He did, blotting out the light. The robe smelled faintly of perfume and perspiration, but it clearly hadn’t been worn in some time. The fabric was heavy satin — too heavy for a humid day like this — but she wasn’t in the position to be choosy. If Rugar was planning something stupid, she wanted to meet him Fey to Fey. Psychologically, it gave her an advantage.
She Shifted, feeling her body slide into its familiar Fey form. Her body stretched and grew. Her tail and whiskers slid into her skin, her hair flowed down her back, her front paws became hands. She ended up in a sitting position, her knees drawn to her chest, the robe draped over her like a tent. Inwardly she sighed, and wished that there were a more dignified way of Shifting into clothes.
Then she slid her arms through the sleeves, and her head through the neck hole, letting the stiff fabric flow around her. It was a woman’s garment, although she had no idea why someone would store one in a bank — or perhaps she did, and didn’t want to think about illicit affairs among Nyeian bankers.
She lifted her long hair out of the garment’s neck, and let it fall down her back. Licia bit her lower lip, and the other Fey looked down. They hadn’t realized they were talking to the best Shifter in the Black King’s army — at least, not until now.
Fools. Shifters were rare. How many of them would come into the Black King’s dwelling and order Infantry around?
“Licia,” she said, “announce me to Rugar.”
The girl’s skin colored slightly, but she moved in front of Solanda and led her down the hall. It got stuffier the farther in they went. Solanda was grateful that her feet were bare. The cool stone was going to keep her from melting in this robe.
Licia led her up a flight of stairs into a rabbit’s warren of what had once been offices. Solanda smiled. Rugar was hidden here, in an obviously less desirable area of the building. The Black King had a thousand ways of showing his displeasure with everyone around him.
Licia knocked on a door at the end of the hall. Solanda stood far enough back that she wasn’t visible from inside. She heard Rugar’s gruff voice, and then Licia’s response, announcing Solanda.
The door opened, and Licia stepped aside.
“I guess that means you’re supposed to go in,” she said.
Solanda stopped and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She spoke softly so that Rugar couldn’t hear. “If Rugar and his father are fighting,” she said, “side with the old man. Rugar is not the future of this race. You’re better off remaining in Nye with the Black King than going to Blue Isle with Rugar.”
Licia nodded, then glanced over her shoulder as if she were afraid of Rugar. Solanda walked past her and through the open door.
Rugar stood in the center of the small room. He was medium height for a Fey, and his features had a predatory, hawk-like look to them. His almond-shaped eyes were the deep black that Solanda associated with the Black Family. It was as if the Throne echoed in their very essence. He had thin cruel lips, and an expression of permanent unhappiness.
For man in his fifties with grown children, he looked startlingly like a petulant child.
“You sent for me,” she said, not disguising her lack of respect for him.
He clasped his hands behind his back, his father’s favorite stance. “I’m taking an army to Blue Isle. You will be part of it.”
She snorted. “I serve your father, not you.”
Rugar glared at her. “He gave me permission to choose whomever I wanted from the standing armies in Nye.”
“You have no need for a Shifter,” she said. “Blue Isle is a tiny place, filled with religious fanatics who have never seen war. You’ll sail in with your troops, wave a few swords, and be able to claim victory over an entire country in the space of a day. I’ll be useless to you.”
He shook his head. “I’m taking you, and a lot of Spies and Doppelgängers. I am to be military governor of Blue Isle. My father will launch an attack from there onto Leut.”
Solanda narrowed her eyes and was glad she wasn’t in cat form. She probably would have found an excuse to scratch Rugar, and that wouldn’t have been good for either of them.
“Spies, Doppelgängers, and a Shifter,” she said. “It sounds like an intelligence force. You won’t need it if you conquer the country as quickly as you believe you will.”
His gaze went flat. “I will need it.”
She stared at him for a moment. He knew something and he wasn’t going to share it with her. Spies made sense, even in an easily conquered country. They would find the pockets of resistance. But Doppelgängers had no place there. They killed their hosts and then took over the body, including the memories. Except for the gold flecks in the eyes, no one could tell them from their victims. Doppelgängers had a sophisticated magic — one that the best commanders used sparingly. And certainly didn’t waste them on an already conquered country.
“You have no need for me,” she repeated. “I stay with the Black King.”
“You’ll come with me.”
“Your father said so?”
“No, but he will.”
“Because he already acquiesced on Jewel?”
Rugar started. He hadn’t expected her to know that.
Solanda raised her eyebrows and allowed herself a small smile. “I am good at gathering intelligence.”
“And,” he said, “as you pointed out, there’s no need for intelligence gathering in a conquered country.”
She nodded. “I’ll go to Leut with your father, when he’s ready. Until then, I’ll relax here.”
“Solanda —“
“Rugar,” she said, holding up a hand. “You and I have no great liking for each other. I have a hunch your father is sending you to Blue Isle to get you out of his sight. I’d rather not be associated with you in any way. Right now, I hold your father’s respect. I’d rather not change that.”
Rugar took a step toward her. She could feel the violence shimmering in him.
She grabbed the doorknob. “Touch me,” she said, “and I’ll scratch out your eyes.”
“You can’t touch me. I’m a member of the Black Family.”
She smiled. “I’m a Shifter. Unpredictable, irresponsible, flighty — remember? I’m sure the Powers would let this slide.”
“But my father would not,” Rugar said.
“Oh,” Solanda said softly, “but I think he would.”
***
She tried to see the Black King before she left the building, but he was nowhere to be found. His personal guards were gone as well. She decided she would find him in the morning, and went back to her life as a pampered Nyeian cat.
The home that she had chosen was a large one on the outskirts of Nir. It had two stories filled with more clutter than any home she had ever seen. Books of poetry, musical instruments, incredibly ugly paintings, and furniture everywhere. The only saving grace was that the furniture was comfortable and the kitchen had a cat door that she could escape through when the wife decided it was time for music.
Solanda slipped through the cat door, past the kitchen hearth. One of the three Nyeian servants was cleaning the pots from the evening meal. The air smelled faintly of roast beef, and Solanda’s stomach rumbled.
Still, she didn’t beg from the servant. She knew better. The idiot had kicked her “accidentally” once, and had the scars to prove it. But Solanda knew if she attacked anyone in the house too many times, she would be thrown out, and she wasn’t willing to lose her rich dinners and soft bed just yet.
She blended into the hideous yellow wallpaper as she hurried up the stairs to Esmerelda’s room.
Esmerelda sat on the edge of the bed, fingering a rip in her dress. She had a forlorn expression on her small face. Her brown hair hung limply around her cheeks, and a streak of dirt covered the pantaloons beneath the skirt.
Solanda had never seen Esmerelda look dirty before, nor had she seen the girl’s hair loose at any time except bedtime.
“Oh, Goldie!” Esmerelda raised her voice in relief. She was speaking Nye, which was a language that Solanda hadn’t known well when she moved into this house. Here her Nye had improved greatly, but she wanted to be fluent in it by the time she left.
The little girl launched herself off the bed and grabbed Solanda before Solanda could jump out of the way. Esmerelda wrapped her arms around Solanda and held tightly. Esmerelda had never done that before. If she had been a grabby little girl, Solanda would have been gone a long time ago.
So this meant, quite simply, that something was wrong.
Solanda let herself be held for a moment, then she turned her head toward the door and flattened her ears. Esmerelda, smart child that she was, understood both signals. She pushed the door closed, and then let Solanda go.
Solanda jumped on the windowsill. Esmerelda followed her, but didn’t open the window like she usually did.
The room was hot and sticky. Solanda wouldn’t be able to stay here too long if that window wasn’t opened.
“I don’t dare,” Esmerelda said softly. “Mommy’s really mad at me. She didn’t even let me have dinner.”
Now Solanda was interested, but she didn’t want the story, not yet. She bumped her head against the window’s bubbled glass.
Esmerelda bit her lower lip and shook her head.
Solanda placed a paw on the glass and meowed softly.
“Okay,” Esmerelda whispered. “But if anyone comes, I’ll have to close it.”
Solanda almost nodded, then caught herself. When Esmerelda came close, Solanda bumped her affectionately with her head, and then watched as the little girl pulled the window open.
A cool breeze made its way inside. That was the other nice thing about this house. Esmerelda’s room opened onto a large undeveloped area, so the smells of the outdoors came in strong. Breezes were unencumbered. Esmerelda’s mother hated this, and often wished for close neighbors, but Solanda saw it for the blessing it was.
Esmerelda knelt down beside the window and put her elbows on the sill. She didn’t touch Solanda, but she was still a bit too close. Her body heat was ruining the breeze.
“I been so bad,” she said, “I won’t get to go outside ever again.”
Solanda watched her. The little girl had never been able to resist a cat’s gaze. Solanda had never seen a child who was so very lonely. Esmerelda wasn’t allowed to play — except with dolls whose clothing was frilly as the stuff she was trussed in — nor was she allowed to associate with the neighboring children who were, in her parents’ mind, beneath her. She had lessons in poetry and music, art and dancing, but she liked none of it. What she really wanted to do was run as far as she could, and climb trees and learn how to swim.
She’d probably never get to achieve those goals.
“I was running this afternoon,” Esmerelda said. Her face was wistful. She leaned her forehead against the glass. “Mommy was looking at fruit and I thought I could just go around the block, but she saw me. I guess she followed me.”
Esmerelda had done this before, and it hadn’t gotten her sent to bed with no supper. Solanda suspected the problem had something to do with the rip in the dress. Clothing was sacred, at least to this family. Solanda wanted to tear every piece so that this little girl could be free.
“She saw me fall.” Esmerelda said, fingering her skirt. “She saw me hit a Fey.”
Solanda stiffened. She almost asked who, and caught herself. Two near lapses in one conversation. She was getting much too relaxed with this child.
Esmerelda ran a soft hand over Solanda’s head. Her touch was gentle again, as it had always been before.
“She said she was the Black King’s granddaughter, and she yelled at Mommy for dressing me the way she did. And Mom yelled back. The lady said yelling at her was like yelling at all the Fey all at once.”
Only one Fey woman could make that claim. Jewel. No wonder Esmerelda’s mother was upset.
“And then Mommy told Daddy and he said that the Fey might hurt us. Because I ran.” A tear coursed down Esmerelda’s cheek.
And those fools were blaming the child for being a child. Solanda pushed against the girl’s hand, and Esmerelda sniffled.
“I didn’t mean to run. I just can’t stay still sometimes.”
Solanda understood that. She could never stay still. It was a curse of being a Shifter. It was the reason Fey wisdom said that Shifters were the most heartless of the Fey. Most Shifters did not have children, and most rarely stayed anywhere long enough to form a real relationship.
Esmerelda sighed. “I wish I was like you. I do what I want. Or like that Fey lady. She was nice to me. She didn’t like Mommy though.”
Neither did Solanda.
“She said children shouldn’t be dressed like me. She said I ran into her because my clothing didn’t let me run properly.”
Probably true, Solanda thought.
“And that made Mommy really mad.”
Esmerelda let her hand slide off Solanda’s neck. She bunched her hands into fists and rested her chin on them, looking fierce and strong. Solanda felt her whiskers twitch in amusement. One day, Esmerelda’s parents would no longer be able to control this child. If she was this strong, articulate, and intelligent at five, she would be impossible to control at fifteen.
Especially with all of the Fey influence around her.
“I wish I had magic,” the little girl said. “Just a little bit. Then I could run and no one would know. I’d make myself invisible and no one would see me.”
Solanda looked out the window, knowing her expression was too sympathetic for a cat. There was a ring of oaks at the edge of the lawn. They were blowing in the breeze. Maybe there would be another storm. Maybe this storm would finally cool the place off, although she doubted it. Nye’s hot season was the worst she had encountered in any country she had ever been in.
“Esmerelda!” her mother’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Why is your door closed?”
Esmerelda gasped and pulled down the window so quickly she almost caught Solanda’s tail in it. Then she leaped onto the bed, stretching out. Solanda jumped beside her and curled up at her feet just as Esmerelda’s mother opened the door.
The woman’s face was flushed. She looked like a tomato about to burst. She was so tightly corseted that her body looked flat, and Solanda wondered how the woman could even breathe. She wore an evening dress of white satin that accented the redness of her face. The sides were lined with sweat.