Shift of Shadow and Soul (SoulShifter Book 1) Page 11

  Coren heard none of the words spoken between the brothers, but she heard the tent slap open and steps move away. She knelt up on the bed, readying herself to sprint if the wrong brother returned.

  She had no desire to meet Reshra again. Although he hadn’t even come near enough to touch her, he had whispered, “Do not harm my brother, or I will tell everyone exactly what you are.”

  The threat still echoed in the air like a swinging blade, and Coren fought the urge to duck and run from whatever evil thing he might have decided she was. Perhaps she was self-centered in her reasoning, but she believed the power to harm lay solely with these two handsome, privileged brothers - one light like the morning sun, and one dark like the crescent moon.

  She felt like the sand, with no power at all, or the shadows, which were only a consequence of the games between light and dark.

  Coren pushed aside these thoughts and tried to relax when she saw Sy press aside the divider wall.

  “He’s gone. I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at her, then quickly away. Indeed, his eyes landed on everything in the room except her. He was clearly uncertain what to do with her in his space, and Coren was surprised to find she did have a strange sort of power here, in his bed.

  It wasn’t the sort of power a girl like her had ever wielded, and it made her just as nervous as he seemed to be.

  She tucked her legs beneath her, making room for him. Still, he hesitated, and she used the seconds to examine the dagger strung at his belt, the strong shoulders under a summer-thin shirt. His hair hid his eyes with choppy, sun-glinted waves, and his jaw was sharply drawn with the shadow of scruff.

  Finally he sat at the opposite end of the bed, still avoiding her gaze.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the cove earlier,” she said. “It was too hard to lie to the twins. I’m still not sure Kosh believed me. But my friend Maren will watch them tonight. You smell of the sea,” she added.

  “Sorry,” Sy said quickly, jumping up and shrugging his shirt over his head. He turned his back to her and grabbed a cloth. Wetting it with water from a jug, he scrubbed at his skin.

  Coren watched him, biting back a grin. “It’s not a bad smell,” she said, careful to make her voice gentle.

  He turned toward her, and their eyes locked. She immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

  The ridges and planes of his chest held a beauty all their own, and against her will, her fingers slid across the blankets toward him. Would his skin be as smooth as it looked?

  Flushing, she corralled her hand beneath her leg. “Sorry. I just meant…I mean. You can sit,” she finished awkwardly. No wonder Sorenta had warned her away from the hunts. This was horrible.

  She’d much rather be running on the open plains, her whip flashing into the tall grass.

  “No, I’m just…sorry.” Syashin pulled a clean shirt from a bag, but sagged down next to her without putting it on. “I’d rather face a whole flock of Vespas than feel like I’m forcing you into anything,” he said, his eyes finally meeting hers again.

  Coren sighed. At least they had that much in common. “It’s not your fault. It’s these stupid hunts. Our traditions and rules. All of it is stupid. I mean, haven’t you ever wanted more?”

  “More?” he repeated.

  She sighed again, leaning her head against the tent behind her. “No, you wouldn’t, I guess. You can travel as you like, do what you want. You’re First Son. You can do anything.” She closed her eyes against the injustice of the truth.

  “And you think you can do nothing?” Sy asked, realizing the accusation lacing her words. He wanted to contradict her, but he knew she couldn’t possibly understand how trapped he was as First Son.

  She flopped back onto the pillow, sliding her legs under the blanket. Her legs were inches from his now, separated only by the thin fabric. “I’m trapped here, Sy.”

  Those words, repeated on her lips, and something about the way she shortened his name, made him full to bursting. He wanted to fix every problem she’d ever had, but even as the emotion swept through him, he knew it was ridiculous.

  She was just as capable as he was. They were just separated and trapped by the Weshen ways.

  “We can change it,” he whispered. “Together. If we both have magic, then maybe the Magi are reversing the Sacrifice…maybe it’s time for Weshen to reclaim its place.” He didn’t agree with Resh on many things, but there wasn’t a man in Weshen City who hadn’t wished it were time to fight the Restless King for their rights again.

  And just maybe, if he could find the perfect time to speak to his father, he could show him that magic had returned to the Weshen.

  Then they would be free to fight the king and rescue their people languishing in Riata, like the Wesh slaves the General was leaving to die.

  “We’re on the edge of a cliff,” Corentine answered, her soft voice interrupting his thoughts as she stared into the candle’s yellow flame as it flickered shapeless shadows onto the walls. “We’ll all go into the sea if we shift the wrong rock.”

  He was about to ask what she meant when he heard steps from the next room. Resh had returned, and Sy doubted he would leave them alone. He slid down and parallel to Corentine, blocking her from whatever was coming. Her palm landed on his bare chest, as though to shove him away, but she didn’t.

  “Well, big brother.” Resh’s presence filled the room, almost seeming to snuff out the spare light. “I see you have an idea of what comes after the hunt. Don’t worry, Coren. I’m sure you two can muddle through what goes where. Even creatures do it, you know.”

  Sy half-twisted in the bed and threw a vulgar curse over his shoulder, and Resh laughed, but he left.

  Turning back, he realized Corentine was shaking, her fingernails curled into his skin like tiny half-moon blades. He cursed again, but softer, his hand hovering over her, unsure what to do. “What is it? I’m sorry - he’s gone.”

  She raised her head from the pillow then, and her smile lit the room. Shaking with silent laughter, she flipped onto her back, her head much closer to the crook of his arm. Something had shifted in these few seconds, and his head was spinning with confusion.

  “This is so ridiculous,” she managed, pressing at her eyes, her smile fading. “What our people have been reduced to. Look, Sy. My mother taught me from birth to avoid the hunts. There are many reasons why I can’t go back on my promise to her. I won’t even be trying to give you an heir. But I promise to pretend here with you for as many nights as are needed, and I can even pretend to be with child for your father, too. I owe you that much, and more.”

  “But then next summer, when there is no child…” He didn’t want to say what they both knew.

  “Of course I’ll be shamed. But that’s nothing new. I’ll be too old to run in the hunts then, but I have other ways to take care of myself and my own.” There was a resolution in her eyes and the set of her lips that spoke of a will so great it could change the world, and Sy marveled again at her strength.

  “Your family is lucky to have you,” he whispered. His hand landed between them, the backs of his fingers brushing against her side. The fabric of her dress was warm with her body’s heat.

  “You are noble,” she said then, glancing sidelong at him. “Lorenya told me that. Yes, I sought her out,” she smiled when he startled at the name. “Sy, if anyone can change Weshen for the better, I think it would be you. You’ve had every opportunity to treat me how they expect you to, yet you haven’t. That should be enough for me to help you win your father’s approval.”

  He noticed she used should, rather than is, showing her continuing hesitance. “I’d be nobler if I didn’t have to ask you to lie for me.”

  “But you’re not asking me to lie with you. That’s a key difference, and I promise I’ll remember it.” She closed her eyes, and he marveled as her face relaxed into a different sort of beauty. Carefree, in a way her open eyes never were. He marveled at how she allowed his presence, as though she had begun to trust h
im.

  She certainly hadn’t let down the fierce guard she kept around her life, but at least she had ceased the offensive.

  Several minutes passed with only the sounds of the ocean at night, and Sy found his eyes growing heavy. He reached over to pinch out the candle, then rested his head back on the pillow, Corentine’s slim body still a few careful inches from his, and he slept.

  When he woke later, it was still dark and quiet, but the space beside him was empty and cold.

  Chapter 12

  Coren wandered the beaches of Weshen Isle alone for several hours after slipping away from Sy’s tent.

  She tried over and over to pull the water into ribbons or to move even one grain of sand. She tried to imagine taking a creature apart, not with a knife as Kosh did, but with her mind. She tried to figure out how to shrink her bones and make her reflection in the black water resemble her memory.

  But she might sooner figure out how to fly up and touch the stars above.

  Whatever magic had swirled awake in her blood was unresponsive and useless, except when she was in danger. But after watching Sy and Maren use their power, it was obvious she should be able to control her shifting, instead of it controlling her. She wanted answers, and she didn’t want to wait a minute more.

  She couldn’t very well ask Sy tonight, with Resh keeping such careful watch. Which left Maren. Determined not to let the old woman sidestep her questions any more, Coren turned and hurried home.

  Maren was there, having spent the night to watch over the twins, and she was awake, sitting at the kitchen table as though waiting. Coren nodded at her, then padded to the beds where Kosh and Penna slept peacefully, kissed them both gently, and returned to the kitchen. Two warm mugs rested on the table, the scent of lemondrine and salt wafting through the early morning air.

  “I need to know everything,” Coren began.

  Maren only smiled and sipped her tea, each movement agonizingly slow. “The cloaking spell will be ready tomorrow evening, at moonrise,” she answered, finally resting the mug on the worn wooden table.

  “What if I don’t want the magic to be cloaked?” Coren asked, the edge of a dare entering her mind. What if there were others like her, confused and also thinking they were alone? She could show the General, and he could contact the elders in Weshen City. He could tell the people, and their world could change with just a few words.

  “It must be cloaked,” Maren said, breaking into her wild thoughts. “Ashemon will not believe in the return of shifter magic to your family. He believes your family is cursed, and he’s waiting for his own.”

  “His own what?” Coren asked, running a finger over the rim of her mug, trying to conjure a separation of salt from the water inside. What would the power feel like, if she could control it?

  “Ashemon has always assumed his family will see the return of shifter magic first. Once, an elder told him the Magi would honor his family, so he’s waiting for his First Son to receive the shifter magic.”

  Coren opened her mouth to inform Maren that Sy had indeed received his magic first, but then she thought again of Jyesh. Her brows drew together in confusion.

  “Ashemon even planned it this way,” Maren continued.

  “Planned?” Coren realized Maren was trying to tell her something, and she focused her gaze on the old woman.

  “His First Son was not conceived in a random hunt. He hails from two very powerful bloodlines.”

  She fixed a heavy gaze on Coren, who blinked several times as she ran through the short list of once-powerful shifter families. Many had been wiped out in the battles with the king. Sy couldn’t be related to her family, or they would never have been allowed to run in the hunts together. That left…

  “Ashemon took our son to the mainland several years early to better monitor any magic that may develop.”

  “Your son…” Coren whispered. “Syashin Havenash is your son?”

  Maren looked away, her silence the answer Coren needed. But the trace of a smile drew her cheeks back. Weshen women had once been proud of their abilities to both hunt and produce hunters, to wield magic and produce magis.

  “With the General?” Coren sputtered, shoving her chair from the table and pacing to the window above the sink. The moon still hung in the sky like a lopsided grin, but the night was fading into pale blue-gray. “But…but Neshra!”

  “Neshra was before, and Neshra was after as well. There are layers upon layers of secrecy and plotting here, Corentine.” Maren’s voice held a sharp warning. “The General’s family knew the Sacrifice was necessary. But they never stopped working to be ready for the reversal. Ashemon knew nothing of my cloaking spell, but he knew the magic had once swirled in my blood, just as in his family’s. Sorenta would have had nothing to do with him, and so he approached me. Together, we made an agreement. A trade.”

  “Does he have magic still?” Coren nearly growled, thinking of how his father, the previous General, had banished her brother.

  “No, it was sacrificed, along with everyone else’s. His family is powerful in other ways. But Syashin does have magic, doesn’t he?” Maren smiled in satisfaction.

  Coren stared at her. “Have you known all this time?”

  “Of all the things I have done, Syashin is my highest accomplishment,” she said, slanting her eyes toward Coren. “And I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I would never want to influence your feelings for him.”

  Coren had no idea how to respond. To think she had once been a child with Sy…that he might have played in the same yard as Kosh and Penna often did. The ripples of this revelation were more than her brain could understand. “What was your agreement with the General?” she asked instead.

  “I would provide him an heir, and he would never banish one of my family.”

  “Including your heir, who was likely to have magic,” Coren guessed.

  “Precisely.”

  “But that courtesy didn’t extend to my family. Wouldn’t extend to me now,” she added, coming back to sit across from Maren. “Why doesn’t he remember? Why don’t I remember him? He would have been at your house when Mother took me there!” Her brain was stuck on the missing memories.

  “The memory spell is perfect, my dear. You two don’t even remember what you don’t remember. But yes, he spent his first few years chasing stormcloud chickens in my yard, just as Kosh and Penna do now.”

  Again, Coren felt as if the earth beneath her was cracking. One of them had indeed moved the wrong rock, and entire pieces were breaking off and splashing into the sea.

  “Why wouldn’t Sorenta have given Ashemon a child?” she asked, needing more specific answers to help her comprehend this twisting truth.

  “She and Kashar always felt more strongly about the role of love in the existence of magic. Sorenta didn’t believe such a plan would work.” Maren’s smile was smug, and Coren shook her head a little at the memory of her iron-willed mother. If kept secrets were a sort of magic, Sorenta had left her a powerful inheritance, indeed.

  “I wish I knew the rest of her story,” Coren said. Regardless what shifter magic rested in her veins, learning these stories had certainly begun to invoke a taste for that power in her, enough that she wanted more.

  “Sorenta rarely spoke of her family or her time in Riata. She was much like you. Strong and silent.”

  And wrong about so many things, Coren thought. “What of this can I tell Sy?” she asked, itching with the need to discuss these revelations with someone who might understand the sliding feeling of learning so many secrets at once.

  “These are your stories now, too. Tell them to whomever you wish, but know that stories can have as much power as magic.”

  Coren nodded, a promise to be careful. Maren had protected her for years, and she knew the woman always would. Knowing she was Sy’s mother…certain things about the First Son made so much more sense now. “Thank you, Maren. I owe you so much.”

  “You owe me nothing. One day, I think, we’ll all owe you
our lives. You and Syashin…you were made for great things.”

  Coren smiled even as she shook her head. “I’ll be happy enough here, watching Kosh and Penna grow. Being an old chicken lady with you.”

  Maren’s eyes grew distant, and sadness pulled at her brow. “My dear. Your blood was not created to be enough. It was created to be everything. Although it’s true that the magic never left Weshen completely, it’s also true that the world believes it did. And when the foundation of people’s beliefs shakes, so does the foundation of the world.”

  “What do you mean?” Coren asked.

  “I mean things will change soon. The signs are here. The General sees them. The Matron does too, even if she does not tell us. Surely the Sulit witches see everything. And somewhere in the bowels of his cold stone castle, the Restless King also has the power to see.”

  Several minutes of silence passed between the two women. Sunlight had begun to slant in through the window, across the swept floor in a prism of light.

  “I need to find Sy,” Coren said, realizing that these secrets were just as important as her learning to hide or control her magic. Maren nodded, her eyes carrying an old sadness that Coren could see had been made plain and fresh once more.

  Sy sat at the table outside his tent, trying to enjoy the morning sun and the simple pleasure of another good meal.

  But things had changed, and the biscuits, honey, and yogurt did little to curb the hunger Corentine’s presence had awoken. It wasn’t just that he imagined holding her close, his hands on her smooth skin.

  After last night, he did want more. More from the world, more from his people, and more from himself.

  “Sy!” The whispered call was right and wrong all at once. Corentine had left his tent in the night, but sneaked back this morning. It wasn’t normal, and anything out of the usual pattern could be dangerous if people saw. Still, he rose quickly enough to knock over his stool and greeted her with a smile as open as the horizon.

  “I have things to tell you,” she said in a low voice as she neared. She glanced around, skittish and careful, and his smile faltered.