A riveting coming of age story about an orphaned dracon shifter's struggle to control her own fate.
"Black as a moonless night, might makes right," Joel whispered the old saying under his breath. His fingers clenched around my wrist before he releas...
Rain poured in sheets, pitting the snow packed against the sides of the buildings. A flash of movement caught my eye. I spun, hand touching the dagger at my hip. Plain steel, a good deterrent for would be thieves but not for another dae.
For starters, my magic melted or shattered steel as the mood struck. I needed magic bound blades made with sentirus ore – pricey, but impossible to melt. Endellion and Grandfather confiscated all of mine save my sword after Endellion nicked her finger on one and ended up magicless for an hour. They overreacted.
Magus bane, the first Iver family specialty I learned from my ancestor's journals, only killed when combined with another poison. Hemlock, castor beans, oleander, arsenic, and a sea snail indigenous to my family's ancient seat Shadow's Redoubt, all reportedly worked well. By itself, nonlethal magus bane simply bought time, which didn't stop Endellion from shrieking like a banshee. Grandfather demanded all my blades then counted them as he placed them in his office safe. When I broke into his safe that night, they were already gone. After a three hour lecture on honor, he returned my sword for lessons, but I hadn't seen my knives in weeks.
Foolish. There's no honor in death.
Ice water dripped down my arm and soaked into the waistband of my pants. A growl echoed from a nearby alley.
Eyes narrowed, I reached inside my core and slipped the bindings on my magic. Raw power flooded my senses. It drowned my rational mind in an instinctive haze as my magic swept out around me like fog rising from the river, but black. A warning and a challenge.
My heart beat pounded in my ears. Half a second to shift. Another three before I sank my claws into the soft belly of my prey, felt its blood pool in my mouth, and revealed myself for what I really was – an apex predator masquerading as a girl. The cloud brushed against the creature. Connected.
Hunger, cold, then mind-numbing fear. A stray dog, not another dae. I laughed at myself.
The 5101 red fever plague wiped out a quarter of Vinetta's population, starting with the storied bloodlines and trickling down. Of six thousand Iver blood vassals and family, I could count the Vinettan survivors on one hand. Grandfather and myself.
The Border Guard still held trials here, sending a lord or lady-class overseer to recruit soldiers, farmers, metal smiths, and the occasional teacher, but no sealers – the rune smith warriors who once crafted the gates and split the world into hundreds of pieces – or healers who combined runes with alchemy. Red fever killed them first.
Without them, Vinetta was just another backwater world with a bloody history.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled my magic back inside myself, coiling the black tendrils back around my center. Push, squirm, beg. My instincts warred with my rational mind, demanding I shift and hunt down my prey. I balled my hands into fists. Claws dug into my palms, drawing blood.
When did I shift into my half-state? Partial or full?
Didn't matter, I thought as I conjured memories of hunting on Grandfather's estate. Succulent boar, venison, brown trout fresh from the river – all suitable meals. Mangy mutt infested with parasites and covered in excrement, not so much. Tension bled out of me as the blood lust receded.
I mentally prodded the pulsing point on my left shoulder and forced my body back into my human form. Mostly. I knew if I took my shoes off, I'd find clawed toes and pearlescent scales dotting my ankles. I lost the ability to shift back completely when I was sixteen. Endellion said as long as my power exceeded my control I wouldn't regain it. It didn't matter as long as I wore shoes.
My hands dropped to my sides. I started to dry my pants, but thought better of it. No sense in drying myself off when I still had another two blocks to go. Instead, I hunched my shoulders and drew my hood further over my face.
The deluge drummed on my shoulders, pressing my hood flush against the back of my neck. An alley appeared in my mind's eye. Brick walls, empty ale casks stacked by a wooden door – a rope substituted for a handle. Waves pounded against the nearby dock in a steady rhythm.
Magic seeped out of my fingertips, jet black threads twisting around me. Three seconds and a quick teleport would land me at Fecked Mick's back door. A little magic and the sole guard would forget when I entered. No worries about anyone asking me how I dried off so quickly or how I acquired a violin when I entered without one. Far better than entering through the front where everyone could see me. Provided, I caught whoever was working the front door before their shift ended. It simply wouldn't do if someone asked how I entered the alley from a dead end street without walking past the front door.
"Stupid," a choir-like voice whispered in my mind.
I stiffened. When? Why didn't I notice? My mind was my own. No gate should be able to link with me without my consent, not even the Central Keystone.
"Stupid," Selim's singular tenor repeated his gate's admonition, "teleporting with blood dripping off your hands. You should know better." Selim paused."Unless you want to summon me. Is that your game, young one? To reveal yourself by publicly summoning the Border Guard's strongest gate before Mitchel-dae or Aunt Endellion make other arrangements? Is this how you respect our sacrifices?"
I winced at Selim's words. Endellion risked her freedom for me. Uncle Manfred and Grandfather risked their lives as did the Central Keystone's over soul Selim and every guardian who trained me. Hiding me from the Border Guard was high treason.
But they didn't do it for me, I reminded myself. They all wanted something. They didn't help me for free, not even Endellion and Grandfather. Still, I was alive because they took the risk.
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