Shapeshifters (5 page)

Andreios was the first to jump to his feet to protest, though the female guard shouted out not a moment after. Even my mother's voice rose, at the same time that Charis Cobriana stood. Zane's voice climbed above the others, saying, “I think that's an absurd idea,” while my own objections were frozen in my throat.

Again the Disa held up her hands for silence, and one of the other Mistari touched Charis's
arm and told her to sit. Another guard was doing the same to Andreios.

The Disa's voice was soft, almost sad, as she asked, “If you, the leaders of your people, are unwilling to make amends, then how can you expect your warriors to do so?” More loudly, she told the hall, “Stay here for the night, think on my words—”

Zane's voice interrupted. “Wait, please—”

“Dismissed, all of you,” the Disa commanded. “You may return tomorrow at sunset if you wish to do so. For now, seek your beds, rest and think on my words.”

Just like that, we were barred from the hall. The Disa and Dio left their dais as we were ushered out by Mistari guards and escorted to the rooms in which we would be staying.

A young Mistari girl brought water to wash with, as well as an assortment of cheeses, fruit and warm, freshly baked brown bread. I was grateful that the Mistari had thought not to serve meat, since like most of my kind I avoided it.

Rei stopped in to check on me once, and I had to assure him repeatedly that I would be fine before he calmed down.

He paused at the doorway and then turned back to me and apologized. “Dani, I'm sorry I lost my temper in the hall today. You know I care about you. I always have. The thought of that
snake coming anywhere near you …” He trailed off and looked away from me as if he couldn't meet my eyes. “I should go. Good night.”

“Good night, Rei,” I answered with a bit of a sigh.

Then he was gone, and I was alone again, with only the flickering orange light of a solitary candle for company.

I lay back on the soft fur sleeping pallet and watched the light dance on the ceiling as I thought.

Never ask your people to do something you do not have the courage, or the determination, to do. If you want peace, start between the two of you.
How could the Disa expect us to suddenly turn from enemies to a pair bond? She couldn't understand. The Mistari had never known the intense bloodshed and hatred our two kinds had known.

But still, there was a reason why the Disa was considered wise, a reason why warring people had come to her lands for hundreds of years when they sought peace. Never before had anyone managed to get leaders of both sides of this war together. If that was possible … maybe Eleanor was right—maybe anything
was
possible.

A
CHILL DOWN MY SPINE AND A FLICKER OF
darkness in the corner of my vision announced his presence, even before the figure emerged from the shadows.

Still wearing black snakeskin pants and a black shirt that I now recognized as silk, the cobra terrified me just by being in the room. Pure primal instinct forced me to my feet. The back of my neck tingled, gold eyes dilated to catch every hint of light and every inch of skin was suddenly hypersensitive. My heartbeat had jumped instantly, until I could hear it as a near buzz in my ears.

“What do you want?” I asked, choking back a cry for my guards. Zane Cobriana would not be stupid enough to kill me in Mistari lands.

Would he?

I could not read his expression as he collapsed gracefully onto one of the large pillows that lined the room. “I decided that you and I should talk,” he stated simply, his voice no louder than my own. “Sit down, Danica. I'm not going to ravage or bite you or whatever it is you're thinking.”

I forced myself to sit, my legs folded under me in the fine linen slacks I had yet to replace with nightclothes. My heartbeat had slowed slightly, but I could still feel the pulse in my temple and at my wrists. “Talk?”

“We were thrown out of the Mistari hall quite abruptly,” he explained, “and in all likelihood the same will happen tomorrow unless we have some discussion prior.”

“Continue,” I said slowly, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

“Did you know there are four guards outside your door, Danica?” Zane inquired. My expression must have appeared surprised, because he continued, “I thought not. The Mistari added their own people to yours. They're all incompetent really, or I wouldn't be here, but it would have been tricky to catch you alone tomorrow. And since you're the only one in your group who has demonstrated any sense, you seemed the one to talk to.”

“It's late, Zane, and I am very tired,” I sighed, my unease and fatigue joining to make me impatient. “What is it you want to talk about?”

“About life,” Zane replied lightly. Before I could speak, he went on, “And about death. About the fact that my people mean more to me than anything else, and I would do almost anything to end this foolish war. I want to talk about the world, and most specifically, about you.”

It took me two tries to ask, “Me?”

Zane sighed heavily. “Of course you. If the Mistari Disa's proposal is even to be considered, I would like to know what I would be getting myself into.”

“I believe you already expressed your opinion on that subject,” I said dryly, falling back on the cool, distant tone of a monarch. I tried not to be a frosty queen to my people and my friends, but when nothing else worked, I knew enough to use that composure as a shell.

“And I believe my first reaction is probably still correct,” Zane agreed, as if he had accepted a compliment. “It
is
an absurd idea, but that is no doubt why it has never been tried. I'm not saying I'll go along with it,” he said hastily, before continuing, “but it does have some potential.”

There were no words to express my emotions in that moment, though I am sure they bordered between pure terror and helpless fascination.
The Disa's suggestion was impossible. It would never happen. But still … “And what exactly do you think you are ‘getting yourself into'?” I inquired distastefully. Before this conversation went any further, I thought it best to have some idea of where Zane intended it to go, since he had surely come here with some hidden purpose.

Again his gaze flickered down my form. “If it was just your body, Danica, I would agree very quickly,” he stated calmly, and despite my fine upbringing, I was not ignorant enough to keep a blush from my face. He continued, sounding slightly resigned, “But one doesn't chose a life's partner for form, and the simple fact is that your mind comes as part of the deal—and
that
is a part of you that, despite years of musing over it, I have yet to fathom.”

Years?
I did not care for the sound of his phrasing.

“I thought I understood you, once,” he continued. “Beautiful and arrogant and blind to suffering. And I had almost learned to hate you. But then I heard that the pristine Danica Shardae had knelt in the blood and filth of the battlefield and held my brother's hand and sung to him so he would not die alone. It made me think that perhaps you might have a heart after all.”

I jumped when he reached toward me, belatedly recognizing the movement as something casual, a mere gesture while he spoke. His hand
froze, as if he had not even realized he had moved until I reacted, and then it balled into a fist.

Zane was on his feet instantly. “Damn it, Danica!” he hissed, his voice soft but full of impatience. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

I stood as soon as I felt Zane's temper, stepping back from the serpiente. Fear made my voice venomous as I responded, “Forgive me if I find it difficult to completely trust the man who has had so many of my kind killed.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already,” Zane replied bluntly. “I didn't have the slightest bit of difficulty slipping past your guards. Your avian heart beats almost a hundred times a minute at rest. Poison from a cobra's bite would reach your brain within seconds, so quickly you would never have a chance to cry out.” His red eyes flashed with challenge, daring me to contradict him. “Trust me, little avian, when I say that if I wanted you dead, you would have been dead long ago. I wouldn't have bothered to set up this whole meeting with the Mistari. I would have broken into your room in the dark of night and smothered you with that Chinese silk pillow that you keep on top of the trunk at the foot of your bed.”

“What?”
My voice was very faint, with shock this time instead of fear.

I knew that he was only pretending to misunderstand when he said, elaborating, “You
know the one I mean—gold and red silk, with flying black and silver dragons. Beautiful, obviously handcrafted—”

“Who told you about it?” I demanded, my fear jelling with anger to form a well-practiced surface of calm.

Zane raised an eyebrow as he collapsed back onto the cushion on the floor. “About the silk pillow? Or about the oaken chest it sits on?” He paused, raising his red gaze to meet mine, and I held it without wavering. “Or maybe about the white woolen blanket you sleep with in colder weather, which is as soft as new down, and the heavy tapestry that hangs across the open balcony doors in good weather.”

My voice was lodged in my throat. “How …”

“I've been there,” he answered simply. “I've seen it. The Hawk's Keep isn't the easiest place in the world to sneak into, but I have a talent for such things. I nearly got myself caught the first time, trying to figure out how to get to the first floor, but luckily avian guards don't often look
up
for an enemy. From there, there are servant staircases. You don't even keep your door locked, Danica.”

I will now.

Finally he lowered his gaze, and I let out the breath I had been holding. “You're making this up.” It wasn't possible he could have gotten by
the Royal Flight. And no matter what time of the night, someone would have seen him in the halls.

“You really think so?” Zane sounded amused. “The first time I saw you, Danica, I was sixteen. I had just lost the first of my brothers in an avian attack. Someone—I don't remember who—told me you had just turned fifteen. For your birthday, my brother died.” Despite the words, his voice remained calm, tired. “I rode a horse to the old Desmodus paths, and then cut through the woods. It was an hour or so after midnight when I found myself at your bedside. I meant to kill you.”

“And why didn't you?”

“Sit down, Danica,” Zane requested, in almost a sigh. “Do you have even the faintest idea how beautiful you are?” When I did not respond, he closed his eyes, as if picturing a long-ago memory. “You were fifteen. Only a year younger than I was. You were wearing white lambskin pants, and a blouse made of fur-lined cotton. I assumed you had fallen asleep before preparing for bed.” He shook his head, opening his eyes. “I remember thinking you were as striking as the chaste Greek goddess of the hunt. I was young. And I wasn't a killer—not then, anyway. I had never killed before, and I couldn't start by destroying something so exquisite. I reached out to touch your cheek.”

I was trapped in his story, trapped in the
cool voice and hypnotic eyes. As Zane spoke, he reached out, brushing fingertips over the soft skin of my cheek. His hands were cool but not cold, the touch as light as a snowflake's kiss. Even the contact of skin on skin, so unusual among my own kind, could not pull me from the spell.

“You cried out in your sleep and pulled away from me. And then I saw the cut on your cheek, right here. Your arm had another slice, like you had been in a fight.” As he spoke, he traced the phantom injuries, which had long since healed. I suddenly knew exactly the time he was speaking about, remembering as if it had been yesterday: It was the day Vasili was killed. Only quick action from the rest of the Royal Flight and the defensive tactics Rei had taught me had saved my own life.

Zane's voice pulled me from my thoughts. “For a moment I wanted more than anything just to take you into my arms, but you had pulled away from me once already, and I was afraid of frightening you. I told myself I hated you.” His voice remained gentle despite the words, as he trailed fingers through my hair. “But it wasn't true. You weren't responsible for the fighting. You weren't able to stop it any more than I was.”

“Why are you telling me this?” My voice seemed very far away.

Zane spilled onto his knees, which brought him abruptly closer to me; my breath hitched
sharply with surprise, but the way I was sitting kept me from jumping away.

“You didn't start this war, Danica, and neither did I,” Zane stated. “It's been going on for so long it's meaningless; people fight because they don't know what else to do. People fight because their leaders fight, and then their leaders are killed, so they have more reason to go on.” His hands touched mine as if he could not help but reach out. “Danica, my sister Irene is carrying a child. She was white with fear when she told me. It's an event that should bring joy … but everyone in my family just remembers an avian soldier plunging his knife into my oldest sister's swollen belly.” I started to speak, but he put a finger against my lips. “No apology is necessary from you, Danica.” Again the gentle caress of hands running through my hair as he explained, “I am going back to the royal hall tomorrow evening. My mother, sister and guards will not be there to argue with the Disa and me. I hope you'll be there, and that you'll listen to what she has to say. What she suggests … it might work. I'm just asking you to give the idea a chance.”

Giving that particular idea a chance sounded akin to giving suicide a chance, and I knew Zane saw my hesitation.

“Please, Danica,” he said. “You sang to my brother of peace and hope. I can't believe that
you aren't as desperate for those things as I am. Just … try.”

Somehow, I found myself nodding. “I will try,” I answered finally, struggling not to think of how Zane knew the details of those long hours on the battlefield. He ignored my uncertainty.

“Thank you.” He stepped forward so suddenly, his lips a brief, gossamer touch on my cheek, that I let out an unintended cry.

That shout, louder than our hushed voices, brought two of the Royal Flight instantly into the room.

Zane tensed, backing away from me as well as from my guards, and I could see his garnet eyes flashing as they looked for a way out. Insanely, I stepped between Zane and the Royal Flight, though Rei moved forward as if to stop me.

“There's no trouble here,” I assured him, my gaze cool with the warning not to challenge me on this point. “I was just about to escort Zane out, anyway.”

I felt Zane's tension lessen, but even so, the feel of him behind me made the feathers on the back of my neck rise.

“Zane?” I prompted, praying silently that he would not cause trouble now.

“Thank you for speaking with me at such a late hour, Danica,” Zane answered smoothly, his voice as polished as my own, betraying none of the emotion of moments ago. However, his
movements were cool and languid, almost lazy—dangerous. Everyone who had seen serpiente fight knew that they could strike as quickly as the snakes that were their second forms. They appeared so graceful and slow that you felt like you should have eternity to move, but you never did.

He was prepared to fight. Despite any noble words he might have said to his sister before she came to the Hawk's Keep, if the Royal Flight attacked him, he would fight back.

The posture almost made me refuse when he offered his arm, but his eyes still held a glimmer of hope, begging me to help him keep this from becoming a battle, so I swallowed my fear and forced myself to accept.

The guard on my side stepped back to allow us to pass, but Zane had to shoulder past Rei on his way out; the crow directed at Zane a look that would have wilted most enemies in their tracks. Instead, Zane caught Rei's glare, wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed me again.

I was too shocked at first to respond. In the time it took me to blink and Rei to stride forward with murder in his eyes, Zane had already stepped back, his gaze turning from Rei to me as he nodded a polite good evening, changed shape and disappeared.

Rei scanned the area around us as he demanded of me, “Are you all right?”

“He simply wanted to talk about tomorrow's discussion with the Disa,” I answered honestly. “He was perfectly polite.”

Rei looked skeptical, and the coolness in his tone as he asked, “Really?” reminded me that what he had seen had most certainly not been “perfectly polite.”