The Shadows of Night (4 page)

She had never been complimented on her appearance, and she was tempted to thank him, but she would be skinned of her pelt before she thanked the man for forcing her to wear these clothes as a prisoner.
 
She lifted an eyebrow instead and spoke with the haughtiness that befitted the daughter of a Pride Leader of the Claw Kindred.
 

“May we leave this chamber now?
 
I find the smell revolting.”

“Of course,” he said.
 
“Perhaps you would like to break your fast?”

Her mouth watered, and she abruptly became aware of her stomach rumbling.

“Yes,” she answered.
 
“Food would be welcome.”

*****

“What
is
this?”

Hart regarded the Claw’s shocked face with amusement.
 
He had heard her people ate plain, coarse fare, cooked over fires, so he had ordered the kitchen drones to produce the most exotic, sumptuous fare available.
 
Judging from her reaction, she was suitably impressed.

“My people call this
a’pala
,” he said, pointing to the substance arranged artistically on a silver platter.
 
“It is a cooked grain, sweetened with honey and
maripa
flowers.
 
And these are wild carrots, a vegetable the Ancestors brought from Earth.”

She blinked at the food.
 
A drone floated by and poured more water into her goblet.
 
Thus far, her water glass was the only thing she’d touched.

“What is
that
?” she demanded, recoiling from the silvery machine.

“It is a drone.
 
They do much menial labor for us.
 
They gather food, prepare it, care for our buildings, and make our clothing.”

“It sounds as if you have little to do with your time besides graze,” she remarked acidly.

Hart felt a stab of irritation, all the stronger because the thought was one he’d had himself more than once.
 
In human form, the Antler did little with their time besides eat, talk, and share mugs of ale in the evening.
 
More than once he’d wondered if this meaningless existence was really what men had been made for.
 

He pushed back his annoyance with an effort.
 
Naturally the barbarian was intimidated by their way of life, and felt it necessary to bare her claws as a result.
 
“Try the food,” he urged, picking up his own spoon and scooping up the sliced carrots.
 
“It’s delicious.”

She dropped her gaze and stared blankly at the plate again, then looked up.

“But there is no meat!”

Ugh
.
 
His stomach roiled at her words.
 
The mere thought of consuming meat was enough to send revulsion over him in a nauseating wave.
 
As if the Antler would ever kill.
 
“We do not eat meat,” he answered stiffly.

“Surely you do not expect me to subsist on this—this
grass
.”

The arrogant tone of her voice grated on him.
 
He dropped his spoon—the only eating implement the Antler used-- onto the glistening surface of the wooden table with a clatter and glared at her.
 
“Perhaps you would rather subsist on air.
 
I can assure you that those are your only options.
 
Because no one in this keep is going to go out into the forest and kill an innocent animal, simply to fulfill your barbaric taste for blood.”

She made a low growling sound, then picked up her spoon and began to eat, with a look of disgust on her face.
 
Hart went back to eating his own food, wondering precisely how he would react if he found himself at a Claw table and offered nothing but meat.
 
The thought made his stomach clench, and he wondered if she felt that same visceral revulsion.

“It isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked, a little more sympathetically.

“It is tasteless, bland and disgusting.
 
I suppose it will keep me alive, but there is little more to recommend it.”

She was impossible.
 
His brother and father were right—she
was
a barbarian.
 
And a rude one, at that.
 
“Tell me something,” Hart said.
 
“I must confess to a certain curiosity.
 
How do the men of your Kindred manage to avoid killing their women?”

“Tact is not a necessary virtue,” his brother’s voice said, “among a people whose women are so very lovely.”

Hart looked up, seeing Prong clad in his finest raiment.
 
Ordinarily he wore the same casual tunic and breeches that Hart wore.
 
But this morning he wore robes, heavily studded with jewels.
 
A court outfit, totally inappropriate for breaking his fast, and obviously intended to impress the Claw.
 

Which was strange, given that Prong loathed the felines as much as he did.
 
Obviously he’d been blinded by the woman’s beauty.
 
Well, Prong was always a fool when it came to women.
 
And women were always fools when it came to Prong.

Hart stole a glance in the Claw’s direction and noticed from the slack surprise on her face that she was in fact impressed.
 
No real surprise there.
 
Even when he wasn’t clad in sparkling jewels and shimmering satin, his brother’s face was enough to seduce any woman.
 
In fact, the women of the court often compared him to an angel.

Which, Hart thought wryly, his little brother might resemble on the outside… but certainly not on the inside.

Prong took Katara’s hand in his and bowed over it.
 
“It is a true pleasure to meet so lovely a woman, my lady.”

Hart felt a brief spurt of something very like jealousy, which turned to pleased amusement when she yanked her hand from Prong’s grasp and speared him with a sharp glance of those green-gold eyes.
 
“Touch me again,” she snarled, “and I’ll bite off your hand.”

Surprise flickered in Prong’s eyes, followed very quickly by a hot flash of anger.
 
His younger brother had ever possessed a fiery temper, which occasionally caused trouble among the Antler Kindred.
 
He was not diplomatic by nature.
 
“How dare you speak thus to a lord of the Antler?”

“She speaks that way to everyone,” Hart volunteered helpfully.
 
Amused by his brother’s fury, he leaned back in his chair and observed the two of them with interest.
 
“I don’t believe our rank impresses her greatly.”

Prong’s face was still red with anger, clashing unpleasantly with his coppery hair.
 
“You will need to teach her
her
place.”

“I am her keeper,” Hart answered, “not her tutor.
 
I doubt very much she would thank me for endeavoring to teach her anything.”

“There is nothing you are qualified to teach me.”

“Except the rules of polite society,” Prong snapped.

“In my society, men do not touch women without their consent.”

“Your society is comprised of barbarians.”

Katara leaped to her feet, rage flashing in her eyes, her hands outstretched.
 
Hart had the distinct impression she’d momentarily forgotten the collar and had intended to shift in midair, her sharp claws extended toward Prong’s throat.
 
For his part, Prong looked as if he might shift at any moment and impale her on his antlers.
 
Amusing though the byplay had been up till now, Hart decided he must intervene.

“Prong,” he said.
 
“Recall your manners and stop insulting the lady.”

Prong made a show of looking around the dining chamber.
 
“I see no lady here.”

“
Enough
,” Hart said, more forcefully.
 
“She may be required to stay here, by the monarch’s command, but she is to be treated like an honored guest.
 
I will tolerate no more of your ill manners.”

Prong turned his glittering, angry gaze on him.
 
“Do not treat me like a child.”

“Do not behave like one, and I’ll consider your request.”

Prong stared at him a moment longer, anger and resentment still glimmering in his eyes, then his skin began to ripple, and the ornate robes ripped asunder.
 
The jewels that had decorated them cascaded to the floor as he dove toward Hart.

Hart leapt out of his chair, shifting as he did so, and met his brother’s furious charge head on.

*****

Katara shrank back as the two men shifted into their stag forms.
 
She saw her own Kindred shift on a daily basis, but she’d never before seen a member of the Antler Kindred change form.
 
She had to admit it was an impressive sight.

Their torn clothing dropped to the floor, and their coronets fell onto the stone with a clatter, as their skin and muscles rippled and their bodies changed shape, almost too quickly for the eye to follow.
 
Hart’s body elongated, his neck stretched out, and his face lengthened.
 
His golden-brown skin and hair rippled, transforming into a sleek, tawny hide, and from his head sprouted an enormous rack of antlers with wickedly sharp prongs.
 
He was huge—taller and heavier by far than any true deer she had ever seen in the woods.
 
She suspected he might weigh as much in his stag form as her father did in his lion form, or perhaps even more.

She shot a glance at the other brother—Prong?—seeing that in his stag form he was slightly smaller than Hart, but still quite large.
 
His hide was reddish rather than tawny brown, and his rack was nearly as big as Hart’s.
 
He flung himself forward, head down, and Hart met the charge.

There was a horrific crashing sound as the stags’ antlers met.
 
Katara staggered back against the wall, shocked by the force of the blow, startled by the casual nature of their violence.
 
She’d always thought of the Antler Kindred as a peaceful, timid race.
 
It had never occurred to her they might solve everyday disputes with deadly violence, precisely as the Claw Kindred did.

The Antler prided
themselves
so on being civilized, but beneath the veneer of civilization, it seemed they were as much animals as the Claw were.

The stags sprang apart, their cloven hooves clattering on the wooden floor, then leapt at each other, their forelegs rising and meeting in midair as their antlers slammed together again.
 
The force of their collision propelled them sideways, into the table.
 
Dishes flew, shattering against the floor.
 
The stags strained together, hooves thrashing, each struggling to throw the other to the ground.

The red stag backed away,
then
flung himself toward the tawny stag again.
 
Hart met the charge without staggering,
then
abruptly twisted his head to the side, throwing his brother off balance.
 
The red stag’s hind hooves slipped on the jewels scattered over the floor, and he scrambled for balance,
then
fell heavily to the ground.
 

Hart stood over him and lowered his great head, his antlers gleaming, sharp and menacing, just above Prong’s shoulder.
 
Katara braced herself to watch the killing blow, expecting to see the antlers tear into the fallen stag’s flesh, ripping him to pieces.

Instead, the red stag’s hide began to ripple, and seconds later Prong lay on the floor, gazing up at the great stag with a rueful expression.
 
“Peace, brother,” he said.
 
“I yield.
 
You’ve defeated me.”

The great stag hesitated only a moment.
 
Then Hart’s hide rippled as well, and he shifted back to his human form.
 
A cocky smile curved his mouth.

“I always do,” he said.

It was the first time Katara had seen him naked, and she couldn’t help but notice that his human body was as well formed as his face, and as massive among humans as his stag body was among deer.
 
His arms and legs were as thick as tree trunks, and powerful with muscle and sinew.
 
His shoulders were broad, his wide chest lightly furred with tawny hair, tapering down to a slender waist and hips.
 
His abdomen was heavily corrugated, and a line of tawny fur ran down it, pointing the way to…

Abruptly she became aware that both men were watching her, identical expressions of masculine amusement on their faces, and she looked away hastily.

“Perhaps we should cover ourselves in the presence of the lady,” Hart said, bending to pick up the ruined clothes.
 
He tossed the robes at his brother, then picked up his plainer clothes and held them in front of his hips, concealing himself.