaire followed Shaine to the low table in front of the couch, where they set their burdens. Shaine took the top three books from his pile and handed them to Jaire. The next volume went to Tristin.
“I thought you might be interested in this,” Shaine said. “It’s a journal kept by one of Rhiva’s royal gardeners a few hundred years ago. It’s got planting records, notes on what grows best where, and all sorts of plans and sketches.”
Tristin, who had done what he could with the handkerchief, accepted the volume eagerly. “Thank you, Shaine. It was kind of you to think of me.”
Shaine grinned. “As soon as I saw it, I knew you’d be interested. Vorri found a few more like it, but without all the sketches and things. I’d have brought them, too, but we had enough to carry as it was. I set them aside for you in the library. We can fetch them later, if you want them.”
Tristin beamed and immediately began to examine his treasure.
Jaire was already paging through the first volume of Lethrian’s journal. “There’s a lot here, but it looks like the research notes Vayne would be interested in are scattered all over the place.”
“That’s what I thought, at first glance,” Shaine said, sitting down and reaching for another volume, which he handed to Vorri. “There wasn’t anything like a separate research log. It looks like it’s all mixed up together. We’ll just have to skim each volume and see if we can find any references to the shifter research.”
The three of them settled down, each taking one of the thick volumes. After about half an hour, Jaire said suddenly, “Oh! This is interesting… there’s a reference here to Wytch Master Larana. She’s the one who worked with Vayne’s father, Wytch King Urich, to develop the dragon-shifter patterns. It looks like she and Lethrian were sharing research notes…” He looked up at Shaine. “If they developed the technique together, it might mean the rhyx shifter patterns are done the same way as the dragon-shifter patterns. Vorri, do your people have tattoos?”
“Tattoos?” Vorri frowned. “No.”
“Hmm.” Jaire bent his head down to study the page in front of him. “It says here Lethrian didn’t like the idea of his shifters having such an identifiable mark… it would make them useless for spying in enemy territory. He wanted a method that wouldn’t involve marking the human form in any way. And he wanted the patterns to be heritable.”
“Judging from what Vorri’s said about his pack, I’d guess he was successful,” Shaine said. “You can all shift, can’t you?”
Vorri nodded. “Every one of us. Well. Except for those who were stuck in their rhyx forms during the storm. We gain the ability around the age of fifteen or so.”
“Like Wytch power,” Jaire said. “I wonder if the dragon-shifter patterns are heritable… I suppose it’ll take years to find out. I wonder why Urich didn’t give his dragon shifters anything like your pack-sense…” He grinned, grey eyes sparkling. “Oh, Vayne’s going to find this fascinating! I can’t wait to tell him!”
Jaire spent the rest of the afternoon in raptures, carefully marking every page that contained something he just had to show Vayne. It made little sense to Vorri, and from the glazed expression on Shaine’s face, he didn’t understand much of it either.
They pored over the books until late afternoon, when Mikhyal arrived and announced that the Wytch King had invited all of them — including Vorri — to a quiet supper in the family’s private dining room.
Jaire excused himself after asking Shaine’s permission to borrow Lethrian’s journals so he could show Vayne. When Shaine had seen the prince out, he pulled Vorri into the bedroom under the pretext of getting him properly dressed for dinner with the Wytch King.
When the door closed behind them, instead of going off to the dressing room for clothing, Shaine leaned heavily against it and brought his hands to his face. The distress rippling through the pack-sense brought Vorri to his side immediately.
“What is it?” Vorri asked.
Shaine lowered his hands. “My head is spinning. So much has happened, I feel like I’m still trying to catch up. The attack, and you, and Rinwyck, and… and…” He stared at Vorri with wide, green eyes. “And we still have to face the Wytch Kings tomorrow. And then we’ll be off to see if we can rescue your kin and maybe face a Wytch Master. What if they won’t help us? What if they will help us, but we can’t find your kin? What if we have to go as we are, and I get taken over and they make me hurt you?” Shaine squeezed his eyes shut. “I couldn’t bear it.”
“None of that’s happened yet,” Vorri said, taking hold of his hand. “And anyway, I can find them. I just have to follow their threads through the pack-sense. They are faint and muffled, so it’s difficult to tell how far away they might be, but I can sense them. As for the Wytch Kings, I don’t think you have much to worry about. You’ve already got two of them on your side, and that Wytch King Garrik sounds as if he’s rather used to getting his way.”
Shaine didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. His tension lashed through the pack-sense like a thousand tiny barbed whips.
Slowly, Vorri drew Shaine toward the bed. “Come on. Lie down and relax. Maybe if you close your eyes—”
“When I close my eyes, I see those children lying in the snow at Rinwyck,” Shaine said, his voice taut and brittle. “Or I hear Anxin laughing at me, telling me I’m going to fail again.”
“You’re not going to fail,” Vorri said firmly. “We are not going to fail.” He pressed his hands to Shaine’s cheeks and forced him to look at him. “I believe in you, even if you don’t believe in yourself.”
“You… you do?”
“I do,” Vorri said, leaning forward to kiss him.
Shaine responded, slowly at first, but when Vorri rubbed his body against Shaine’s, the heat shimmering through the pack-sense kindled his desire and he deepened the kiss.
Vorri pulled Shaine down on the bed, still kissing him. Clothing was quickly shed. Every touch, every kiss added fuel to the slowly building fire echoing back and forth between them. Desire built to a blazing crescendo, and even though he wasn’t as experienced as he wished, Vorri was still able to make Shaine forget his fears, at least for a little while.
* * *
Shaine slipped on his dark blue jacket and surveyed himself in the full-length mirror. Though his preference had always been for brighter colors, dark jewel tones made him look older and more serious, so he’d settled for a blue so dark it was nearly black.
As he surveyed himself, he caught a glimpse in the glass of Vorri behind him, shifting his weight from foot to foot while Senn plaited his long, white hair. With that hair and his pale skin, he looked devastating in the dark grey breeches and formal jacket Shaine had loaned him.
Senn tied off Vorri’s queue with a wide grey ribbon and stepped back, surveying him with narrowed eyes. “I think he’ll do, sir, though I can’t promise that queue will stay tidy.” The valet let out a long-suffering sigh. “His hair has been badly neglected. I’ve never had to use so much oil in my life.”
“Thank you, Senn, that will be all,” Shaine said stiffly. “You’d better go and see to Mikhyal.”
Senn left with nothing more than a mildly offended sniff, and when he was gone, Vorri gave Shaine an uncertain smile. “Do I really look all right? Or was he just being kind?”
“Kind?” Shaine snorted. “Senn? Aio’s teeth, no. He was being his usual smugly superior self. He prides himself on well-turned-out princes, and your hair was giving him fits. I don’t suppose you’ve ever had it properly cut, have you?”
“My mother trims it for me when it gets too long, but I’ve never had it done up like this. I usually just tie it back. This is all rather uncomfortable.”
“Ai, formal attire usually is,” Shaine conceded. He stared down at the floor, wishing his stomach would stop flipping about.
“Are you all right?” Vorri asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” Shaine lied, then bit his lip. “No. I’m not fine. I’m afraid they won’t… I owe you my life, and I want to help you… but if they won’t allow Vayne to perform the transformation on me, I might be more of a liability to you than anything.”
Vorri leaned in to steal a kiss, his confidence in Shaine flowing through the pack-sense and warming Shaine in spite of his fears. “Do your best. They will decide what they decide, and we will work around it.”
Shaine swallowed hard and gave his shirt one last tug. Wishing he felt as sure of himself as Vorri, Shaine led the way out into the main room, where Mikhyal awaited them. He, too, was dressed in formal attire.
Mikhyal looked them both over with a critical eye, then nodded his approval. “Are you ready for this, Shaine? I’d spare you the ordeal of having to speak if I could, but they’re going to want the whole story from you. And I imagine they’ll have a great many questions for both of you.”
“I’m all right. I’ve already been questioned once by Garrik and his advisors.” Shaine tried to sound unconcerned, but the tremor in his voice gave him away. Beside him, Vorri slipped a hand into his and squeezed.
Mikhyal’s eyes settled on their joined hands. He arched an eyebrow, but said nothing as he turned to lead the way through the halls of the castle.
This gathering was too large for the Wytch King’s study, so they met in the palace library, where several long tables had been pushed together to accommodate the Wytch Kings and their assorted heirs and advisors. Shaine sat between Mikhyal and Vorri, opposite the elaborately carved chair reserved for Wytch King Garrik, who was speaking quietly with Shaine’s father.
A fire burned in the fireplace and lamps were lit, giving the room a warm glow. Outside, great fluffy snowflakes danced against a leaden sky.
While they waited for everyone to arrange themselves around the table, Vorri fidgeted, and Shaine’s nerves frayed a little more.
Finally, everyone was seated. Wytch King Garrik’s expression was somber as his troubled dark eyes scanned the gathering, briefly holding each man’s gaze in turn. “It seems every time we meet, it’s in the wake of a tragedy,” Garrik said finally. “This time, the village of Rinwyck in Rhiva has been obliterated. Were there any survivors, Drannik?”
“The outlying holdings were left alone,” Drannik growled, “but no one in the village itself was spared. Everyone torn apart — men, women, children… even the dogs and the horses. They left nothing alive.”
The other men around the table all looked grave. “Rhyx again?” asked Wytch King Edrun of Miraen.
“Ai, just like the last few attacks,” Drannik said. “Tracks all over the village, ending where the mythe-gate was set. Shaine has some information about the attacks that may help us put a stop to them.”
All eyes turned to Shaine, who had to make a conscious effort not to hunch down in his seat.
“You and Vorri had better tell them, Shaine,” Drannik said.
“Ai, please, do,” Garrik said. “I heard the tale yesterday, but it will be news to the rest of you.”
Shaine drew in a deep, trembling breath and began to speak. This was his fourth time through it, but that didn’t help, not with all those sharp black eyes focused on him.
Since there would undoubtedly be questions about where he’d been and why, he started at the beginning, with finding the ancient journal in the ruins of the summer palace and thinking it might provide him with an opportunity to prove himself. There were a few frowns, but no interruptions until he got to the part where Vorri had taught him to Jump. Then both Ord and Edrun started demanding to know what Vorri’s intentions were and whether or not Vayne or Wytch Master Ilya had determined that Shaine hadn’t fallen under the influence of the Wytch Council once more.
Shaine shrank down, trying to make himself as small as possible while they shouted at each other. Vorri reached for his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze, but Shaine couldn’t even muster the tiniest smile in response.
“Silence!” Garrik slammed his hand down on the table. “We all have many questions. For now, rest assured that Vayne has examined Shaine and declared him free of Wytch Council influence. Let him finish his story. We have decisions to make, and they cannot be made without all the information.” When the grumbling and muttering finally subsided, Garrik said, “Shaine, please continue.”
Haltingly, Shaine went on with his story, ending with their discovery of the massacre at Rinwyck, and Vorri’s certainty that his pack-mates had been there. “We believe the Wytch Masters are controlling Vorri’s kin,” he finished, “possibly the same way Anxin controlled me.”
Before anyone could respond, he drew in a deep breath and announced, “I intend to go with Vorri when he seeks them out, and offer him whatever assistance I can. I realize that’s a risk, given that I’m still vulnerable because of what Anxin did to me. Mikhyal tells me that undergoing the dragon-shifter transformation would fix that vulnerability, but he wasn’t certain you’d all agree that it should be done.” He swept his gaze around the table, forcing himself to meet every pair of eyes for a few moments before continuing, “Regardless of your decision, I owe Vorri my life, and I intend to repay my debt to him with or without your help.”
To Shaine’s surprise, the main objection to his plan to accompany Vorri had nothing to do with trusting him and everything to do with his newly acquired ability to Jump.
“I cannot support such a thing,” Edrun said flatly. “He’s too valuable to risk.”
“Agreed,” said Ord. “This new ability of Shaine’s needs to be studied. Perhaps it’s something Vayne can replicate in our dragon shifters.”
All eyes turned to Vayne, who said only, “It would require study.”
“And what of the debt of honor Shaine owes to Vorri?” Garrik asked quietly. “Vorri saved Shaine’s life at great risk to himself, helped him complete his quest, and taught him a new skill. Regardless of how valuable you think Shaine’s ability, honor demands that we allow him to keep his word to Vorri. In fact, I would go as far as to say that we should do all we can to ensure their success. Ending the rhyx attacks would not only benefit Vorri’s people, but ours, as well.”
Edrun and Ord both began objecting at once, but before Garrik could step in, Shaine rose to his feet. “Excuse me,” he started, but no one heard him over the arguing Wytch Kings.
He was about to sit down again when Garrik bellowed, “Silence!” Edrun and Ord fell silent, and Garrik turned to Shaine and said mildly, “Shaine, you had something to say?”
“Ai, I do,” Shaine said, giving them all a look of disgust. “Only a few weeks ago I was a traitor who couldn’t be trusted. But now I can do something useful, I’m too valuable to risk. Make up your minds. And remember, I didn’t have to come here. Vorri and I could have gone off by ourselves. Undergoing the transformation would give me a better chance of succeeding, but know this: I intend to go with him, with your help or without it.” He sat down, hiding his shaking hands under the table as the Wytch Kings all frowned at him.
“He’s right,” Ilya said into the shocked silence following Shaine’s outburst. “You can’t stop Shaine from honoring his debt to Vorri. And in helping him, you may open the door to negotiating an agreement with his pack that could benefit the Northern Alliance a great deal. Not to mention ending the rhyx attacks on the villages.”
“But the risk—” Edrun started.
“Is Shaine’s to take,” Ilya said flatly.
“Agreed,” Drannik said. “Shaine should be permitted to fulfill his obligations.”
“I disagree,” Wytch King Ord said, bushy, greying eyebrows drawing together. “We cannot allow such a valuable resource to go gadding about the countryside unguarded. What if we were to send troops to rescue Vorri’s pack-mates?”
“That won’t work,” Shaine said. “We’ll be following Vorri’s sense of which direction to go, and to do that, we will have to cross into enemy territory.”
“And they’d both be safer doing that if Shaine could take dragon form,” Mikhyal said. “I have a proposal, if you’d care to listen.”
All eyes shifted to Mikhyal. Relieved to have the attention off of himself, even if it was only for a few minutes, Shaine leaned back in his chair and tried to stop shaking.
“Let’s hear it, then,” Ord said.
“Shaine will allow Vayne to study the patterns in his mythe-shadow that allow him to Jump,” Mikhyal said. “Once Vayne is familiar with the patterns, he will perform the shifter transformation on Shaine and we will give Shaine and Vorri whatever help they require to complete their mission. That way, whatever patterns are allowing Shaine to use this ability will not be lost if he and Vorri should fail. Would that suit you?” He directed the question to Edrun and Ord.
Edrun nodded slowly, but Ord said, “If they’re captured, the Wytch Council might construe their presence as an act of war.”
“What would you call the destruction of our crops and the murder of our villagers?” Mikhyal said drily. “We are already at war, and have been since before the harvest. Just because no large scale battles have been fought does not mean there is no conflict.”
“They may retaliate,” Ord clarified.
“Then we will retaliate right back,” Garrik said. “I see nothing wrong with Mikhyal’s proposal.”
One by one, the Wytch Kings agreed, some more reluctantly than others.
“Good.” Garrik looked pleased. “Vayne, when can you perform the transformation?”
“If I can take the rest of today to study both Shaine’s and Vorri’s mythe-shadows, I can do it tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Garrik said. “Then I’d like Shaine and Vorri moved up to Dragonwatch immediately. No sense starting rumors. Vayne, press a couple of the soldiers into service to ferry them up the mountain, and do your studying up there. I need Jaire here for the afternoon’s meetings, but he can join you there as soon as we’ve finished.”
“Ai, Your Majesty.”
It was with a mixture of relief and dread that Shaine followed Vayne and Vorri out of the library.
* * *
Vorri stood on top of the northernmost tower of Castle Altan, eyeing the two huge green dragons nervously. Both were fitted with saddles with a complicated-looking harness to hold the rider in place.
“I could just shift and run up the mountain,” Vorri said, staring up at the snow-covered watchtower Shaine had pointed out to him. “I could probably be there in a few hours.”
“Ai, but then I wouldn’t have time to study your mythe-shadow, Master Vorri,” Vayne said. “Come, it’s perfectly safe. We transport the Wytch Kings this way all the time. If we didn’t, it would be impossible to coordinate anything.”
Unwilling to admit that the thought of riding through the air on the back of one of the huge beasts frightened him, Vorri reluctantly approached the creature. He’d only been this close to a shifted dragon once before, and that was when Mikhyal had nearly roasted him in Rinwyck.
It might have helped if Vorri had seen the men shift, but he hadn’t. Vayne had sent word via one of the guardsmen, and had taken Shaine and Vorri to Tristin and Mikhyal’s suite to pack up their things, then brought them directly here, to the roof of the north tower. The dragons had been waiting for them, already saddled, and apparently deep in a silent conversation of their own.
As Vorri approached, the dragon lowered itself, pressing its belly to the stone floor so he could mount more easily.
“They like to have their eye ridges rubbed,” Shaine told him, and demonstrated. The dragon closed his eyes and rumbled deep in his chest. Shaine laughed. “And they let you know by purring. Almost like kittens.”
Vorri reached out a tentative hand to stroke the dragon’s eye ridge. The dragon’s brilliant emerald hide was surprisingly warm, considering the cold air, and it pressed its head into his hand, silently urging him to rub harder. Vorri complied, and the deep vibration under his hand as the dragon purred suggested he’d hit the spot.
“He seems friendly enough,” Vorri said.
“She,” Vayne corrected him with a grin. “This is Wyndra, Altan’s assistant weapon master.”
“Ah. Mistress Wyndra, sorry,” Vorri said. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance. Thank you for being willing to carry me up the mountain.”
The dragon dipped its head in acknowledgment, and, feeling much better about the whole affair, Vorri climbed carefully into the saddle and let Vayne strap him in. He pulled the fur-lined cloak Vayne had found for him tight about his shoulders, then waited while Vayne checked Shaine’s straps. Shaine, being used to the dragon harnesses, had climbed aboard the other dragon and strapped himself in.
When Vayne was satisfied, he said, “Drop them off in the courtyard, Wyndra. I’ll follow you up and take it from there.” Wyndra dipped her head again and launched herself from the tower.
Vorri squeezed his eyes shut and hung on tight to the hand grips at the front of the saddle. His stomach lurched up into his throat as the dragon plummeted, then leveled off and began to climb. When he opened his eyes, they were soaring up the mountain, the snow-covered trees flying by beneath them.
From behind, a smaller green dragon shot past them, this one bearing no rider. Vayne flew circles around them, and Vorri found himself almost envying Shaine what the transformation would give him. To be able to fly like this…
By the time they landed, Vorri had completely changed his mind about flight. He loved it, and was already looking forward to the flight back down the mountain, which he assumed would be sometime tomorrow, after Shaine’s transformation.
Vayne was already waiting for them wrapped in a cloak, but barefoot, and clearly feeling the cold. Shaine sent him inside and helped Vorri out of the harness and down off of Wyndra’s back. Vorri bowed to her. “Thank you, Mistress Wyndra. That was a truly lovely flight. I enjoyed it very much.”
Wyndra gave him a toothy grin and butted his chest gently with her great head. Shaine waited beside him while he watched the two dragons take off and glide down the mountain.
“You thoroughly enjoyed that,” Shaine said, grinning.
“Was it that obvious?” Vorri returned the smile shyly.
“I could feel it. In the pack-sense.” Shaine slipped his hand into Vorri’s and squeezed.
“I feel both excitement and fear tangling together in you.”
“Excited and petrified at the same time,” Shaine agreed. “Part of me can hardly wait for tomorrow, and part of me wishes it would never come.”
“It sounds as if Vayne has done a lot of these transformations.”
“Ai, he has. He’s done it to Prince Jaire. And to my own brother, and Tristin… and many others. I shouldn’t be frightened, but…”
“I think I’d be frightened, too,” Vorri said as they turned to follow Vayne inside.