Daughter of Dusk (20 page)

She grabbed Pashla and Adele by the arm. “Don’t,” she said. “There’s many of them. You can’t face them all.”

Pashla’s face tightened with annoyance, and she shook off Kyra’s arm.

“Who goes there?” called a voice.

Kyra’s stomach plummeted. For better or worse, the soldiers were here.

Pashla gave Kyra a furious glare. A group of about twenty men picked their way toward them, and the Makvani no longer had the window of time they needed to change shape. Out of the corner of her
eye, Kyra saw Flick throw his cloak around Adele’s shoulders. It took Kyra a moment to realize what he was doing. Adele’s wraparound tunic was the easiest way to identify her as
Makvani, and Flick was covering up the evidence. Adele cast a suspicious glance toward him but kept the cloak around her shoulders.

One by one, the soldiers came into view. It wasn’t Flick’s unit, though like them, these soldiers lacked livery and wore the usual peasant garb of rough tunics and trousers. Despite
the lack of uniforms, these men were formidable looking, much tougher than what Kyra remembered from the training fields. They were well muscled, and they carried swords and spears with confidence.
A barrel-chested man stepped out to speak to them.

“Your names?”

Flick stepped out from behind her. “My name is Fyvie of Forge, good soldier,” he said. “These are my sisters Marla and Isabel, Laurie, and their companions.”

The soldier sized them up, and Kyra hoped desperately that Pashla and Adele wouldn’t decide to attack. They wouldn’t be so rash as to change shape in front of twenty soldiers, would
they? Next to her, Pashla lowered her eyes just the slightest bit. Was she trying to hide the amber in them?

“Your business?” asked the soldiers.

“Winter mushrooms,” said Flick. “They go for a fortune at the markets, and we used to have a good patch a little north of here. We thought we heard demon cats though, so
we’re cutting our losses. Best to leave here with our lives and no mushrooms than the other way around, right?” He gave the soldier a self-effacing grin.

The soldier released his hands from his scabbard. “You heard the roars too, then?”

“Aye,” said Flick. “Raised the hair on the back of my neck.”

The soldier jerked his head toward a man behind him. “Nyles almost got one this morning. Stuck it good in the shoulder, but the beast got away.” Pashla stiffened, but the man
didn’t seem to notice. “Best to pick someplace to forage that doesn’t put you in the path of fighting. His Grace doesn’t want people in the forest these days.”

His Grace,
Kyra thought wryly. Not even
the Council
. The soldier was referring directly to Willem as if he were Duke of Forge. That didn’t bode well.

The soldier waved them on their way, and Flick started walking in the direction of the main road. The rest of them followed. When the soldiers were no longer in view, Kyra let out a sigh of
relief.

“Those are the soldiers you’ve been telling me about?” asked Pashla. She stared back in their direction, her gaze calculating.

“Aye,” said Kyra. The clanswoman didn’t seem as dismissive of the troops now that she’d seen them. Kyra wondered if this morning’s fighting might have changed her
mind. “Pashla, I know Leyus doesn’t want to see me, but those soldiers could be a real threat to you. Can you please let me speak with him just once?”

In the ensuing silence, Kyra found herself wishing again that the clanswoman wasn’t so hard to read. Finally Pashla gave the slightest of nods. “I’ll bring you to Leyus, though
he will not be happy with me.”

Kyra celebrated a brief moment of triumph before she remembered Flick, Idalee, and Lettie. “I should see my friends safely out of the forest first.”

“Bring them,” said Pashla. “There are those in the clan who are curious to see more of the humans.”

Curious? Kyra wasn’t about to risk her family’s life to satisfy some Makvani’s curiosity.

Her hesitation must have shown, because Pashla spoke again, exasperated this time. “We are not barbarians,” she said. “We do not hunt humans for sport. They will be under my
protection.”

“We’ll come,” said Idalee. When Kyra looked at her, she shrugged. “Every time we try to go somewhere safer, it just gets worse. At least Pashla says she’ll protect
us.”

Kyra looked to Flick and then Lettie, who nodded in turn. “So be it,” Kyra said.

Pashla set off without further comment, leading them through the trees. As they walked, Adele unclasped Flick’s cloak and handed it wordlessly back to him.

“You don’t get cold?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

Kyra bit back a grin as she watched Flick waver between his usual inclination to insist she keep it and his suspicion that Adele would kill him if he argued. He took back the cloak.

After a while, Pashla asked them to wait while she and Adele changed shape. Once in her fur, Pashla threw her head skyward and roared. There was a distant roar in response. Pashla’s ears
perked toward the sound, and she loped off in that direction. Adele was a slender shadow next to her, almost flowing over the snow. Kyra noticed the black cat’s eyes going often to Flick as
they traveled, and Kyra surreptitiously inserted herself between the two of them. Pashla might have promised to watch over him, but a few extra precautions wouldn’t hurt.

Eventually, Kyra spotted shapes through the trees. She recognized Leyus by his height and commanding posture. In the light of day, he was less frightening, though no more approachable. The clan
leader stood talking to Havel and Zora, the Demon Riders who had come upon Kyra in the field. There were others scattered throughout the trees in their skin and their fur—fewer than twenty
total, but that wasn’t surprising. The Makvani came together only when necessary. Adele sniffed the air as they approached, then left them to join the others.

Kyra looked to see how her friends were holding up. Lettie held tightly to Idalee’s hand, staring unabashedly at the Demon Riders. Idalee’s jaw was set in a stubborn line, and Flick
stayed protectively close to the two girls, one arm loosely resting on each of their shoulders. Around them, the Makvani started to notice the humans. They didn’t approach, but they certainly
looked, and whispered to each other.

“You’d better be right about us being under your protection,” Kyra muttered to Pashla. She thought she saw Pashla’s ears twitch in response.

Leyus’s mouth tightened in displeasure when Kyra came closer. He turned to Pashla. “Why did you bring her here?”

“I’m here with a message from Forge,” Kyra said as Pashla regained her human form. “I’m sure you’ve seen troops in the forest already. They’re just the
first step of preparation for a forest offensive meant to hunt all your people down, and it will surely result in unnecessary deaths on both sides. The Defense Minister asks you to consider
negotiating peace.”

“I’ve seen one of these so-called units in the forest,” said Leyus. “We have nothing to fear from them.”

Flick’s group hadn’t impressed Kyra either, though the unit this morning had looked more formidable. “You’re right that many of them are untrained,” she said.
“But they outnumber you by far, and eventually they’ll overwhelm you with their numbers.”

Something registered in the back of her mind, and Kyra took a closer look at two demon cats lounging beneath a nearby tree. One beast was lying down, and Kyra saw that blood matted its fur. The
other was licking the injured cat’s shoulder, cleaning the wound as Pashla had done before for Kyra.

“How did that cat get injured?” asked Kyra.

Leyus followed her gaze. “That is none of your concern.”

“He was wounded by humans, wasn’t he?” said Kyra, plunging ahead. “Though the humans were weak, their spear struck true.”

“Enough.” The edge in Leyus’s voice was sufficient to make Kyra stop. “The soldiers present no danger, and your city insults us with their quality.” Leyus turned to
Pashla. “Take them back to where they came from.”

Pashla bowed, running three fingers down the front of her throat. Before Kyra could say anything more, Leyus and his two companions disappeared into the trees.

“Leyus has spoken,” said Pashla.

“But—” Kyra began. The clanswoman silenced her with a glance. Kyra swallowed her words and followed. The others fell into step behind her.

The injured demon cat growled as they passed. Kyra thought it was growling at them but then realized that its ire was directed toward the beast tending its wound. Adele was with them.
She’d changed back into her skin, and she called Pashla’s name, followed by a string of words Kyra could not understand. Pashla circled back and nudged the standing demon cat aside so
she could crouch next to the injured one.

“The muscle is torn, but it will heal,” said Pashla. “Just keep cleaning her wound.”

Flick reached into his belt pouch. “I have herbs,” he said. “To help with the bleeding and the pain.” He held a handful of dried moss out to the clanswomen. Adele eyed
the herbs but didn’t take them until Pashla nodded her reassurance. The younger clanswoman moved as if to apply the herbs to the wound but hesitated.

Flick spoke hesitantly. “I was taught to crumble some onto the wound and use the rest to press it in.” He scooted closer but stopped when Adele jerked away. “Sorry,” he
said.

Adele handed the moss back to him. “You apply it,” she said.

Flick caught Kyra’s eye. She shrugged, unsure how to advise him. It seemed unwise to refuse, but tending to a wounded demon cat definitely carried its own risks. Flick drew a long breath,
then did as Adele asked, crumbling the moss over the wound and then carefully, very carefully, pressing the moss to the demon cat’s shoulder. Kyra slumped with relief when the creature
didn’t bite Flick’s hand off. Flick signaled for Adele to replace his hands with hers, then sat back on his heels.

An older Demon Rider pointed to Lettie and asked Pashla a question. Kyra took a protective half step toward the girl.

“He says she looks like Libena,” Pashla said, and gestured toward a very young demon cat in the shadows. Kyra recognized Libena’s yellow fur and large eyes and spotted
Libena’s younger brother Ziben behind her. She’d met these two the last time she’d been with the Makvani.

The kittens stared at Lettie, who stared right back at them. Slowly, Libena crept closer until she stood just a few steps in front of Lettie. The kitten’s head came to the same height as
the girl’s. Kyra watched them carefully, ready at any moment to snatch Lettie back. Libena sniffed at the air, while Lettie continued to stand completely still. Kyra found herself holding her
breath. Strangely, it reminded her of the time she’d given Lettie a handful of grain and let her stand in the square for birds to land on her.

Suddenly, the demon kitten whirled around and ran back into the trees. Her brother followed quickly behind.

Pashla watched all this quietly and then signaled for Flick to stand up. “Let us go,” she said. “I’ll see you safely out of the forest.”

F O U R T E E N

T
he magistrate had a way of keeping one eye on Tristam as he wrote, nailing him with a suspicious gaze even as he simultaneously made notes on his
desk. It was all Tristam could do to maintain his act under this unnerving scrutiny. He was fortunate, at least, that he was being questioned in the magistrate’s study rather than the
interrogation rooms, and that for the past week he’d been under house arrest instead of in the Palace dungeons.

The magistrate stopped writing and lifted his parchment up to read, careful of the drying ink. This particular official wasn’t one of Willem’s lapdogs, though he wasn’t overly
sympathetic to Malikel’s cause either. “I have your official statement, Tristam,” he said. “You admit to working alongside Kyra of Forge, but you maintain that you had no
knowledge of her identity as a Demon Rider until the night of Sir Santon’s murder. Furthermore, you have no knowledge of her current whereabouts. Do you swear to this?”

“I do.”

It was clear from the way the men around Tristam exchanged disgusted looks that they didn’t believe him—not the magistrate, with his piercing gaze; not the Red Shields by the door,
placed there “for his safety”; and certainly not Head Councilman Willem, watching the proceedings from his spot against the wall. But they had no evidence against him and more important
targets to go after. The magistrate raised a questioning glance to Willem. “If Your Grace finds no problem with my report, I will declare him free to go.”

Willem drummed long fingers on the table. “Your report is satisfactory, but I’ll have a private word with Tristam before he’s released.”

“Very well, Your Grace.” The magistrate addressed Tristam. “You will resume your normal Red Shield duties after your release. Any special tasks you’ve been undertaking
for the Defense Minister are, of course, suspended until we are sure of his role in this matter.”

The magistrate gathered his things and left, followed by the Red Shield guards. The door clicked shut behind them, and Tristam didn’t move as he waited for Willem to speak.

Willem fixed a stern gaze on Tristam. “I won’t keep you long. I know you’ve never been fond of me or my policies.” He brushed away Tristam’s clumsy attempt at
contradicting him. “I simply want to suggest you keep an open mind. You must realize by now that your commander is accused of some very serious lapses in judgment.”