Chapter Twenty-Eight

Duncan was a shape shifter. Two days after witnessing his dramatic shift, Faelan still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the fact. She thought of Duncan every free moment, which was not often enough, since the captain assigned her this job. She was up to her ears in medicines, bandages, foodstuffs, and resentment.

Today Faelan accompanied an allied physician on his rounds, not a very taxing job. Naturally, her mind wandered to her favorite subject, Aimery Duncan. She had to admit that Duncan’s shift shocked her. He’d suffered horrific pain, and he’d looked surprised, terrified. But what an astonishing sight he was gliding over the battlefield on leathery wings, belching fire before his out-of-control reversion sent him tumbling out of the sky.

The fall injured him, but Faelan still didn’t know how badly. Shifters were fast healers in her experience, yet after two days, she’d heard no word of his injuries or recovery. Worry gnawed at her gut. Every attempt she made to see him ended at the bridge with a curt, “No crossing from this side, Captain’s orders.”

This time when she addressed the surgeon, Faelan moistened her lips and tried for casual, interested, but not anxious. “Is the Field Marshal recovered?”

The surgeon glanced at her, an odd look flitting across his features. Evidently, she missed casual by a mile. “How would I know, Miss? It took more than my poor skill to put Duncan back together again.”

“But you’ve been around the hospital tent haven’t you?”

“Last place you’re likely to learn anything. They took him into the command tent. The only people going in and out of there are the captain, Lathan Bruin, those elf twins, and the native girl of course. None of those folks are saying anything, at least not in my hearing.

“I did overhear a couple of cadets, though. They say he broke every bone in his body. They say it took Lathan Bruin and the Nhurstari twins over twelve hours to mend all the breaks. Afterward, the twins spelled him to sleep, so’s he’d stand the pain. They’re watching and waiting, so the cadets say.” The physician shook his head. “After dealing us such a victory, it’ll be a darn shame if he doesn’t make it.”

A graveyard chill shivered all the way up Faelan’s spine. Her chest compressed as if a belt had tightened around it, squeezing off her air. Duncan’s death was not an option. Shifting sped healing, everyone knew it. His wizard and his enchanters could do the rest. But if Faelan believed the physician, they couldn’t. Her wolf howled and clawed at her insides, wanting out, wanting the taste of her mate’s scent on her tongue, needing it like air.

“Excuse me.” Pushing the basket of bandages and powders into the physician’s hands, Faelan hiked up her dress and ran to the river. Hang the captain’s orders. She was crossing to Duncan. No one was stopping her this time.

Faelan paused to catch her breath at the top of the cliff overhanging the riverbank. Below her, Duncan’s pontoon bridges bobbed with the river’s current. The ever-present teams of blue clad cadets rowed up and down the length of the bridges, fishing out tangled debris around the anchor lines and guidelines. On the bridges, infantrymen walked up and down checking the water levels in floats, bailing as needed. Duncan’s bridges were high maintenance but—Faelan swallowed a catch in her throat worried for the man whose mind conceived them—they were wondrous to behold.

Her sari twisted around her legs slowing her progress as she scrambled down to the bank. It took several minutes to repair the damage to her dress, but looking like a mad woman was the last thing Faelan needed. Brushed and tucked, poised, head up, shoulders back, and walking at a sedate pace, she strolled up the abutment and breezed by the guard as if she had every right.

Her ploy almost succeeded. She was fifteen feet out on the bridge before the guard hailed her.

“You there! Halt.”

Pasting a serene smile on her face, Faelan turned. The man stalking across the rough timbers toward her wore fine burgundy regimentals with liberal gold braiding on his shoulders. He looked vaguely familiar. “Is there a problem officer?”

“What’s your name ma’am?”

“Faelan Foley.” She kept smiling. At least she hoped it was a smile, inside her, wolf snarled.

The officer glanced at the note board in his hand. “I’m sorry ma’am. No one’s allowed across from this side unless they’re on my list, Captain Fawr’s orders.”

She knew this officer. What was his name? Isem. Yes. Leaning into him, Faelan rested her hand on his arm. “Oh, but I am a special liaison between our two armies. Captain Fawr himself appointed me.” Faelan gazed up at the young man and gave him her best wide-eyed innocent expression. “Surely, those orders don’t apply to his special liaison, Colonel Isem.”

“No, ma’am.” Isem wrenched his gaze from where Faelan’s hand rested on his sleeve to focus on her face. “I mean, yes ma’am. Look. I don’t know much about Captain Fawr, but the cavalry boys all say he’s not a man you want to cross. Orders are orders. I’m sorry ma’am.”

Somehow, Faelan kept the hand on Isem’s arm relaxed instead of using it to claw his eyes out. Moving closer, she traced her upper lip with the tip of her tongue and trailed her fingertips along the edge of the note board in his hands. “There must be something we can do, Colonel? What are we really talking about here, a squiggly line on a piece of paper?”

A blush crept up the officer’s neck staining his cheeks. He stepped back, ran a finger under his high stiff collar. “I’ll send your request up to camp, ma’am.”

All right, she’d miscalculated his interest. How long would it take to send a message, and who knew what the kin-slayer captain would say? Faelan racked her brain for something urgent, reasonable, and persuasive. Plague! No. He’d never let her cross then.

“Colonel, I understand Field Marshal Duncan suffered extensive injuries from his change. As a shape shifter, I can tell you this is not normal. It is imperative I go to him. Who among your people knows the first thing about shape shifters? I want to help.”

Uncertainty flickered across Isem’s face, followed by a scowl. Clearly, here was a man unaccustomed to questioning his resolve.

“I will note your offer in my message, ma’am.” He flipped over a clean piece of paper on his note board and started writing.

“Colonel, can’t officers make decisions in the field?”

He glanced at her. “Yes ma’am, during battle, not during sentry duty.”

Faelan took a deep breath and tried again. “But Colonel, delay could cost—”

“Hello, Miss Faelan!”

Roland, that sweet loyal, helpful boy waved to her from one of the maintenance boats bobbing about ten feet away. “Excuse me a moment, Colonel. I see a friend.” As Faelan hurried over to speak to Roland, she couldn’t help thinking the poor man looked relieved.

She squatted on the edge of the bridge so she would not have to look down on the cadet, and asked the only question on her mind. “How is Aimery?”

Roland shrugged. “Sleeps a lot, but Eamon says it’s a natural sleep. I think he means Duncan’s better.”

The tightness in Faelan’s chest eased a bit.

“What’cha doing out here with Colonel Isem, Miss Faelan?”

“Arguing.” Faelan grinned in spite of herself.

“About what?” Roland paddled the boat in between the anchor lines, untangled a clump of cloth that looked like it used to be a shirt, and tossed it in the boat.

“I want to cross to your camp to visit Duncan. He doesn’t want to let me.”

“Why not?” Roland’s sandy eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Doesn’t he know who you are?”

Faelan gave a short laugh. “I don’t think he’s impressed.” She rolled her eyes, and drawled out, “Captain’s orders.”

Roland screwed up his face. “Colonel Isem, sir,” he called out. “Did Captain Fawr forbid this lady in particular from crossing?”

The colonel walked about halfway to where Faelan crouched on the bridge. He held up the note board. “Her name is not on the list. If your name’s not on the list you don’t cross the bridge.”

A big grin split Roland’s face. Stretching out a helping hand, he winked at Faelan. “Hop aboard, Miss Faelan.”

“Hold it right there, cadet,” Isem shouted. He lurched forward, made a wild grab at Faelan. “Come back here. You can’t—” Running down the bridge to stay abreast with the dinghy; Isem waved the note board over his head. “She’s not on the list!”

The little boat rocked alarmingly when Faelan leapt abroad, but Roland deftly compensated, keeping his tiny boat upright and pointed toward the bank. He shouted over his shoulder, “I didn’t hear anything about crossing by boat.”

The choppy current batted Roland’s dingy around. Faelan’s stomach churned and pitched along with the boat. She stroked her throat with her fingers, trying to forget the heavy breakfast she’d eaten.

“You look pale, Miss Faelan. Are you gonna sick-up?”

Faelan tore her gaze from the churning river and gave the boy a wan smile. She swallowed bile. “I’m fine. Really” She shook her head. “It’s the motion.”

“Oh. Focus on something standing still. It helps.”

It couldn’t hurt. Faelan glanced around. “Nothing’s standing still.”

“Try looking at the sky.”

It helped. With her head tilted back and the sun warming her cheeks, her stomach settled. Faelan let out a soft sigh. “You are a very smart, useful sort of young man. Do you know it? I’m sure you’re a great help to Duncan. Are you thinking of a career in soldiering, too?”

“I like soldiering, especially for Duncan, but my goddess—I can’t say for sure what my goddess has planned, Miss Faelan.”

“Call me Faelan.”

The boy laughed. “Oh no, ma’am, Field Marshal Duncan would box my ears for sure. He’s a real stickler for manners and stuff like that.”

It was Faelan’s turn to laugh. “He does have propriety issues, doesn’t he? Still, I’m sure you are a great help to him. Did you know he was a shape shifter?”

The boy shook his head. “He’s not.”

Faelan glanced toward the cadet. “I saw him shift.” Had she? Now that she thought about it, it hadn’t look like a shift at all. It had looked like—usurpation.

“I don’t know what you saw, Miss Faelan, but Mister Bruin and the twins are telling My Captain that Duncan isn’t two-natured. As you should know, Mister Bruin has ways to tell.” The boy’s brow creased. “It made the captain mad as all hell. Excuse my language.

“Hold on to the rail, Miss Faelan. We’ll be hitting bottom right about—” The boat jerked to a halt. “Now.” Roland leapt into the shallow water and tugged the dinghy ashore.

Puzzled, Faelan sat in the boat. If Duncan wasn’t a shifter…dear ancestor, she’d bitten him. He probably thought her love nip responsible for what happened to him. If so, he wouldn’t be happy to see her. Faelan took Roland’s offered hand. She was already here, too late to turn tail and run.