Daughter of Dusk (12 page)

“What now, then?” asked Tristam.

Malikel pushed back the sleeves of his official’s robes, though they fell right back to his wrists. “I will continue trying to sway my colleagues who voted with Willem. In the
meantime, we do our best to prepare those who will be sent in. I’ll have the smithies work as fast as they can. Tristam, I want you to help me develop training drills and formations for
unskilled soldiers against these beasts.”

“Yes, sir.” He was already sifting through the possibilities. Basic spear work was essential. Any complex maneuvers would be too difficult, but perhaps some simple
formations…

“Kyra,” said Malikel.

She straightened. “Aye?”

“I need your help with the Demon Riders. I realize they’ve warned you to stay away, but your history with them still makes you better suited to approach them than anyone else in the
city.” There was something unnerving about the way Malikel looked at Kyra, and Tristam wasn’t sure if he detected another layer of meaning behind his words. He wondered again how much
the Defense Minister knew and felt a stab of guilt at deceiving him.

Malikel continued. “I need to make one more effort to negotiate peace. They’ve not been willing to talk to us before, but perhaps, if we impress on them what lies ahead, we can avoid
mutual destruction.”

Slowly, it dawned on Tristam what Malikel was asking. “You want to send Kyra as an emissary for peace? Sir, if I may speak freely, we have no reason to think we can trust any promises made
by the Demon Riders.” If Malikel had seen firsthand how the Makvani looked at humans, he would understand how naïve it was to try for peace.

A flicker of something passed over Kyra’s face, but Malikel spoke before Tristam could give it more thought.

“In affairs of the city,” Malikel said, “I will decide who is trustworthy.”

Tristam bowed his head, and the Defense Minister turned again to Kyra. “Kyra, you’re not sworn to me as a soldier or an emissary. I can’t command you into the forest, given the
risks. But if you are willing to go back to the forest once more, the city would be grateful.”

Kyra met Malikel’s gaze for a moment before she looked down again. “I’ll have to think about it.”

The Defense Minister dismissed them after that. Kyra left the compound, and Tristam worked his way through the still-buzzing courtyards back to his own quarters. To his surprise, an old courier
of his father’s waited outside his building. The man bowed as Tristam approached, and Tristam’s fear for his family returned.

“Stanley,” said Tristam. “Is all well at Brancel?”

“Your father and brothers are well, milord, though they fight hard. I carry a message from your father.” The servant bowed again as he handed a parchment to Tristam. It was addressed
in his father’s unmistakable bold script.

“Thank you,” Tristam said, breaking the seal. The letter inside was long, and he began to read.

Despite Kyra’s show of reluctance, she knew she’d go back to the forest. She’d been feeling the need to return, the same itch that had driven her out there the
night the demon cat attacked her. Malikel’s request was just the excuse she needed.

The city was abuzz with activity when she left the next morning. Word of the Council’s new measure had gone out. Heralds made rousing speeches against the Demon Riders in the city squares,
and many citizens declared they would volunteer to fight the menace. Kyra wondered how long this excitement would last once folk started dying. Word was that a few units would be recruited and
deployed immediately to test new strategies and start securing the forest, with the main offensive to happen in a month.

Once Kyra left the city, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. There was no point in trying to find the Demon Riders herself. She couldn’t sneak up on a full-blooded demon cat. But she
could
go into the forest and make herself available to be found, and there was that caravan attack Jacobo the trader had mentioned, the one that had happened just above the upper
waterfall. Kyra had wanted to see the place for herself before Idalee’s beating drove it from her mind.

It took her a few hours to walk to the waterfall, and the sound of crashing waters guided her the last few steps of the way. Big blocks of ice were piled at the bottom, though water still flowed
underneath. Kyra scrambled up a boulder-strewn track. There was a clearing at the top scattered with young trees, as one would expect from a campsite that had been abandoned a few years ago.
Kyra’s imagination kept her jumping as she wandered. Perhaps this scrap of wood sticking out of the snow had been a wagon wheel. Or maybe that glint of metal came from a wheel sprocket. But
whenever she looked closer, it turned out to be a trick of the eye.

There were wildflowers here, tall stalks that came up to her waist with cone-shaped clusters of blue, pink, and purple blossoms. They were called forever sprays because they bloomed all year
round. Their perfume evoked a memory in which she stumbled through a field of these flowers. In her memory, the flowers grew as high as her head.

“What are you looking for?” a low woman’s voice asked from behind her.

Kyra suppressed a shudder, and she slowly turned around.

A middle-aged Demon Rider woman stood ten paces away, scrutinizing Kyra with a stare that could have sliced glass. She was beautiful, with large dark eyes and an arched nose, an angular face,
and long black hair with the slightest hints of gray. She wore the familiar wraparound tunic and leggings of the Demon Riders, though the leather was tanned a darker color than the ones Kyra had
seen. Behind her stood a Makvani man about Leyus’s age. His features were milder and less stern compared with the woman’s, and his gaze held more interest than suspicion.

“You’re the halfblood, are you not?” demanded the woman in heavily accented speech. “The one who lets Leyus fight her battles.”

Kyra backed away, unable to make sense of the woman’s words. The Makvani man laid a hand on the woman’s arm.

“She doesn’t recognize you, Zora. You were in your fur.”

The woman was the one who’d attacked her, then. The one Leyus had stopped from killing her. Kyra backed up, ready to reach for her dagger. If they tried to change, she would have an
opening.

“Why are you here?” asked Zora.

Kyra did her best to stand tall. “I’ve got a message from the city for Leyus.”

“I don’t mean why you are in the forest. I want to know why you are in this clearing.”

This clearing? Why would they care why she was in this clearing?

The man cut in. “We bear you no ill will.” Given the glare Zora shot at him, Kyra thought he should amend that to “no ill will, for now.”

Just then, a new voice spoke from behind her. Kyra couldn’t understand the words, but she recognized the speaker, and she felt a sliver of cautious hope. She turned around.

Pashla looked exactly the same as Kyra remembered: tawny-yellow hair spilling over her shoulders, proud bearing, and a way of looking at Kyra that made her wonder, always, what the clanswoman
was thinking. Their eyes met for a moment, and Kyra breathed easier when she saw no animosity in Pashla’s gaze.

“Zora, Havel,” Pashla said, nodding to each in turn. Then, to Kyra’s surprise, Pashla ran one finger down the front of her neck in the Makvani bow of respect that Kyra had only
ever seen Pashla give to Leyus. Zora asked Pashla a question in the Makvani tongue, which Pashla answered respectfully. Zora took another look at Kyra, then turned abruptly and left. Havel’s
gaze lingered on Kyra for a moment longer before he followed Zora.

Kyra stared after them, wondering what had happened. Pashla stood next to her, calmly watching the two Demon Riders disappear, and Kyra found she didn’t know what to say. Pashla had nursed
her back to health after James almost killed her, and she’d been deeply hurt when Kyra turned her back on the clan to return to Forge. Over the past weeks, Kyra had often wished to see Pashla
again, to somehow make amends, but she didn’t know where to begin.

“Be careful with Zora and Havel. They are new to this side of the Aerins, and they do not look as kindly on humans as Leyus does.” She spoke with the same patient inflection
she’d used when teaching Kyra the ways of the forest.

Kyra fought a perverse urge to laugh. If Leyus was a shining example of human–Makvani relations, then Forge was in deep trouble indeed. But Pashla’s other words concerned her more.
“What do you mean, they are new to this side of the mountains?”

“Have you not noticed? A second clan has crossed the mountains. Zora and Havel are their leaders.”

Pashla was looking at her as if she had missed something patently obvious, and Kyra couldn’t help but wonder if she had. Did Havel and Zora look any different from the others? Of course, a
new clan would explain the recent increase in attacks. “They are in contact with your clan?”

“They used to be clan mates with Leyus. Leyus and Havel are like brothers.”

Kyra took a moment to ponder Pashla’s words. Things had been bad enough with one clan. With two…She had to try to make peace.

“Pashla, I’m here on behalf of the Palace,” she said.

The effect on Pashla was immediate. Her expression closed off, and her voice when she spoke again was cool. “What errand do they send you on?”

Pashla’s reaction stung, but there were more important things at stake. “I need to speak with Leyus. The clan is in danger. The city means to mount an attack, but our Defense
Minister wishes to negotiate peace.”

“Leyus will not speak with you. He has no desire to negotiate with humans.”

“Even if they outnumber his people by a hundred-fold? It would cost the city greatly to destroy you, but they could do it.”

“That’s enough,” said Pashla, a hint of anger in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d be so foolish as to deliver threats while in our midst.”

Kyra fell silent. She had gone about this all wrong. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to deliver threats. And I wish I wasn’t here on Palace business. I wish we didn’t have
to be enemies.” Truth was, Kyra had missed Pashla—the long walks they’d taken in the forest, the clanswoman’s patience and gentle touch. Was it too much to hope for
forgiveness? “You taught me so much, and I owe you more than I could ever repay.” Immediately, she felt embarrassed and very small, but it was too late to unsay her words.

The clanswoman studied her again, her gaze gliding over Kyra with the serenity of falling snow. “Your wounds have healed well.”

Kyra put a hand to her stomach. “I just have a light scar. I don’t feel it at all.”

Pashla motioned for Kyra to lift the edge of her tunic so she could see. The clanswoman ran a finger over the scar. It was an odd sensation, Pashla’s touch on her toughened scar
tissue.

“Time forms bonds,” Pashla finally said. “Those we grow up with, those we live with, we become connected to them, even if they’re different from us.”

Pashla’s words were an olive branch, the clanswoman’s way of saying that she somewhat understood Kyra’s choice to return to Forge, if not completely. “Thank you,”
Kyra said. When Pashla didn’t respond right away, Kyra found her courage and kept going. “Does it have to be one or the other? Why must I choose a side? I’ve been coming back into
the forest by myself. I know it’s foolish, but I can’t stay away.”

“I know you’ve been coming,” said Pashla.

Kyra stopped. “You know?”

“Of course we watch those who come from the city.” The clanswoman broke a forever spray off its stalk and rolled it between her fingers. “Your blood calls to you, does
it?”

Calls to her? She hadn’t thought of it that way, but it seemed apt.

“I can’t stop thinking about what it was like to change shape,” said Kyra. “Though I’ve not been brave enough to do it.”

The wind blew snow off the trees around them, and Pashla dusted off her sleeves. “I suppose it can’t be avoided. The temptation is too great. You cannot silence something that is
yours by right.”

Was Pashla just expressing sympathy? Or was she actually…Kyra was afraid to breathe for fear that her hope would be extinguished. Just the thought that she might experience her other form
again…

The clanswoman tossed the wildflower to the ground. “If you must change, then better to do it with my help.”

Kyra’s breath rushed out of her.

It was late enough in the morning that the sunlight shone straight into the clearing. Pashla turned her face to its rays for a moment, eyes closed, before turning again to Kyra. “The sun
is warm today. Take off your tunic, your trousers, and anything else that will tear. You can keep your cloak to block the wind. Once you are in your fur, you won’t feel the cold at
all.”

“Right now?” This was exactly what she’d been hoping for, but somehow she hadn’t expected the lesson to start immediately.

“Do you have somewhere to be? I do not know when we will cross paths again.”

She was right, of course. Kyra gathered her courage. “I don’t have anywhere to be,” she said. And she reached to untie her belt.

The first few tries, she couldn’t go through with it. As she stood there, eyes closed with a cloak wrapped around her and the cold breeze whipping at her bare feet and
ankles, Kyra concentrated and found the sense of her other form. She nudged it, coaxing it like a small flame, feeling it burn stronger. But when she sensed it reaching the point of overflow, Kyra
drew back and opened her eyes again.