Shifter Planet Page 11

  Rhodry stepped into the weapons master’s shop on a back street of the city. Normally, he wouldn’t have gone to a city craftsman for any of his weapons. Fortunately, this man was a clansman. He and his then-young wife had moved to the city decades ago to be with her ailing father. They’d never intended to remain permanently, then the first of their children had been born, and eventually their grandchildren, and the old clansman was still here. He was the most popular weapons master in the city, and the only one Rhodry would have trusted.

  A small bell jingled overhead when he opened the door, and he could hear voices from the back room where the man did most of his work. So he waited patiently, examining a row of knives, picking up each and weighing it in his hand. They were fine work, too light for his use, obviously aimed at the city’s non-shifter population. He heard footsteps, and then the owner’s gravelly voice as he came back into the main showroom. It was the second voice that brought his head up. What were the chances? He turned to find Amanda following the old man. Beaming happily, she carried—he could only stare. It was a short bow. And not just any short bow, either. That was a shifter’s bow. Son of a bitch.

  “My lord.” The weapons master hurried toward him, one hand fisted over his heart indicating his loyalty as a clansman. “I didn’t know you were here. I have your arrows ready.”

  He looked over the man’s head and saw Amanda eyeing him cautiously, clearly not any happier to see him than he was her. Their paths hadn’t crossed much since that day in the testing room, and when they did, they both went out of their way to avoid speaking to each other. For his part, he carried some residual guilt over the way he’d handled things. In the final analysis, however, and despite many things he admired about her, she was still a complication, and he had plenty of those already.

  She gave him a polite nod of recognition and returned her attention to the bow in her hands, drawing it experimentally. And didn’t she look damn fine doing it, too? She had always been a beautiful woman, but the last few months of training had only made her stronger, more graceful in the controlled way that spoke of physical discipline. Still, he was surprised she could draw the bow at all. He ran his gaze up and down the curved wood and frowned.

  He crossed the room in three long strides. “Amanda,” he said, by way of greeting.

  She looked up, her expression reflecting surprise that he’d approached her. “Rhodry?”

  “May I?” he asked, indicating the bow. Her fingers tightened fractionally, and she met his eyes for a long moment before she released it to him.

  “Of course,” she said.

  He had to fight back a smile at her forced courtesy as he lifted the bow and examined it carefully from tip to tip, then balanced it on the palm of one hand. He didn’t say anything, just turned to the old weapons master who was standing behind him looking distinctly uncomfortable. The old man tried to meet his stare, and couldn’t hold it. Instead, he hurried forward with a distressed look on his face and took the bow from Rhodry’s outstretched palm.

  “What is this?” the man said, fretfully. “No, this can’t be right.” He lifted it in both of his hands, bending it slightly, mimicking the bend of an archer’s draw. “How did I not see this? Lady, I don’t know what to say. I am desolate—” The man shook his head in a very convincing act of dismay. “Forgive me. One moment, please.”

  Rhodry watched the man scurry back into his workshop, then turned to find Amanda staring at him, one eyebrow raised cynically.

  “I take it I was just about to be rooked?”

  He shrugged. “You’re a woman. He probably assumed the bow was a gift for a husband or a brother. Something to use on an annual hunting trip, maybe. It would have been fine for that.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I told him what it was for.”

  “Then he probably didn’t believe you,” he said drily.

  She looked away. “Or he figured it didn’t matter,” she said on a sigh.

  A shadow of exhaustion crossed her face, and he felt a tug of something more than just guilt. Sympathy maybe, or genuine care for her. Neither of which he wanted to feel. He was saved from having to respond when the old man emerged once again, bearing a new bow in his hands, this one made of a bronze wood that had been rubbed to a ruddy glow. It was a beautiful piece of work, sized for a young shifter. Like the other, it was too short for someone as big as Rhodry, which made it perfect for her.

  The old man held it out to him, and he glanced at her for permission. “Go ahead,” she said resignedly, acknowledging his greater knowledge in this at least.

  He took the bow, weighing it carefully. He bent the wood gently, then slipped on the gut string and let the bow grow taut. Turning toward the front of the shop, he drew it experimentally. Satisfied, he handed it to her.

  Her eyebrows lifted.

  “It is your weapon,” he explained.

  She tilted her head in acknowledgment and took the bow from him, repeating his testing motions. When she raised her arms to aim the bow, he saw a flash of bandages beneath her long sleeves, stained red with blood. He sniffed discreetly. The blood was fresh. He frowned as he watched her unstring the weapon and run her hands reverently over the gleaming wood.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

  “A perfect match,” the weapons master said proudly. “As if it was made for your hands.”

  “Yes,” Rhodry drawled meaningfully.

  The old clansman pretended not to hear as he slipped the string off the bow end and let it slide loosely down the back. “I’ll package those extra strings for you, my lady. And the arrows we discussed.” He hurried into the back room once again.

  “What happened to your arms?” Rhodry demanded in a low voice once they were alone.

  She shied away from him, tugging her sleeves down. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing,” he insisted. “You’re bleeding.”

  She blushed a dark pink beneath her tan, and he felt something twist in his gut once more. Definitely not sympathy this time. She gave him an angry look that he knew came at least partly from embarrassment.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she insisted.

  “You should see a doctor—”

  “My mother is chief medical officer for an entire fleet, de Mendoza. I think I can handle a simple scratch.”

  He met her defiant stare, his mouth tightening in irritation. Whatever had happened to her arms, it wasn’t a scratch, and it sure as hell wasn’t simple. And why did he care? As she said, her mother was a damn doctor. If anyone knew the dangers of infection on Harp, it was Amanda. And besides, she wanted to be a Guild member, didn’t she? That meant being capable of seeing to her own injuries.

  “Fine,” he said, with a tilted nod of his head.

  “Fine,” she repeated.

  The weapons master hurried up to them carrying her new bow and a wrapped package which was the right shape to be a quiver and arrows, as well as a few extra strings. Amanda took the package, tucked it under one arm, slung the bow over her shoulder and, with a nod of thanks to the old man and another to Rhodry, she left the shop. The doorbell chimed merrily at her back.

  He turned back to his fellow clansman.

  “My apologies, my lord,” the old man said, and he grimaced, his gaze casting about the store, as if hoping to find the words he needed among his many weapons. Finally, he just blurted it out. “She is a woman, and an Earther!”

  “She intends to enter the Guild trials.”

  The old man gave him a look of disbelief. “So she told me. Surely she won’t succeed!”

  “And when she fails, do you want it to be because of the bow you sold her?”

  He looked away, unable to meet Rhodry’s eyes.

  “You’ve been too long in this city, old friend,” he said gently. “You should visit your home in the mountains more often.” He put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You didn’t give her my arrows, did you?” he asked, lightening the mood.

  The old cla
nsman looked up at that, his eyes twinkling. “Of course not, my lord. I’ll get them straight away.” He hurried off, and Rhodry stepped over to the window, watching Amanda disappear down the street. He remembered what Fionn had said about her, that she’d do better than anyone expected. And he wondered if, in this case, the irritating prince might not be right.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Winter was coming. That’s all anyone seemed to want to talk about lately. The fleet had rediscovered Harp in the middle of summer, with the weather mild and the days still long.

  Now summer was gone, and fall was drawing to an end, and Amanda found herself sitting in an outdoor café, watching the people of Harp go crazy. At least that’s what it seemed like. Harpers were normally friendly and easygoing, along with very hardworking. They’d made a go of it on the difficult planet and slowly progressed to the point where life wasn’t a constant struggle. The absence of technology, which was enforced by their erratic sun and isolation from the rest of humanity, still kept life at a slower pace, however. And the city of Ciudad Vaquero rolled up the sidewalks when the sun went down, except in summer apparently, when restaurants and stores stayed open a whole hour later.

  Which made it even more remarkable that tonight the sidewalks weren’t rolling up at all. It was the last blast before winter, an annual celebration that brought the population out in force. Every restaurant and bar, from the tiniest five-seater to the big restaurant on the edge of the Green was lit up like a laser array. Even the palace up on the hill was glowing. She figured the entire city must have been storing up solar energy all year just to power this one holiday. And that didn’t count the candles burning on every table, carefully shielded within glass pillars in deference to the surrounding forest.

  Everywhere she looked there was dancing, drinking and general merriment. The celebration had its origins in the early days of the colony, when winter had meant being cooped inside for months at a time. The fact that this was no longer true had absolutely no effect on the holiday spirit.

  “Where’s Fionn?”

  She glanced over at Tonio who was sitting across the table from her. His pretty wife, Nadia, sat on his lap, her big pregnant belly dwarfing her diminutive frame. “He’ll be here,” Amanda said. “He’s always late, you know that.”

  He snorted. “I don’t know what you see in that guy.”

  Nadia laughed gaily and said, “That’s because you don’t have the right equipment between your legs.”

  “You’ve never complained about my equipment before.”

  She only laughed harder and placed a big wet kiss on his mouth. “I love your equipment, sweetheart.” She placed her hand over his on her swollen belly. “Although if this one doesn’t pop out soon, I might be less fond of it the next time.”

  “Fionn’s only a friend,” Amanda said quickly, wanting to set the record straight. When they both looked at her, she changed the subject. “Boy or girl?” she asked Nadia.

  “A big shifter boy, by all that’s holy,” Nadia replied, shaking her head. “I swear this child will weigh more than I do by the time he’s born.”

  She smiled at the two of them, so happy with their baby shifter on the way.

  “There’s his highness now,” Tonio said, nodding behind her.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw Fionn walking through the crowd, trailed by the ever-present Nando. She knew the other shifter well enough. He was always friendly when Fionn was around, and politely cool when their paths crossed without him. He was a classic sycophant, and she wondered what Fionn saw in him.

  She knew what Nando saw in Fionn, however. He drew the eye of every woman he passed and every man as well. It wasn’t just his looks, it was his personality, and, of course, who he was and what he could do for them. He claimed to grow tired of it. She didn’t believe him. Fionn came to life in a crowd. He loved the attention, regardless of how much he complained about it. She stood up to greet him, shaking her head as he was waylaid yet again by a small group of admirers. Looking around idly as she waited, she caught sight of Rhodry sitting alone at a table on the edge of the café. He had a glass of wine at hand and was reading a book. She glanced over at Fionn, who was still engaged in conversation, then turned quickly to Tonio and Nadia. “I’ll be right back,” she said and walked over to Rhodry’s table.

  “Happy whatever you all call this celebration, de Mendoza,” she said in greeting.

  He looked up, then tucked his book under one arm and stood, his golden eyes gleaming in the candlelight. He smiled slightly. “We don’t call it anything. We just enjoy the party.”

  The waiter came by, and Rhodry handed him some money with murmured thanks.

  “Are you still training?” he asked her.

  “Of course. I have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “So you remain determined to enter the trials,” he concluded, not bothering to mask his disapproval.

  “Tell me something,” she said impatiently. “Why are all of you so opposed to me even giving it a try? The worst that can happen is that I’ll fail and prove all of you right. So where’s the downside?”

  “Maybe some of us are worried that you’ll get hurt,” he said, his eyes meeting hers solemnly.

  She found herself caught in the grip of that golden gaze, unable to look away. Her heart raced, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. She took a step closer and rested one hand lightly on his broad chest.

  “Is that why you—” she started to say.

  “Amanda!” Fionn’s voice carried across the crowds, cutting her off and drawing everyone’s attention, which was probably what he’d intended.

  Her head swiveled, her hand slipping away from Rhodry’s chest. She waved. “I’ll be right there,” she called, and turned back…to find Rhodry was gone. If it wasn’t for the faint, leftover sensation of his shirt on her fingertips, she might have thought he’d never been there at all. She searched the restaurant and the trees beyond. There was no sign of him, of course. There wouldn’t be. Not if he’d headed into the forest, which he probably had.

  “Damn that man,” she cursed softly. Though, she might as well have been cursing herself. Why couldn’t she let him go? Especially since she’d never had him in the first place. It wasn’t as if Harp had a shortage of beautiful men. So why did she have to go and fixate on the one guy with…issues? Whatever the fuck they were.

  She sighed in disappointment. She’d hoped to at least thank him again for his help with the weapons master. She’d been practicing with her new bow, and even her unskilled hands could tell the difference between the one the old man had originally given her and the fine piece of craftsmanship she now owned.

  And even if she hadn’t trusted her own assessment, Fionn’s stunned reaction upon seeing the new bow had told her everything she’d needed to know. Fionn, her good buddy who’d never told her about the master’s shop, even though the old man had confided proudly to her that the Ardrigh and his son bought all of their weapons there.

  Amanda had wasted all of two minutes being disappointed in him, and then moved on. Fionn was who he was. And so was Rhodry. Even though he disapproved of what she was doing, he’d stepped in to help her. She figured it had gone against his sense of fair play for the weapons master to cheat her. Just as he’d made a point of proctoring the exam the day she’d taken it. She wanted to believe he did all of these things because he cared about her. If only she could be sure that was it.

  “Amanda.” Fionn’s voice was closer, impatient.

  “That’s my name,” she said drily, as she turned to greet him. “You’re late.”

  “I’m always late, and you love me anyway.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m loveable.”

  “Not that, you idiot. Why are you always late?”

  “You’re in a mood. De Mendoza has that effect on people.”

  Expecting to hear another one of Fionn’s charming excuses for his habitual lateness, she was only half listening, still brooding ab
out Rhodry, and about what he’d said.

  “Are you worried about me?” she asked Fionn abruptly, pulling him to a stop as they threaded through the crowded restaurant to their table.

  “Worried about you how?” he asked in confusion.

  “About the trials. Are you worried about me?”

  “Not really. I’m convinced you’ll come to your senses long before then.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “Come on,” he said, giving her a hug that included rubbing his face against her neck like a big cat leaving his scent. It was typical shifter behavior for a lover, which he decidedly was not.

  “Stop it,” she murmured. He knew she didn’t like when he did that. They weren’t lovers and weren’t going to be in the future, either. He just liked to show off in front of the crowd, letting them think he’d claimed her for himself. Not because she was desirable. Because she was one of a kind, the only Earther female on the planet. A rare collector’s piece to be trotted out and showed off to strangers. She pushed him away firmly. She didn’t want to embarrass him or herself any further.

  “You are in a mood,” he said, pulling her over to the table and urging her to sit. “Why don’t I get us a drink. Sweeten you up a little.” He didn’t wait for an answer, simply gestured to Nando, and headed off toward the bar, while running the usual gauntlet of well-wishers to get there.

  “That could take a while,” Tonio observed.

  “Why don’t you help him,” Nadia said, scooting off his lap and onto her own chair. “I could really use a fruit juice, and the waiter is nowhere to be seen.”

  “I think Nando can—” Tonio caught the look on his wife’s face. “Sure thing,” he said instead. “You want anything in particular?”

  She shook her head. “As long as it’s fresh. You know what I like.”

  “Besides me, you mean?”

  “Go away.”

  Amanda tilted her head curiously at Nadia as he walked away. Nadia knew full well that the waiters would pay plenty of attention to them once Fionn sat at the table.