Duck! (Avian Shifters Book 1) (19 page)

Mr. Hamilton nodded for him to begin.

Ori took another deep breath. Releasing his hands from behind his back, he let them hang idly at his sides, just as Raynard had told him he should. Closing his eyes, he searched for that place in his mind where he’d come so close to finding another side of himself once before.

A frown crept to his brow as he pushed his way into unexplored areas of his psyche. As he delved deeper, it became far easier not to care about the men watching him, about the nest, about almost anything.

Some part of him was vaguely aware of his physical body lowering itself so he crouched on the stage, his hands steadying him on the floorboards in front of him. As his senses started to spin, Ori dropped onto his knees.

His mind raced faster, spiralling uncontrollably along paths he hadn’t even been sure existed a few minutes earlier.

His partial shift had been all about scrabbling for something out of his reach. It was nothing like this. He gasped. A small cry escaped him as he felt his body being pulled in a million different directions all at once. His mind rebelled against the idea, panicking and trying to pull away.

Like gravity and destiny rolled into one, something relentlessly dragged him forward, down into a place he didn’t understand; a place he didn’t even know if he wanted to understand.

The stage boards seemed to bow and sway under him, threatening to toss him down into his audience at any moment. Ori shook his head. Pain flashed through his body. And, all at once, it wasn’t his body. He had no control, no say over what happened to it.

For the first time in so many months, fear rushed into the space left behind after his control was ripped from him. It wasn’t his master assuming power this time. It was something both inside him and that wasn’t him at all. Ori tried to rise to his feet. He tried to reach out to the world around him, scrabbling for something, anything, to hold on to as terror raced through his veins faster than he could chase it away.

He dragged his eyes open and looked to the back of the room. He couldn’t see into the shadows, couldn’t focus. The elders were close enough to the circle of light directed toward the stage for him to make them out, but they swirled and distorted before him, their faces blurring and melting until they were barely recognisable.

Ori’s limbs wouldn’t work. Something moved, but all he saw was a flash of white to his side. Pain shot through him again—bright, vivid, and worse than any whipping could ever be. He collapsed forward again.

His body met the boards with a thump. He tried to open his eyes. For a second, everything returned to its usual focus. Then, very quietly, it all faded to black.

* * * * *

A hand caressed Ori’s cheek. He immediately leaned into it, relishing his master’s reassurance. But the hand felt wrong. It was softer, plumper than Raynard’s hand. Ori pulled away from it as he fought to open his eyes.

Men crowded around him on all sides, looming over him. Ori looked past them and between them, seeking out any sign of his master.

Raynard wasn’t there. Ori tried to sit up.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, nudging him back against something soft and yielding. “You should rest a little longer, sire.”

Ori looked over his shoulder. Someone had placed a huge velvet cushion behind his back. He looked at the floor around him. There were blankets and cushions everywhere, half covering his naked body.

Swallowing rapidly as he tried to make his throat work, Ori attempted to sit up again. He automatically pulled the blankets more securely over his lap as he rubbed at his temple with his other hand. His head ached in a way he hadn’t even known was possible.

He lowered his hand to his neck, seeking out the reassurance of his collar. It wasn’t there. Even as panic spiked inside him, a few memories stumbled toward the front of his mind.

Raynard taking the collar back so he couldn’t accidently strangle himself with it during his first shift. Stepping onto the stage. The swirling thoughts. The pain.

“My master,” he managed to whisper.

The men looming above him exchanged glances as if they had no idea who he was talking about.

“Mr. Raynard,” Ori managed to croak out. He focused in on Mr. Hamilton. He knew who Raynard was. “Where’s my master, sir?”

Mr. Hamilton stared down at him for several long seconds, his expression very serious. “You should rest, sire.”

Ori frowned.
Sire…

His brain wouldn’t work. “I need to see my master,” he repeated. Raynard would make everything fine.

Mr. Hamilton turned and spoke to someone over his shoulder. When he looked back to Ori, an annoyed expression lingered around his eyes. “One of the servants has been sent to find him, sire.”

Another man crouched down at Ori’s side. “A drink, sire.”

Ori frowned. He didn’t know what was going on. There were only three things in the world he was sure of—he was scared, he was confused, and he wanted his master. He tried to rise again. When another stranger put his hand on his shoulder to nudge him back down, Ori pulled away from him.

No one was supposed to lay a hand on him but his master. As his mind spun, that was one of the few facts that couldn’t be denied. He shrugged off the man’s touch, losing all ability to be polite and subtle as he did so. The man didn’t try to touch him again as Ori pulled himself to his feet.

“Your clothes, sire?”

Ori hesitated. He looked down at his naked body. He was supposed to wear clothes when other people were around. He remembered that too. One by one, Raynard’s rules arranged themselves neatly in his head, building a framework for him to hold onto in a suddenly uncertain world.

Ori nodded. He wanted his clothes. Raynard wouldn’t like him wandering around the nest naked—not now that the shifting ceremony was complete. He’d made it very clear that this was a specific exception to the rule. The exception was over.

Pushing his way through the curtain at the back of the stage, Ori scrambled into clothes Raynard had bought for him, his hands clumsier than ever. Some hopeful part of Ori had thought that Raynard might be back there waiting for him, but there was no sign of him.

Some of the elders had followed him into the cramped little space, but they were no alternative to his master. They just stood around, useless and in the way. Ignoring them completely, Ori pushed open the door and stumbled out into the hallway. Raynard wasn’t there either, but lots of other men were. A few familiar faces peeked out from the crowd; servants he’d worked alongside stood with men who’d used and abused him during the months he’d lived at the nest. But Raynard wasn’t in the crowd. Turning in every direction, Ori tried to work out which way to go, but there was no path through the other men.

He lifted his hand to touch his collar the way he had so often over the months. His fingers brushed against bare skin.

A movement caught his attention. Everet, the raven who’d followed Raynard’s orders and watched over him that first day, caught Ori’s eye before quickly looking down.

Ori dropped his own gaze as he tried to get past the men who lined the corridors. They stepped back to let him through, making a path just wide enough for him.

“In the old library.”

The words were just on the edge of Ori’s hearing. They reached him as he walked past the raven. It was impossible to be sure that they came from Everet, but something of the kindness in the words reminded Ori of that day when he first met Raynard. Ori couldn’t ignore the possibility they were honest. He rushed in the direction of the old library.

Throwing open the door, he staggered to a stop several yards inside the room. On the far side of the high, book-lined space, Raynard stood by a window. He was looking out over the gardens and didn’t bother to turn around to see who had entered the room. Closing the heavy panelled wood behind him, Ori took a deep breath. Everything would be fine now.

Folding his hands neatly behind his back, he took up a position next to the door. Raynard continued to stare out of the window. His face was only visible in profile, but Ori could see enough to know something was wrong. Raynard’s shoulders were knotted with tension; his jaw was clamped shut. Not one muscle moved as Ori watched him from across the room.

Ori’s relief at finding his master drained away. Something was very wrong. While he’d been completing his shift, something had obviously happened in his master’s world, something far more important than any ceremony could ever be—something bad.

“May I serve you, sir?” Ori whispered, unable to simply stand there and watch Raynard in pain.

Raynard closed his eyes. Without any thought of protocol or rules, Ori stepped forward. He broke from his rest position and crossed the room to stand at his master’s side. He laid his hand on Raynard’s arm, desperate to offer him some sort of comfort. “Sir?”

Raynard spun away. He strode several paces toward the centre of the room before he turned to look at Ori for the first time. His eyes moved over Ori’s body, from the top of his head, all the way down to his booted feet and back up again.

“Sir—?” Ori began again.

Raynard cut him off, raising his hand for his silence.

Ori swallowed down his plea for reassurance.

For what felt like days, Raynard didn’t say anything; he just stared as if Ori was some ghostly vision that he was unable to comprehend. Finally, he spoke. “What did the elders tell you?”

Ori shook his head. “Nothing, sir. I…” He took refuge in his rest position as he realised that running away from them might not have been the best way to please his master. “I’m sorry, sir. I might have left before the ceremony was properly completed.”

Raynard closed his eyes again, just for a second, as if that was the only way he could keep control of his own emotions. Turning away, he led Ori across to a little seating area nestled among the towering bookshelves. As Raynard folded his tall frame into an armchair, Ori automatically began to lower himself to kneel at his feet.

Raynard stopped him short. “Sit there.” He pointed to the chair opposite him.

Frowning, not sure now just how angry Raynard was with him, Ori sat on the edge of the seat Raynard had indicated and stared across the dark bare floorboards at him.

“The ceremony didn’t go as expected,” Raynard said, slowly.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?”

Raynard shook his head. “No, fled—” He stopped abruptly and took another deep breath. He straightened himself in his chair, tilting up his chin and squaring his shoulders. “The partial shift you performed before the elders when you first came to the nest wasn’t conclusive. Sometimes, the elders’ best guess isn’t accurate.”

Ori tentatively felt his way forward in the conversation. “I’m not a duckling, sir?”

“No,” Raynard said. “You’re not.”

Species scrolled through Ori’s mind. Whatever he was, it didn’t seem to be anything that pleased his master. He still couldn’t think quite clearly, couldn’t remember what species were below even a duck. He wasn’t even sure if there was such a thing as a lower rung in the hierarchy.

“You’re a swan—that’s what the elders saw today,” Raynard said, his voice devoid of any sort of emotion.

Ori nodded, then waited patiently to be told what his master thought of that development and what he should think of it too. However, no further information seemed to be forthcoming.

“You…don’t like swans, sir?” Ori hazarded.

Raynard stared at him for a moment. “There’s no need for a swan to use an honorific when he’s speaking to a hawk…sire.”

Ori felt the air rush from his lungs. He tightened his grip on the edge of the seat. He shook his head, as much at the way his master spoke to him as at the words he chose to use.

Raynard glanced down for a moment, not in submission, but as if he couldn’t even bear to look at him. Ori followed his gaze. Raynard still held the collar in his hand. The moment Ori spotted it, he couldn’t look away.

He swallowed rapidly. Raynard seemed to sense what he was looking at. He pushed the collar into his pocket, the tag catching the light before it quickly disappeared from sight.

For a second, where Raynard ordered Ori to sit ceased to matter; he sprung forward and lowered himself to his knees at his master’s feet. He put his hand on Raynard’s leg, only just stopping himself short of actually reaching for his pocket. “Sir?”

“I neither like nor dislike swans,” Raynard said, his voice stiff and formal. “I’ve no reason to, sire—”

Ori touched his fingers very gently against his master’s lips. “Please don’t call me that, sir.”

Raynard took hold of Ori’s wrist and moved his hand away from his mouth. Ori couldn’t bring himself to struggle against his hold. It felt too good to have Raynard’s hand wrapped around his skin. There was a familiarity in it that promised everything would be okay.

Gradually, Raynard’s anger seemed to leave him, until there was nothing in his eyes but sadness. He settled his other hand in Ori’s hair and guided him forward to rest his head against his chest.

“Everything’s fine,” Raynard told him. “There’s nothing for you to be upset about.”

Ori nodded, rubbing his cheek against his master’s shirt with the movement. It didn’t feel like the truth. It didn’t feel as if Raynard believed it to be the truth either.