The Tears of Elios (2 page)

She lifted her head just in time to see a crossbow bolt embed itself into her prey’s chest, barely missed her cheek. She backed away, the Azekborn’s arm still clutched in her teeth. She tossed the limb at the other two hunters.
Who’s next?

The standoff dragged on for several long seconds. Behind her, the rush of the river sang a song of escape, if she could only reach it. She growled and continued to back away, already beginning her next shift. Feathers replaced her fur, and her body shrank. In less than a blink of an eye, she was up in the air, flapping her wings to quickly gain altitude. The leopard’s snarl morphed into the shrill call of a hawk that echoed off the canyon walls as she flew toward her freedom.

A crossbow bolt whizzed toward her from behind and buried into her wing. Her body stiffened in pain. The sharp rocks below raced toward her. With one final flap of her wings, she propelled herself forward and crashed into the trees on the other side of the river.

Her feathers melted away as she shifted back into her normal form and pulled the bolt out of her shoulder. The effort sent waves of pain throughout her body. She bit back a scream.

On the opposite side of the canyon, the two Azekborn stopped at the edge. She glared at them with satisfaction. Once again, she’d escaped them, but not completely unscathed this time.

Blood flowed from the wound in her shoulder, and the surrounding skin burned like hundreds of burning splinters had been buried into it. Hykona leaves would draw the poison out if she could find them this late in the year. Casting one more glance at her would-be hunters, she ran deeper into the snowy woods.

CHAPTER 2

An irritating trickle of moisture streaked down Gregor’s back. He shook his cloak out in frustration. Somehow, he missed the sapling in front of him, and its branches showered him with their freshly accumulated snow when he’d collided with it. He brushed the flakes off his book and resumed his simultaneous reading and walking.

Ahead, a large gray dog with loose wrinkled skin bounded through the drifts, his tail wagging with excitement. To the normal ear, the dog only barked, but Gregor could hear the dog’s thoughts. “
Snow! Snow! Snow!
”

Although he looked forward to his daily hike through the woods, the wind grew icy after half an hour. With a sigh, he closed his book and began to turn back to his house. He whistled for his dog to follow him, but Duke stood still in front of a small cave. “What do you see, boy?”

“
Deer-not-deer
,” came the gruff reply.

Gregor took a few steps forward, puzzled by the dog’s cryptic response. “What was that?”

Duke bounded over to him and yanked on his cloak. “
Deer-not-deer. Hurt. Come see
.”

Gregor stumbled forward. His toes had gone numb, and all he wanted to do was finish his translations in front of a nice warm fire. If he could somehow prove to the King that the Clearances could be harmful to the realm, maybe he could save both lives and knowledge. He couldn’t care less about a wounded deer.

What he found in the cave, however, was not what he expected. Fine fur like a doe’s covered the figure from its neck to its hands and feet, but the face and body were human. And the nude body was undeniably female. His face grew warm as he covered her breasts with his cloak and kneeled closer to examine her.

For a moment, he feared she was already dead, but he felt a weak pulse at her wrist and saw the shallow rise and fall of her chest. She was only sleeping. The wound on her left shoulder had bled profusely for a while, judging by the mounds of red-tinged leaves beside her. Hykona leaves with blackened edges protruded from the opening.

Duke licked her face, and she moaned. “
Take deer-not-deer home?
”

Gregor pushed his glasses up and leaned back on his heels as he studied her. She was unlike any other creature he’d ever seen. Her face was human with smooth skin, but a pair of distinctively elvan ears protruded from her wild tangle of brown hair. He peered closer. Were those feathers in her hair? He hesitated when he saw the nails shaped like claws on otherwise normal human hands. They could be dangerous weapons if she was truly as wild as she appeared.

Duke whimpered beside her. “
Deer-not-deer hurt
,” he reminded him.

“Yes, I can see that.” Gregor wished for once he couldn’t hear the dog’s thoughts. She needed help, but he worried about how she came by those injuries. And if what he’d read was correct, he was almost certain he’d found a shape-shifter. He’d been led to believe they’d been hunted to extinction decades ago. Would learning more about her race be worth the risk she posed? He’d almost faced the ax before for defying the king’s orders, and helping her would definitely earn him a death sentence. He rubbed his hands together to warm them as he pondered his options.

“Well, I can at least heal her.” He reached over the wounded shoulder. White light flowed from his palms in iridescent threads, but the wound didn’t heal. He frowned. This was unexpected. The only time he had ever seen a wound not healed by magic was when a person was already dead. He checked for her pulse again and found it still beating.

She moaned and reached for her left shoulder, eyes still closed. The gracefulness of the action mesmerized him. It surprised him that despite her wild appearance, there was something very regal about her. If he ignored the rest of her body and focused on her face, she was actually quite lovely in an odd sort of way. Her cheeks were soft and smooth, her lips full, although pale from her recent loss of blood. Thick lashes cast shadows under her eyes.

But the beauty of her face was marred when she parted her lips and revealed razor-sharp canines, destroying the warmth that had briefly flowed through his veins.

“
Deer-not-deer waking up?
” The dog began licking her arm.

“Let her rest.” Gregor rose from his desk and tugged on the loose skin around the dog's neck, trying to pry Duke away.

She groaned and turned her head in their direction.

Gregor froze. He should have known better than to expect anything normal about her. Golden irises covered most of the visible surface of her eyes like a hawk’s. When her gaze focused on him, the pupils constricted into slits, becoming more reptilian. A feral growl emanated from deep within her chest, and she curled her lips to flash her fangs.

He held her gaze as she scrambled back to the wall of the cave. She tensed, ready to pounce if approached, but her face grew more ashen with each breath. She didn’t have the strength yet to put up much of a fight, and some of his fear eased.

“I'm sorry to wake you,” he said, tightening his grip on the dog.

She never blinked when he spoke.

“I'm Gregor—Gregor Meritis. I—well, Duke here, actually—found you here.” His tongue flopped around in his mouth like he was an awkward youth asking a lady to dance for the first time.
Why should I fear her? I am a master mage, after all
. Once he tapped into his magic, his confidence returned. “I was trying to heal the wound on your shoulder.”

When he reached toward it, she lashed out with her right hand, swiping her claws across his arm. Another growl rose from the back of her throat as she scrambled up the cave wall to a standing position only to collapse in a crumbled heap before she took her first step.

Duke wrestled free from Gregor and ran to her limp form. She didn’t move as he nudged her with his nose.

Gregor examined his arm. The claws had drawn blood, but the wounds weren’t deep. Kitten scratches. “That went well.”

Duke looked up and thumped his tail on the cave floor.

“I suppose we should put her back in bed.” He lifted her off the ground and arranged her gangly limbs on the bed of leaves she’d made for herself in the cave, smoothing his cloak around her shoulders. She wasn’t so intimidating now. “Let's hope she's in a better mood the next time she wakes up.”

Next time?
He shook his head at where his thoughts were travelling. He should leave her as he found her. Everything about her screamed trouble.

But when he saw her wince in her sleep, his heart softened. She was hurt, and he knew how to help her. But first, he needed more hykona leaves. Judging by the mass of blackened leaves in her wound, she’d been hit by something tipped with poison, and he wouldn’t be able to heal her completely until he removed all traces of it.

He stepped back and surveyed the cave. She’d probably appreciated a fire, some warm clothes and maybe some food, too. A mental list formed in his mind, and he repeated the items under his breath over and over again on the way back to his house so he wouldn’t forget them. It wasn’t a commitment. Just give her a few things until she got on her feet again. Then she’d go back into the wild.

But a small sliver of his mind hoped she stayed a bit longer.

***

Night had fallen when Ranealya opened her eyes. Dancing flames illuminated the sides of the cave walls, and the smell of roasting meat turned her stomach into a growling beast. She sat up and let the fur blanket fall to her waist. Then she tested her left shoulder, cringing when she moved it. It hurt less than before, and the image of white magic and a man’s face flashed across her mind.

A log crackled in the fireplace, and she flinched. Her gaze darted around the area, looking for any signs of movement. A man sat across the fire, the same one she thought she’d dreamed up earlier. The one who called himself Gregor.

He feigned a yawn. “I guess it's time for me to go home.” When her gaze never wavered, he began to squirm under scrutiny. “There's some leftover quail here, if you're hungry. I mean, I'm sure you're hungry—but if you want something to eat—” He ran his fingers through his hair. “No one knows you're here, and I'm sure you prefer to keep it that way, so don't make too much noise or attack anybody or anything like that.”

His rambling amused her to no end. He was trying so hard to be brave in front of her. As if she could harm him. She couldn’t shift as long as the Azekborn’s poison flowed through her veins, and she was too weak to kill him. But he’d seen her in her natural state. Surely, he wasn’t so dense as to not know what she was. And as such, she needed to silence him. But why did the idea of his lifeless hazel eyes staring back her cause a deep ache in her chest? He was just a human, after all.

He approached her with caution slowing his movements, carrying fresh hykona leaves, water, and a soft cloth in his hands. He knelt beside her. When he removed some of the blackened leaves stuffed in her wound, she flinched and grabbed his arm, digging her nails into his flesh.

To his credit, he didn’t scream. His face tightened for a second before he drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “I need to clean the wound out,” he explained in a surprisingly calm voice. “The hykona leaves are black now.”

Her grip loosened, and her eyes flickered to her wound. So, he knew about healing. Perhaps he would prove useful after all. She could always delay his death long enough for him to finish healing her. A few seconds passed before she released him. Then she turned her head to the side, allowing him full access to the wound.

“So, you've finally realized I'm not trying to hurt you.” He removed the remaining leaves in one saturated clump, causing her to gasp. “Sorry, I—” He sponged the edge of the wound with a damp cloth, but she tensed further, waiting for the burning to ease.

He sighed and sat back on his heels. When she peeked back at him, his mouth formed a perfect circle. What did he find so fascinating about her? Then he shook his head and wiped his hand across his face. “Do you trust me to use magic on you? I can try to take the pain away, but I may end up causing you to fall asleep.”

She said nothing but loosened her grip on the fur blanket she’d been clutching the whole time.

His hand shook as he reached across her. At this angle, she could easily rip his throat out if he tried anything. Misty white light flowed from his fingers to the injured shoulder. The pain vanished, and a purr of appreciation vibrated deep in her chest. By the goddess, she hadn’t felt this relaxed in years.

He withdrew his hands and reached for the cloth. This time, she allowed him to work without interruption.

“What injured you?” When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Did you get into a fight?” He packed the wound with the leaves. “What kind of poison is this? Where did it come from?”

She snarled in response, and Gregor jumped back. He was asking far too many questions. The less his kind knew, the better.

“I think I may be able to heal it tomorrow, though.” He stood and held out a tunic. “I ask that you please—um—wear this. Even though you seem more animal than human, I can still tell that you're a female, and…”

His cheeks flushed in the firelight as he struggled to find the right words without embarrassing himself further. Despite his efforts, his eyes kept returning to her body. Did he really find her fur covered breasts attractive? When was the last time he saw a naked woman? Judging by his appearance, quite a while. Stubble covered his thin cheeks, and his pale brown hair hung loose, curling around his shoulders in a somewhat tangled mess that matched his wrinkled clothes. But underneath it all, he had a handsome face, as far as humans went. And the fact he didn’t find her repulsive almost made her feel sorry for what she needed to do to him eventually.

He draped the tunic over her body and shook his dog awake. “I suggest you put that on while the spell is still working so it isn't too painful. Duke and I will be back in the morning to check on you.”

He paused at the entrance of the cave and muttered something under his breath. A flash of blue filled the opening, leaving behind a filmy curtain in its wake.

Ranealya’s gut twisted. Just when she was beginning to think she might have found a human worth trusting, he locked her in this cave with a magical barrier. He probably wanted to keep her prisoner here until he returned with the Azekborn.