Asra shouldn’t have been so surprised to find out that Nolan was recruiting monsters to aid him now.
At first Asra believed it might have been a shapechanger. She didn’t know of any other giant canids running around. But then she saw the silver ring in its nose, and the silver piercings lining the ears that were too big for its head. It couldn’t have all of this silver on it and still be in fur if it was a shapechanger.
This was an enemy.
The beast advanced toward Asra on impossibly tall legs, its fur raising into a thick black crest along its back. It was here to stop her from killing Nolan, but Asra wouldn’t let it. She threw herself at it, her jaws poised to tear its throat, but at the last second a black paw nearly the size of her head smacked her aside. She slid to a halt, her claws creating deep grooves in the earth, then launched forward again, this time aiming for a front leg. The monster dodged to the side and Asra careened into a tree.
Her head swam and her legs quivered, but she forced herself up and shot towards the beast once more. Asra aimed for its throat, but it lowered its head, and Asra instead caught its ear. She wrenched her head upward and felt cartilage shatter and tear. The beast roared and pawed at its torn ear, and Asra took the opportunity to latch onto the back of its neck. Fresh blood poured into her mouth, coppery and warm, and she shook her head, hoping to snap its neck. The monster rose up onto its hind legs and threw itself backward onto the ground, on top of Asra.
The pain that flooded her as she slammed onto her wounded side was all consuming, and she lay there dazed and gasping for air, forcing herself to stay conscious through the agony. Before Asra could gather herself, the animal was on her, pressing its paw down on her trachea. She struggled to breathe. She kicked and snapped her jaws, but she was too weak to do any damage. Her vision blurred, her head swam, and the world faded from view.
----------------------------------------
The cot Asra awoke on was stiff and rickety, but it was a nice change of pace from sleeping on the ground the last few weeks. She kept her eyes closed for a few moments, relishing in the small comfort before she’d have to face reality again. The pleasant scent of herbs, the warm air, how soft the sheets were against her bare skin …
Her eyes shot open. Why wasn’t she still in her fur? Heart pounding, she ripped the linens away to examine her side. It ached like she’d been beaten with a club, but the wounds had healed, leaving only delicate scars in their wake. She breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t been torn in half.
She racked her mind for the last thing that happened to her. There was the dragon, the tunnel, Ciaran telling her to stay put while he went into town … It got fuzzy after that. She’d heard that odd roar and tried to find someplace safer to rest, then she’d been cornered by Nolan, and then …
Asra cursed herself. Of course that hadn’t been Nolan. That was Ciaran. How much of her memories had been real? And where were Ciaran and Bane now? She chewed her lip. Had she hurt either of them in her frenzy?
She took a deep breath. First things first: she needed to figure out where she was.
Asra glanced around the small tent. Her cot was on one end, a bucket of water next to a portable wash basin and a sleeping sack on the other end. A worn wooden chest lay at the head of the sleeping sack. Sunlight filtered through the cloth and warmed Asra’s skin. Whoever brought her here must have been an ally—this was a far cry from a prison or jail.
Light flooded in as the entrance flap opened. A short, pale woman entered and said, “Well, rise and shine, hellhound. Glad to see you back with the living.”
Asra narrowed her eyes as she tried to determine where she knew this woman from. Black hair that was shorter on the sides, ears and face full of piercings, dressed in a leather duster and plain trousers and blouse …
It was the woman from the spell apothecary.
“So it was you who was following us,” Asra said.
The woman grinned, a carefree gesture that would have put Asra at ease in any other situation. “Sure was. You guys are fast. Couldn’t catch up with you in between deliveries.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Margot. Margot Kobayashi.”
She extended a hand, but Asra didn’t take it. It was a human name, and handshakes were a human custom. The woman shrugged and headed to the wash basin to clean her hands, removing her rings on the way.
“What happened to that monster?” Asra asked.
The woman grimaced as she poured water into the basin. “Monster? That’s a bit harsh. ’Specially coming from you.”
Asra furrowed her brow. What was she missing?
She pictured the beast in her head. Stilt-like black legs, a rusty orange body, a black crest of fur on the neck, ears comically large for its head. As the woman dried her hands on a towel, Asra saw the flash of blue sigils emblazoned against her pale skin, no longer hidden by the spell in one of her rings.
Asra’s eyes widened. “You have fur.”
“Of course I do.”
“Maned wolf.”
“Obviously.”
“But you have a human name.”
Margot shrugged. “We don’t have any fancy naming conventions like the rest of you. We spend too much time around humans. It’s easier to have a name that blends in.”
Asra ran through the events again, trying to find any excuse for how stupid of a mistake she’d made. “But you had silver piercings in. You couldn’t have been in your fur.”
Margot gave her a pitying look, as though it was sad she had to explain something so obvious. “Hun … they’re not silver. They’re titanium.”
Asra blinked. Swallowed. Blinked again. Then:
“Oh.”
The woman sighed and said, “I had a few less piercings after dealing with you. Took forever to get this hole to heal back up nicely.” She pointed to the large hoop on her right ear. There was a bumpy scar there that indicated it had been ripped out.
“Took me forever to get you healed up, too,” Margot continued. “Infection had nearly spread to your bloodstream. Drove you nuts, apparently. Good thing I got there when I did. That dumbass out there was trying to reason with you when I finally caught up with you.”
The tension in Asra’s shoulders eased. At least Ciaran was alive and seemingly unharmed.
“Had to keep you sedated while I fixed you up,” Margot continued. “Once the infection was under control, I was able to get you fixed up. Hope you don’t mind the silver.” She nodded her head to the bracelet on Asra’s wrist. “Wasn’t sure what kind of mood you’d be in when you woke up. Didn’t want you going for my throat again.”
“Sorry,” Asra mumbled.
Margot smiled. “I’m just lucky you were half dead. You would have kicked my ass. I’ve heard you hounds are tough but I’ve never fought one of you before.” She flopped down onto the sleeping sack on the opposite side of the tent. “I also gave you a rabies vaccine. Not sure if you’ve got them in your neck of the woods yet, so just so you know, you’ll need another one in about a year.” She nodded her head toward the wash basin. “And I gave you a flea bath.”
Asra grimaced. She hoped she hadn’t brought fleas into this poor woman’s home.
“Anyway, you’re Asra, right?” the woman said, leaning forward to extend her hand once again.
This time, Asra took it and said, “Yeah. Asra Taj-Sylvia.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Taj and Sylvia’s kid? No wonder you fight like a hellhound.”
Asra’s brow furrowed. “You’ve met them?”
“One of the first contracts I had was with your town. The old one, of course. New one’s too far for me.”
“Oh,” Asra said. “You’re a courier.”
“Sure am. Most of us with maned wolf fur are. We don’t like being tied down to one place.”
That would explain why she was in a human city. Asra thought of the old book a courier had brought along with a shipment to her town when she was a little girl—an action-packed story about a lone bounty hunter tracking down criminals in Windemere City. It was one of the biggest reasons she’d become enamored with visiting the city in the first place.
Margot paused for a moment, then said, “Sorry for what happened to your dad. He was a nice man.”
Asra nodded, unable to meet Margot’s gaze. She’d never considered how far news of her town’s destruction would have spread.
Margot sighed and pushed herself to her feet as she said, “Well, your little lovebird outside will be glad to know you’re alive.”
Asra growled. “He’s not my lovebird.”
Margot snorted. “Well he’s awfully worried about you for someone who’s just an acquaintance. Couldn’t go five minutes without pestering me to tell him how you’re doing.”
Asra’s stomach twisted. She’d tried to kill him in her delirium—if she remembered correctly, more than once. Why was he worried about her?
Asra pushed herself to the edge of the cot, which creaked under the shifting weight. “He’s just worried about having to make it back home without his bodyguard.”
There was an irritating smile on Margot’s face. She fished something out of her pocket and held it out to Asra.
“Don’t try to tell me Sophie’s just an acquaintance, too,” Margot said.
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Asra’s stomach dropped to the floor. Margot held her half of the lodestone that connected hers and Sophie’s speaking mirrors. Asra’s hands shook as she took the rough, divoted stone from Margot.
“You talked to her?” Asra asked.
“I hope you don’t mind me intruding,” Margot said. “Damn thing wouldn’t stop squealing. Figured it was someone who cared about you. I couldn’t leave them worrying like that.” She headed to the storage chest and pulled out a thin leather case, then turned and handed it to Asra. “You can borrow my mirror and talk to her yourself if you’d like. I’ll need the mirror back when you’re done, though. Even us couriers have a hard time finding these things these days.”
Asra swallowed the lump in her throat as she clutched the soft suede case to her chest. “Thank you. For everything.”
Margot waved at her and said, “If you really want to thank me, tell Sophie and the human that you’re all right. I can’t take either one of them nagging me about you any more.”
Asra nodded as Margot left the tent. The opening flap rustled into place, and then a heavy silence settled into the cramped area, interrupted only by the ringing of Asra’s tinnitus. She bit her lip as she stared at the mirror case in her hands, imagining the barrage of questions she’d have to field from Sophie:
Where are you? What are you doing out there? How did a courier find you? Are you sure you’re all right? You’re not traveling alone, are you?
Asra sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. As desperate as she was to hear Sophie’s voice, that conversation would be a little too much to handle right now, and she knew it wouldn’t be quick. She’d already wasted enough time being half dead, and she needed to save energy to deal with Ciaran.
Asra heaved herself off the cot and made her way out of the tent. The mid-afternoon forest was alive with birdsong and the buzzing of cicadas. The frogs and toads seemed to have been left far behind—one small pittance, at least.
Multicolored leaves painted the ground, dappled by the dense tree branches above. A second tent stood next to Margot’s, and between them was a small fire pit, outlined by river rocks. The air was cooler than Asra had remembered before she was injured. Summer was quickly coming to a close, and the chill that went up her spine had nothing to do with the impending winter—they were running out of time.
She headed around the corner of the tent to search for Ciaran and bumped right into him. He yelped, clutching the bundle of branches in his arms. His eyes widened as he focused on Asra’s face.
“Gods, Asra!” He threw down the sticks and pulled Asra into a bear hug. Her body tensed against his embrace, and she kept her arms clamped firmly at her side. It didn’t take long for Ciaran to sense her discomfort, and he pushed himself away and threw his hands up.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just … I can’t believe you’re awake. I honestly didn’t think you were going to make it.”
Asra scrunched her nose. “Gee, thanks.”
“Well don’t take it personally,” Ciaran said as he gathered the fallen branches off the ground. “You didn’t see what you looked like. I could see your ribs. And I mean the actual bones, not the way I can normally see your ribs when you’re a dog.”
The relief that poured off of him was almost tangible. A memory flashed through Asra’s mind—Ciaran looking up at her in horror, barely able to contain Bane. The dog’s teeth gnashing as he struggled against Ciaran’s restraint, ready to defend his owner to the death. If Margot hadn’t stepped in, Asra would have killed them. Guilt twisted her stomach again, but she forced it away.
“What do you care?” she said. “You’ve been getting me injured over and over since this whole mess started.”
Ciaran scoffed. “Obviously I cared enough to hang around here waiting for you to get better.”
“Well, we wouldn’t even have been in this situation if you hadn’t pissed your lover boy off.”
Ciaran straightened, his mouth agape. “Are you seriously trying to blame me for this? I told you the dragons were dangerous. I told you your wounds needed looking after. I understand you’re embarrassed, Asra, but there’s no shame in admitting that you were wrong. Or apologizing.”
“You’re right,”Asra said, curling her lip. “I was wrong. I was wrong to trust you with any of this. I was doing just fine on my own before you butted in.”
“Oh yes, you were doing wonderfully on your own,” Ciaran said, stooping low to snatch the last few branches off the ground. “That’s why my brother is dead now. I’m sure that’s his ghost sitting on the throne.”
“Listen, you little smart ass—”
An unseen force pushed the two of them away, sliding them across the ground so that they stood about ten feet away from each other. Asra turned to see Margot storming up between them.
“Both of yas knock it off,” she said. She pointed at Ciaran and said, “You—go get those sticks in the fire pit. You—” She swung around to point at Asra. “Go get that fire lit. I’m going to go get us some dinner.”
“I’ll get my own dinner,” Asra mumbled as she turned away, but Margot’s magic gripped her in place once again.
“No the fuck you won’t,” Margot said. “I didn’t spend a week patching you up just so you could go get yourself killed again. Now get your ass over there and play nice.”
The two of them approached the fire pit in silence. As Ciaran fumbled with setting the branches suitably in the pit, Asra folded her arms and glared.
“You could help, you know,” Ciaran said.
Asra shrugged. “I know.”
Ciaran’s head shot up to throw her a dirty look, and Asra’s stomach lurched once more. Even with as sick as she’d been, she didn’t know how she ever could have confused Ciaran for his older brother. Sure, they had the same chestnut brown hair and the same brown eyes. But Ciaran was finer boned. Softer. Gentler. Even with as furious as he was right now, there was no sign of the cruelty and ruthlessness that Nolan harbored.
Asra felt the warmth of the blanket he’d thrown over her when she had fever chills, the comforting weight of his body against her shoulder. She couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, and brushed off imaginary dirt from her blouse to give an excuse to look away.
“Come on, Asra,” Ciaran said with a heavy sigh, settling the last branch in place. “Let’s not act like children.”
Asra turned her palm to the bundle of wood and let out a swift current of flame that leapt up just shy of Ciaran’s face. He threw himself back, rubbing his singed eyebrows.
Ciaran scrambled back to his feet as he snapped, “Gods around us, would it kill you to not be a bitch for five seconds?”
“I thought I told you kids to play nice?”
Asra turned to see Margot approaching the camp with three fat, dead rabbits in her hands. The scent of the animals made Asra’s mouth water. She realized she’d not had a solid meal for over a week.
Margot tossed two of the rabbits to Asra and said, “I saw what you did with that fire. You can skin and cook one for the human as an apology.”
Asra scowled and grabbed her rucksack out of Margot’s tent. When she returned, she flopped down on one of the logs arranged around the fire pit and pulled out the skinning knife inside the bag. As she separated the skin from the muscle of the rabbit, Asra looked to Ciaran on the other side of the fire, hoping to shoot him a glare, but Ciaran had already stepped away from the fire pit with Bane.
The prince gave the dog short commands—heel, front, finish, transport—and at each one, Bane would instantly change his position in relation to Ciaran. After several position changes, Ciaran would reward him with a quick game of tug, then they would begin the repetition again.
“I hope you’re not too proud of your training,” Asra called to him. “The legends say that dogs with the gift are almost as smart as people. That they can understand speech. I’ll bet you didn’t even need to train him.”
Ciaran cocked a smile at her. “You just made that up.”
“Did not.”
Asra wanted him to argue with her, to fight against her. She’d nearly killed him; why was he so damn happy to see her? He should be furious.
But Ciaran only flashed her another smile as he swung the rope side to side, Bane gripping the other end. “Even if that were true, I bred him. If the gift is hereditary as you claim, his good behavior would still be my doing.”
“Leave him be, hellhound,” Margot said with a smirk. “It’s not like he has much else to do with his life, holed up in his fancy prison.”
“Some of us like having a stationary home,” Ciaran said. “That doesn’t make it a prison.”
“I wasn’t referring to the building.”
Ciaran dropped the rope and sat down on the log on the opposite side of the fire from Asra. Bane trotted over, head held high and rope swinging from his mouth, and pushed the toy into Ciaran’s lap. Ciaran obliged the dog for another game of tug.
“You’ve really never lived in one place before?” he asked.
“Why do you think the answer’s changed since the last time you asked me that?” Margot said.
Asra watched Margot as she chowed down on the raw rabbit. Blood smeared on her cheeks as she crunched through bone. It had been a long time since Asra had eaten with another shapechanger.
“I can’t believe you never realized your dog had the gift,” Margot said around a mouthful of meat and fur.
Ciaran dropped the rope again with a shrug, and Bane carried his prize to a particularly dusty patch of dirt near Margot, swinging the toy back and forth. “I guess we don’t know much about shapechangers these days. There’s not a whole lot of you around to talk to, and it’s difficult to separate fact from myth.”
Asra’s eyes lingered on Margot. Her long, thick lashes reminded her so much of Sophie’s it made Asra’s heart ache. Her bright brown eyes were framed by beautifully arched eyebrows, which pointed down towards her delicately upturned nose, leading down again to full lips…
“Watch where you’re looking, hellhound,” Margot said with a knowing smile. “I’ve already got a girl. I don’t want anyone else.”
“Sorry,” Asra said, turning back to the rabbit in her hands, heat creeping up her neck to her ears and cheeks.
“No harm done,” Margot said. “I just know how you dogs are.”
As Asra worked her way over the rabbit to the neck, she realized the rabbit had been killed by a clean cut to the throat, not by claws or fangs or a quick shake to break its spine.
“Did you catch this in your skin?” Asra asked. She would be a bit jealous if so. Her furred body was built for coursing and hare hunting, but even she couldn’t catch a rabbit with her bare hands.
“Of course not,” Margot said. “The human trapped them.”
Asra turned to Ciaran, brow furrowed. “You know how to trap?”
“I raise hunting dogs, Asra,” Ciaran said with a shrug. “I know a thing or two about hunting.”
“You raise show dogs,” Asra corrected.
“They can be both, you know,” Ciaran said with a sigh. “In fact, I think they should be. What’s the point of a flashy dog if it can’t do the job it was created for? You can talk until you’re blue in the face about a nice shoulder layback increasing reach or a good turn of stifle increasing drive, but if the dog can’t catch a rabbit or bay a hog, what’s the point? I’ve seen dogs with straight fronts who—”
“Nobody knows what you’re rambling about,” Asra said as she sliced through the last piece of connective tissue between the skin and muscle.
“Well it’s obvious you make nice dogs,” Margot said, scratching Bane’s ear. “You’d think you’d be a little more grateful for his dog obsession, hellhound.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Asra said as she tossed the skinned rabbit onto a grate over the fire. The flesh sizzled and the fat popped, filling the air with a tantalizing aroma. She reached for her own rabbit and took a bite.
Margot laughed. “Oh yes you do.”
“I actually don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ciaran said as he watched the rabbit sear.
“You haven’t put two and two together yet, your highness?”
Asra noted the way she said “your highness.” It was a nickname, not an honorific. A solitary nomad like her had no reason to acknowledge the titles of monarchs. It gave Asra an instant feeling of comradery.
“Your dogs have the gift,” Margot said. “Your dogs gave the gift to Asra’s ancestors. There’s a lot of ridgeback blood in the desert commune hounds.”
Ciaran’s jaw dropped. Asra bit down on a foot and tore it from the rabbit’s body. She crunched through the bone as she glared at Ciaran.
“Your dad had a lot of ridgeback traits himself, didn’t he, hellhound?” Margot said.
Asra leapt to her feet, ready to snap at her to mind her own business, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t Margot’s fault her father was dead. It wasn’t Ciaran’s, either, as much as she might like to blame him. They didn’t deserve her anger. It wasn’t them she was angry with.
She took a steadying breath and wiped the fur from her lips. “Excuse me. I need to let my friends know I’m all right,” she said, and she snatched the mirror from the log and headed into the woods.