Chapter 4

Duran relaxed as Ulcieh settled on an empty seat. He tried to not let his gaze wander toward Royce, but it was difficult. Simply looking at the skin shifter sent his blood racing. He was stunningly beautiful. It was like his attention gravitated toward him, and when he was looking into those enigmatic blue eyes, it was as though a snare wrapped around him, making it impossible to move. He’d made an effort to avoid him as much as possible, but now it looked like, as the presumed second to Cedri, he was going to be spending a lot more time near him. He didn’t know what to think or feel about that realization.

“I understand you received a report about the army’s movement,” Jayce began.

Ulcieh filled a mug and stretched with a groan as he got comfortable. “I did. They have moved west through Sucábul, apparently toward the western coasts, though that’s supposition. All I can say for sure is they are not yet looking toward the north.”

“Good. We still have time. It may be borrowed time with them sitting on our doorstep, but we do have time. Nothing that size moves quickly.” Duran noticed Jayce drumming his fingers lightly on the chair while he thought over what this new detail could mean. The ring was a new affectation, his brow twisting thoughtfully as he tried to place it in his mind’s eye of the histories, or where it had come from. He wasn’t aware of Jayce having worn anything like it, and he certainly hadn’t brought such a piece with him when he was brought to Kielbos by Rune. When the realization of what he wore hit him, his brain froze. No one else seemed shocked he was wearing a ring that had been declared lost, probably stolen, when King Bail was murdered, if anyone else had even noticed it or recognized its significance. The ring had ceremoniously been handed down, king to heir, since the blessing of the Goddess Adhrer to grant the Valda-Cree pride lions their place on the throne. The ring was a creation of the very first crowned king, who supposedly had drawn the eye of the goddess herself as a mark of their devotion to the goddess of all animals. Excitement bubbled up inside his chest wanting to know how Jayce had suddenly been reunited with the ring, where it had been hidden. So many questions. Jayce’s voice broke into his rampant thoughts, drawing his attention back to the conversation and more pressing matters. “Has Master Theil been kept apprised?”

“I sent a rider this morning, to be sure.”

“Thank you.”

Ulcieh raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment. “Of course.”

“I’ve asked Cedri to be one of my personal guards. Do you have any issue with that?” He posed it blandly, though his gaze sparked with playful humor. Duran knew Jayce was doing it to goad Ulcieh, and it worked.

“Of course not! It’s about time you claimed your guard.” He was practically jumping in his seat with his outburst. Jayce snorted with laughter, grinning at Ulcieh when he grumped, “You set me up.” He glared with a single eye.

“Only because I knew what you’d say.” Chuckling, he added, “I know you’re working on the keep’s guard, implementing who is willing. I want your opinion on who from the keep should be included in my personal guard.”

“Bankor,” he supplied without hesitation.

Jayce nodded. “I had a feeling you’d suggest him. He’s still outside, yes?”

“He is.”

Jayce informed Ulcieh, “He is to receive one of Maxon’s blades and start immediate training.”

“What if he can’t handle a blade?” Duran asked.

“I don’t see that happening,” Ulcieh offered. “He wants to participate. He believes in what we’re trying to accomplish. He will work for the skill.”

“Good. You and Cedri are to work together once he finds those willing to volunteer to join the ranks. No segregation. Rinattoah was a community of inclusion by all the history I’ve read or learned, a rich history that welcomed everyone. I know times are not the same now and it will not be easy but moving forward I want to aspire to the same inclusivity for all, for people, mages, and skin shifters to be able to work together. Inclusion is the only way to balance understanding between those who work the kitchens to the skin shifters to the guards. Tradesmen to the night watch. Understanding creates empathy and compassion for your neighbor.” His expression soured. “Believe me, I know what the opposite is. It can tear communities, families, apart.”

“As you wish.” Ulcieh, Duran, and Leodinn chimed in.

“Do you really think it’s possible?” Royce asked with a clear hint of question and wonder. Duran understood. Reclaiming the throne and stabilizing their world was no small task dropped at Jayce’s feet.

Jayce searched the ceiling, taking the time to consider the question. This was one of the things Duran had learned about Jayce. He took time to answer rather than merely giving an empty promise or a reply that answered nothing. Jayce was a thinker, able to weigh options.

“Do I think it’s possible? I want it to be,” Jayce replied with full honesty after a lengthy moment’s consideration. “Do I believe it will be easy? That’s a resounding no.” He grinned crookedly. “I already know that.” A downdraft through the chimney created a flare in the fire, a shower of sparks rising. A sign of the wind changing. Incoming storms were gathering strength as the morning sped into afternoon.

There was a sudden crisp knocking on the door. “My lord!”

“Enter!” Jayce sat straight, all signs of thoughtful conversation and peace stripped away.

Bankor swung open the door. “My lord, I apologize for the interruption, but there is trouble downstairs.”

He pushed out of his chair to stride forward with Cedri immediately at his shoulder. “What’s going on?” Jayce demanded.

A young guard stood behind Bankor in the hall, sucking air as though he’d run through the keep. He wore the lighter leathers of a guard in training. Bankor included the youth behind him as he shared, “There was a disagreement in the front courtyard with Lord Atkill’s master at arms. There appears to have been a violent argument amongst his men and Lord Atkill has departed. There is an injured man being seen to in the greeting hall.” He straightened his shoulders before those in the room, awaiting his next orders.

“Rune isn’t here as your First Counsel. If I and Royce may join you?” Cedri lingered at his side, waiting for his decision.

Royce was still as a shadow beside Cedri. Duran could easily envision him having the skill to be lost in the crowd, even with his flaxen pale hair. He had mastered the ability to be unseen and overlooked like a natural aura of still quietness. He didn’t doubt it was part of his cat’s nature. It was truly remarkable for him to do so in plain sight. If Duran wasn’t acutely aware of him as a man, because, for whatever reason, he couldn’t ignore the shifter’s presence, he would almost overlook the stunning man himself. But somehow, he personally was finding it impossible. Duran was relentlessly drawn to him.

“I and Leodinn will join you, as well,” Duran offered, following on Cedri’s request. A curt nod was given to include everyone. As when he’d greeted the visiting clans that morning, everyone formed a seamless box of protection around Jayce.

Jayce’s mouth was pinched to a neutral line, hiding his deeper anger as they all moved from the room and made their way as a group downstairs once more. Cedri and Duran before, with Royce and Bankor behind. Leodinn and Ulcieh followed the group, a protective cage around Jayce until they learned what the threat was.

“Make way for Lord Morrow!” Cedri barked once they cleared the doorway. It took time for people to realize he was present and for them to create space around where the wounded man lay.

A soldier was stretched out on a table. Duran could make out details between people’s frames standing around the table. A short, neat beard, long legs, and a leather breastplate with an insignia. Duran gasped with recognition. “I know him! His name is Yeh Yeh and we spoke before Lord Morrow’s arrival.”

There were two women working over a slice on his chest. Not deep, but not pretty. The man’s pale features and taut jaw said plenty about the injury. If he hadn’t been wearing at least leathers, it would have been a killing blow across his breast. Blood soaked through his shirt before they were able to stifle the flow. The cut ran from his left shoulder to about mid torso, like someone had tried to slice him in half, lengthwise.

“Is he going to be okay?” Jayce asked the women tending to his care.

“He will be. We’re stitching up the wound. It’s not too deep but he’ll have a scar.” He placed a hand on her shoulder in thanks then stepped backward to let them work.

“Someone tell me what happened! Now!” Jayce demanded, anger carrying his voice across the hall.

Lord Eitin stepped forward to speak. “My lord, Lord Atkill took umbrage at your actions. Unfortunately, he took his anger out on his master at arms and deserted him and several more who didn’t agree with his attacks against you.” He motioned to a nearby wall where at least a dozen armed men were simply standing, shocked and burdened with worry over their commander. “He and Lord Seamus gathered their entourages and have departed.”

“Did they leave to bring back their forces?” Ulcieh demanded.

“I do not know.” Lord Eitin bowed with apology. “However, if they do, I will motion to denounce them with our councils for immediate tribunal. Attacking for the sake of hurt pride will not be looked upon kindly.”

Duran snarled. “That’s all?” He pointed a finger at the wounded man, anger deepening his voice. “We have women and children who could have been savagely injured, but you’ll denounce them?” Duran was nearly vibrating with suppressed rage at the other lord’s apathy. The two missing lords had the ability to annihilate them with their hidden forces and they’d denounce them? He raised a hand to continue his tirade when he heard, “Let me follow them,” stopping him cold.

Duran whipped around, his gaze landing on Royce. He wanted to deny him on the spot, and he didn’t know where the need to do so came from. It wasn’t his place, and it shouldn’t have been his first thought. The next rush of emotion was a need to protect him from the aggression at least Lord Atkill was capable of if he’d attack his own master at arms. Duran’s mind was suddenly spinning with so many thoughts. Where was all of this coming from? He didn’t even know the skin shifter to make those demands of him. Yet, the idea of Royce being in danger, the idea of this man being alone, to trail the lords to their soldier camps left him nearly physically ill.

Royce twisted when Cedri spoke. “Only so far as to ensure they are leaving.” There was no arguing with the tiger.

Royce stood straighter, accepting the stipulation with a faint nod. “I understand.” He faced Jayce. “My lord?”

Jayce studied him, then said, “Granted.”

Duran’s mouth thinned. None of his reactions were making sense, and the idea of Royce being sent out alone made him feel even more out of sorts after the previous emotions bombarded him. Stuffing them down so he could speak, he said, “I’ll show you where you can safely shift.”

The pair moved briskly through the halls to the northern edge of the keep’s grounds. The breezes were building as the sun climbed higher, a threatening wall of dark, ominous clouds surging in their direction. The rain over the plains may not reach the keep with the warming heat, but it was hard to tell which way the wind would blow the storm line. “This doorway will be open for you.” He pushed on the handle until it swung open. “It’s overgrown on this side and will provide cover.”

Duran was acutely aware of Royce as he hurriedly tugged his shirt off first, unconcerned with his nudity. Duran had to swallow his reactive gasp as his chest was revealed. He was so pale, like fresh morning snow. Duran clenched his hands at his sides when the urge to reach forward became unbearable. A curiosity to touch the sculpted firmness of his chest was like a fire on his brain. Where was the need coming from? Why did he want to touch this man’s body? When he found men attractive, they tended more toward the wounded soldier inside, lean, tall. Royce was roughly as tall as he was at less than six feet, with wide shoulders and a chest to match them, to suit his cat. The tumultuous emotions and needs were making him irritable.

Unaware of Duran’s restraint or confusion, Royce dropped his pants without warning to fling them over the branch along with his shirt. Fine skin, smooth from shoulder to knee. Strength surged under skin as he showed his back. Muscles expanded and bunched as he flexed and twisted. A body that defied sunlight to stay glistening pale. He was a work of art.

“Is everything all right?” Royce’s rumbling voice yanked him from his gawking. A smirk and a raised pale eyebrow seemed to punctuate his question.

Duran glared at being stone cold busted in his perusal, then snapped, “Yes.” Royce’s eyes flared a brilliant blue then, before he could blink twice, there was a shimmer encapsulating maybe three heartbeats before a snow leopard appeared on the ground before him. It wasn’t as fast as Jayce’s own ability to take on his lion, but it was still remarkable. Never being so near a skin shifter during their change before, watching the change was inspiring. He swallowed when he found it difficult to speak. “Be safe,” he offered, his mouth dry and not knowing why.

The large spotted cat chuffed then bounded away, his thick tail streaming behind him as he coursed between trees.

A rustle overhead had Duran seeking upward, a hand to shade his eyes from the cloudy sunlight. Thick summer leaves obscured the animal until the flick of a wing drew his gaze. A large brown owl was peering boldly down at him. It hopped down two branches, as though studying him as well. He’d seen the raptor around but had assumed it was being cautious of the increased activity around the keep, staying well-hidden during the day. This was the closest it had been to Duran, though.

“You think I should follow him, don’t you? He’s probably safe enough, but what if something happens? And who knows if the coming rain is going to be an issue.” It was a plausible concern.

The owl twisted on its neck enough to gaze in the direction the leopard had gone. When it turned around to look at Duran with bold, golden flecked eyes, it whuhu-d quietly, as though replying.

“You’re right. I have a bad feeling about this as well. I don’t trust Atkill.”

Mind made, Duran sprinted in the same direction as Royce, aware the owl was following behind, gliding through branches and leaves on nearly silent wings. He didn’t know why the owl had chosen to follow but without knowing what he was running toward, he’d accept the company.

He didn’t know how long he ran as the leopard had a wide lead on him, especially knowing which direction he headed to spy on the armed forces. Jumping over the occasional obstacle, Duran hoped he was following a close path. It wasn’t long before he began to catch the jangle of a lot of people in armor in the distance. Slowing his approach as he caught his breath, he slipped from tree to tree. Barked orders and movement drifted to him as he inched closer. He slowed down to a slinking pace, rolling from tree to tree. They were indeed a good distance from the keep itself, probably two miles. Close enough to be called if needed, and yet remain hidden. He felt his stomach tighten at the implication. Lord Atkill had brought forces with intent.

Duran slipped past the milling men unseen through the trees and shadows, feeling the loss of sunlight as the cloud cover thickened. The likelihood of rain was growing. The air was becoming brisk with the wind snapping overhead and strengthening through the tree canopy. A roll of thunder growled in the distance. As quickly as this storm was moving in from the plains, it would likely blow through in a rush, but it wasn’t going to make the men out in the open happy. He didn’t know which direction the leopard had traveled and wasn’t able to move as covertly himself. Mages didn’t typically carry weapons. Iron wasn’t their best friend. It diminished their elemental magics. Even Rune’s short blade was tempered steel.

Loud yet indistinct yelling traveled on the winds the closer he got to what appeared to be the largest group. There were banners reflecting the two lords’ clans and several mounted horses. He immediately recognized one of the banners from Yeh Yeh’s insignia as Lord Atkill’s. Assuming the other banner was Lord Seamus’s force made sense. They had left the keep together.

Duran didn’t know who else may have stayed to learn more or to talk with Jayce, who wanted to support the reemergence of the Valda-Cree. He’d personally managed to speak to roughly half of the crowd. But none of the other visitors had brought an armed force with them, to wait secretively in the shadows, either. If Atkill decided to attack the keep, even with the extra lords, their entourages, and the pride elders, they would be severely outnumbered.

He froze in the shadows behind large trees when orders grew tersely sharp on the wind. He didn’t know who was speaking, but he was able to start making out their conversation. Pressing a shoulder to bark, he rolled minutely around from his hiding place to peek beyond in an attempt to overhear clearly.

Lord Atkill was on his mount, spewing orders. They were going to attack! He growled as his worst fears came to be. Atkill was using Yeh Yeh as a martyr, even though he’d wounded the soldier himself. Anger burned at Atkill’s actions as the first rain drops started to hit the ground. He had to warn the keep, but he couldn’t keep up with a charging horse! Where was Royce? Had he overheard the orders to attack? He could race to warn the others.

Focused on those voices to try to hear their plans, intent on those arguing, he never heard the slight crunch of a footfall behind him as it displaced dried leaves. There was a blinding crack of pain on the back of his skull, then darkness.