Beloved (4 page)

Nigel motioned to the lean-to, but she moved to the fire and sat across from him instead.

“Thanks for the shelter, but I’d like to sit here awhile and let my hair dry if that’s all right?”

Nigel nodded, then continued with his sketching.

Kira drew her fingers through her hair to let the heat penetrate between the strands. “What are you drawing?” She leaned closer, but he propped the book further up on his thigh so she couldn’t see. A playful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Fine! I have secrets too, ya know.” Though at that moment she couldn’t think of a single one. Her stomach felt like she hadn’t eaten for days. “So, what’s for dinner?” She looked around the small camp hoping to spy a few berries or nuts propped on a piece of fabric like all the other times he’d fed her, but saw nothing.

Without looking up, Nigel pointed to the fire pit, then continued creating his masterpiece. Kira looked deep into the flames and partially buried under a few coals were two small bundles wrapped in some kind of scorched vegetation. Her mouth began to water at the thought of eating something besides the usual measly pickings.

She shook her head, her hair splaying out around her face, then ran her fingers through the strands again. It was almost dry and the warmth from the fire had more than warmed her, so she stood and placed her bow and quiver in her shelter, then shook out the blanket, all the while keeping her eyes on Nigel.

“How long before dinner?”

Nigel drew his knife and stabbed one of the bundles. It must have given him the results he wanted because he tossed his sketchbook aside and used a stick to roll the bundles from the coals. Once they were outside the fire pit, he peeled open the casing of large thick leaves, exposing a potato-like vegetable surrounded by yellow and green berries. The sweet aroma attacked Kira’s senses. She drew it into her lungs and let it pull her closer as she took her place near the fire again.

Nigel pierced the skin of the tuber and opened it up, making two perfect halves, then scooped the berries up with the edge of his knife and placed them on top. He shoved it in her direction, then opened the second bundle and repeated the process.

Kira drew her knife and used it as a spoon to scoop up a bite, blowing on it until it was cool enough to eat. The berries melted in her mouth like cotton candy, but tasted more like a mild onion dipped in brown mustard. At first, she turned up her nose, but then she bit into the tuber and her mouth exploded with flavor. The more she ate, the more it reminded her of a hot ham and cheese sandwich. Comfort food. Just what she needed.

Altaria stood in the doorway and watched while Ussay put the finishing touches on her new room. Her mother’s chambers hadn’t been touched since her death, so the task of cleaning and polishing every surface had fallen on the only servant who knew of Altaria’s existence. Ussay had seen her the night Kira disappeared, and from that moment had met Altaria’s every need. The king agreed because of her relationship with Cade and the fact that she’d eventually be royalty, but not without making his position very clear—he’d have no problem ordering her death for treason.

Ussay swore to keep their secret and suggested he let Altaria move out of his rooms to give both of them more privacy. At first he said no, but then reconsidered when Ussay began redecorating his sleeping chambers to make it more feminine.

“I like what you have done in here.” Altaria stepped further into the room and took in a deep breath. “And the flowers smell wonderful.”

Ussay adjusted the lace doily on the sideboard and took one last swipe at the mirror that hung above it. She stuck the rag in her pocket and wiped her hands on her apron. “I moved the queen’s things into the sitting room to get them out of your way. I only saw a few gowns in the king’s chambers, did you bring more with you?”

“With me?”

“From your world.”

Dumfounded by her words, it took several seconds to realize what Ussay meant by her question. “Do you not know who I am?”

A confused look crossed Ussay’s face. “Kira’s friend, Altaria. You arrived the night she disappeared.”

“And why do you think I slept in the king’s chambers?”

“I heard Octavion ask his father that night to take all the women to his chambers to keep them safe from Shandira. I assumed, since you still remained there, that he wanted your presence to remain a secret. Have I assumed incorrectly?”

Altaria didn’t know what to say. Of course Ussay didn’t recognize her, no one would. She’d never been allowed to show herself when she was younger, it was too dangerous. And her facial features and eye color were different from Lydia’s, so there’d be no family resemblance. For the first time since being locked in her father’s chambers, a flicker of hope crept into her heart. Maybe she didn’t have to hide.

And there was something else she hadn’t realized until that moment. Without Lydia in control—constantly forbidding her to reveal her gift—she could be herself. Becoming Altaria was simple, effortless, but with some practice she could become anything her shape-shifting self could think of. The hair on her arms itched to give it a try.

Instead, she turned her focus back to Ussay’s question. “No, you haven’t. For a moment I thought you assumed I was a member of the royal family, a distant cousin perhaps.” She faked a laugh, then tried to remember how Kira spoke. “Like, whatever.”

She moved to the bed and climbed up to sit in the middle, crossing her legs. “This room will do just fine. Thank you for your help.”

When Ussay left the room, Altaria jumped off the bed and went to stand in front of the mirror. She’d created the face that looked back at her, each year making it look a little more mature. For years, her mother and Lydia were the only ones who saw her shift. It wasn’t until she got mad at Shandira and Lydia let her have control of their body that she revealed her ability to change her facial features.

Where other Royals’ gifts were celebrated, she was told to hide hers, to keep it a secret. Rare gifts like hers were sought after by Collectors and if her gift was taken, she’d be left hollow and empty. Broken.

She leaned closer, concentrating on the shape of her nose. It morphed from thin and feminine to a hideous bulbous wad of flesh with flaring nostrils. She laughed at her reflection, then changed it back.

She glanced down at the back of her hand. There was one more thing she wanted to try. She’d only done it once before when she first started hunting. Her cravings were wild and unpredictable and with all the adrenaline surging through her veins, she’d taken her transformation farther than what was normal—a lion’s fur rose up on her arms and hands. At first it terrified her, but once she saw she could control it and make it go away, she wondered about the possibilities.

When the hunt was over, Lydia had expressed her fears and forbade Altaria to use her gift like that again. She said she’d never let her have control again if she did—that she’d spend the rest of her life locked up inside her. But now Altaria could do as she wished.

She held her hand between her face and the mirror so she could see both sides at once, then focused on shifting. The paw of a tiger. A man’s hand. Talons of a large bird. One by one, her hand morphed into whatever creature’s appendage came into her mind until her muscles began to cramp. She shifted one last time and flexed her fingers, inspecting them side by side with her other hand to be sure she’d gotten it right. She had, of course.

A crooked grin spread across her face as she found her bright blue eyes reflecting back at her with a little more attitude. “This changes things.” She could be anyone or anything and no one would be the wiser.

She went back to sit on the bed and summoned her brother. After grumbling something about being three days ride from the castle, he appeared in her room. A poof of dust filled the air around him and several dirt clods tumbled off his boots.

“This had better be good. I was questioning a man from Morganstar who claimed to see a young couple on the back of a large white horse.” He brushed more dirt from his pants, earning a glare from Altaria.

“Do you think he saw Nigel and Kira?”

“Not likely. I should reconsider the reward I offered. It has brought greedy beggars out of the woodwork and we are wasting time following leads that go nowhere.”

“Could you use some help?” Altaria flashed a grin at her brother.

He narrowed his brow. “Maybe. Who did you have in mind?”

“Me.”

Octavion’s fingers curled into fists. “No way! Father would skin me alive if I let you set one foot outside these chambers.”

Altaria jumped off the bed and took her brother by the arm. “Hear me out. I have something I need to show you that might change your mind.”

Tiny veins of yellow invaded his eyes. “The answer will still be no.”

“Will you at least listen?”

He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the bedpost. “I am listening.”

Altaria took a deep breath. “Ussay thinks I am from Kira’s world. She has no idea who I am. She thinks you brought me here the night Kira disappeared.”

“I assumed Cade told her the truth. But regardless, how does that change things? You are still our father’s daughter and—”

“Am I?” She slid off the bed and moved into the sunlight so he could get a better look at her face. “Are you sure I am your sister?” Before he had time to answer she shifted her face and hair into her best imitation of Ussay, then shifted back when Octavion’s shoulder slipped off the bedpost. He stumbled back, tripped over the bench sitting at the end of the bed and landed on his butt.

Altaria laughed before offering her hand to help him up. “Are you all right?”

He reached for her hand, but grabbed the paw of a leopard cub instead. He yanked his hand away. “Blessed Zi’ah!” He jumped to his feet, his face twisted into an expression she’d never seen before. Confusion? Disbelief? She wasn’t sure.

“Is that all you have to say?” Stifling another fit of laughter, she jumped back on the bed and combed her fingers through her long blonde hair as if nothing strange had just happened. She looked up to find him still standing where she’d left him, his face unchanged. “Well?”

He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “How?” He shook his head and stepped to the side of the bed. “Show me again.” He pointed to her hand, but didn’t touch it.

Altaria slowly changed her hand to that of an old woman with shriveled and discolored skin and crooked fingers, then held the other one out so he could compare them.

This time he took them both in his hands and turned them over, first to examine the palms, then the back. “Change it back.”

So she did.

He examined both sides again, then gave them back to her. “Explain this.” He pointed to where she stood when she’d become Ussay. “And that.”

“It is easy. I am a shape-shifter, as are all Royals. You can shift into your beast and back to the form you are now. You already know I can change my form when my spirit controls this body. I have always appeared slightly different than Lydia.”

Octavion ran his fingers through his hair. “But my beast comes from my bloodline—my heritage. What you can do is . . .”

“My gift.”

“Why have you kept this hidden from me? All these years on earth, only the two of us, and you kept this a secret.” She knew the expression he held now. Pain. Deceit. Anything, but trust.

“Mother said it was too dangerous to reveal and Lydia forbade it.” She reached for his shoulder and let her hand rest there. “I am sorry. I wanted to tell you, but . . . why do you think I was always angry. I have never been able to be me—to have my freedom—to make choices for myself.” She lowered her hand to her lap. “I want my freedom, Octavion.”

He shook his head. “Father—”

“
Father
?” She threw her hands up and huffed out the air in her lungs. “I am not a child anymore, nor am I a fragile woman. I refuse to be locked up in this castle for the rest of my life because he is afraid I will be killed. I want to breathe fresh air. I want to hunt for myself and I want to help find Kira.”

Octavion stepped out of the way when she jumped off the bed and went to the door. She grabbed the handle then turned back to face him, flipping her braid over her shoulder.