The sun tickled Anoniel’s eyes and he groaned as he started to roll away from the light. He froze when he felt the weight of something small clinging to him tightly. Settling back into the small bed, Anoniel cracked his eyes open and looked down at the small child curled into his side under his arm.
Kaelen’s face was scrunched up, his tiny arms and legs wrapped around as much of Anoniel as he could manage. The sunlight tried to make his hair shine in the morning gold as his breath came in whimpers and the scent of strawberries tinged his dreams.
Anoniel reached out to that despair with his magic, picking the most overripe strawberries. He watched as the boy’s face relaxed and his grip loosened enough for Anoniel to sit up. He watched the boy curl into the residual warmth.
The bath had scrubbed the dirt and blood away, revealing the gaunt pallor of Kaelen’s skin. It looked like aged white bone stretched over the boy’s thin frame that flaked like old parchment, and the cracks in his lips looked like the canyons Anoniel once wintered in the northern Felidae Desert. Dark circles shadowed sunken eyes that should have shone like jewels.
Skin like cream, blood-ebony hair that shone like rubies set in obsidian in sunlight, and eyes like emerald jewels. That was what the dhampirs of the Briar bloodline had been in Anoniel’s youth. Not the ghostly wretch beside him.
One bath and dinner had only managed to bring the barest of color to the child’s cheeks.
What am I doing?
With a sigh, Anoniel stood up from the bed and stretched, reaching for the ceiling and brushing his fingertips along the wooden beams. Cirelic’s two-story shop and home were built of wood and stone. The upper floor had wooden planks underfoot, while the lower held cold stone, and the walls throughout were solid masonry.
The werewolf had done well for himself to afford such a building, and it was warmer than the hostel Anoniel had been staying at. The spare room even had a bed instead of a cot. The bed was shorter than his height demanded, but worlds better than his cot back at the hostel.
It was a rare thing when Anoniel found a place with beds that fit him outside the Elkin Forest.
He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he had been grateful when Cirelic had ordered them to stay the night. The rags Kaelen had worn were filthy beyond saving and the men had burned them after the bath while Kaelen wolfed down a small bowl of oatmeal with shredded jerky and cheese added to it. Cirelic’s goats had bleated in annoyance when Anoniel had milked them in the middle of the night.
Anoniel looked out the window at what he could see of the city and sky outside. From the position of the sun, it was already almost noon. He rubbed at the gritty cold in his eyes. It had been past dawn when he finally set his head to the pillow.
At least Raiskin doesn’t have a set schedule for me, he mused as he found his pants. Cirelic had cleaned his clothes and set them to dry once Kaelen had loosened his grip on Anoniel enough to let him finish bathing him properly. Nothing the werewolf had would have fit him. And the old shirt Kaelen was wearing made the boy look even tinier than he was.
A panicked whimper drew Anoniel’s attention to the boy, who had woken and was frantically sniffing at the bed where Anoniel had been sleeping.
“Here,” Anoniel said.
Kaelen’s eyes darted to him even as the boy scrambled from the bed, tripping over hands and knees in the fur blanket.
Anoniel didn’t think about it. One second he was standing there, watching the boy, and the next he had knelt and reached out to stop the boy’s tumble from the bed. One arm, thick and muscled from centuries at the forge, caught and steadied the featherlight Kaelen.
He placed the boy on his feet, looking down at him. Kaelen barely made it to his waist, a small hand reaching out from the sleeve of Cirelic’s shirt to grab Anoniel’s pant leg. The shirt fell to the floor, the boy’s too thin shoulders barely holding it up as he used his other hand to move it back to place and huddle within it.
Kaelen looked up with wide, dull eyes.
What in the hells am I supposed to do with a child? Anoniel wondered as he picked up Kaelen and settled him into the crook of his arm. The boy leaned in, wrapping his arms around his neck and shoulders, and clung to Anoniel as he left the room.
Cirelic was already in the kitchen downstairs. A pot was set on the stove next to the werewolf where he was adding two scrambled eggs to a bowl of oatmeal. A small portion of hashbrowns was already in the bowl and a sausage link was waiting on a cutting board. Another cutting board was nearby with a fresh loaf of bread.
A honey jar was next to the bread, with a small bowl next to it.
The sound of the bell over the shop door made it faintly through to the kitchen as Anoniel pried Kaelen from his neck and shoulders so he could sit him at the wooden table.
“Cut the link on the cutting board into small pieces and add it to the bowl,” Cirelic said as he set the pan back on the stove. “Then add your blood to the honey and give it to him with the oatmeal and a slice of bread.”
Cirelic left the kitchen for the shop and Anoniel did as instructed. He mixed the bowl for Kaelen before he set it before the boy and turned to cut a slice from the loaf before mixing a few drops of blood into the honey. There was already a red tint to it.
When he turned to give the bread and honey to Kaelen, the boy was looking between Anoniel and the bowl.
As if asking permission.
“Eat,” Anoniel said, setting the bread and honey in front of him.
Kaelen hesitated for a moment before his arms struck out at the bowl, wrapping around it possessively, his fangs extended from his lips as he ignored the spoon and shoveled food into his mouth.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Anoniel poured milk from a jug into a cup and set it on the table as well. When Kaelen coughed, he firmly patted his back with one large hand, nudging the cup closer.
“Slow down,” he said as he watched the boy wash down the oatmeal with milk. “No one’s going to take it from you.”
The boy slowed, a bit, but still huddled around the food like he’d not see another bite again.
“I told you, I haven’t seen any dhampirs. Only my brother and his pup, who arrived late last night from the South Gate.”
Anoniel looked up at Cirelic’s voice drawing closer to the kitchen, louder than was necessary. Kaelen froze with eyes wide, his arms tightening around his oatmeal and bread.
“And we are under orders from Brother Castile to find the basinae.”
The magic flowed from Anoniel, stretching like a muscle that had sat idle for too long, as he held Cirelic’s image in his mind. Kaelen’s skin changed to Cirelic’s ethereal pale, his hair to the werewolf’s snow white, dull green eyes were hidden behind ice-blue, and the shirt changed to simple but well-made shirt and breeches as the magic settled on the boy. Anoniel did the same to himself.
Glamour had been the first magic he had learned after his father died, and when the human city guard walked in with Cirelic, all he saw was a tall man and a small child that looked like relatives of the werewolf.
Cirelic was behind the guard, and Anoniel kept his face blank as he watched the werewolf’s eyes widen in surprise.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Anoniel said.
“Oh…” The guard glanced back at Cirelic who had already smoothed his face. “Good afternoon, sir. I have a few questions if you don’t mind my asking.”
Anoniel nodded, making a motion with his hand for the guard to continue.
“May I ask your name and what time you arrived last night?”
“Hadrik Seredin, and this is my pup, Killian,” Anoniel answered, feeling a perverse sense of amusement as the guard eyed Kaelen warily. The boy hadn’t looked away from his food, wisely staying still and quiet.
“Can you tell me what time you arrived last night? And from what gate?”
“We arrived late last night, by way of the South Gate,” he answered. Anoniel had told Cirelic where he had found Kaelen and his mother last night while the boy ate, four streets north on Seventh Street. Coming to the shop from the South Gate meant they wouldn’t have passed that street at all.
“South Gate…” the guard mused, his brows furrowing as he looked between Anoniel and Kaelen. “I thought the Snow Moon Pack migrated to Yisra in the Snow Shroud Mountains with Alpha Kaname after they were driven out of the Eternal Mountains.”
Cirelic snorted. “When have I ever said I was originally part of the Snow Moon Pack?”
The guard blinked, his attention drawn to the werewolf behind him. “You’ve…”
“Never said where I came from,” Cirelic finished for him. “After Frostfang’s fall, many of the Snow Moon Pack left with his remaining pups, yes. But some stayed with Alpha Sai’Orin, and some left for the Rising Sun Keep with Alpha Mateo. Both of those packs are south.”
If that guard thinks any harder, his brain will melt… Anoniel watched the two stare each other down. Throughout the entire exchange he had inched himself closer to Kaelen, and he felt the boy relax as he set his hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.
“Then which pack do you come from?” the guard asked.
Anoniel watched Cirelic as the wolf’s eyes grew dark. The room filled with the scent of burnt cedarwood as a smokey, ephemeral blue dragon coiled into existence over his shoulders. As it curled its serpentine body around his shoulders, its broken wings hung limp.
“I had a falling out with my Alpha. To them I am dead and it doesn’t matter,” Cirelic growled out.
The guard turned back to Anoniel. “Then why have you come?”
“My Alpha is dead,” Anoniel said evenly. “His successor has… reconsidered certain past decisions.”
Human eyes narrowed on Anoniel. “Will neither of you say the pack name?”
“If my brother wishes to not speak the name nor return home, I will not speak the name in his presence.”
“Then prove you’re a werewolf.”
Cirelic’s eyes widened ever so slightly as Anoniel shrugged. He held one hand up in front of him, willing the glamor to change. While nothing happened to his hand, to the human it appeared as if pure white fur flowed over it as sharp claws grew from the tips of Anoniel’s fingers and they elongated slightly.
The claws wouldn’t actually hurt anyone, even if Anoniel slashed someone with them and used glamor to make the person think they had been gutted.
He smiled faintly. Illusions were often kinder than claws.
The guard nodded. “Alright. If you see a dhampir child wandering the streets. Please inform the City Guard. No one wants to deal with Ferox.”
Kaelen tensed under Anoniel’s hand.
“We will,” Cirelic said before he led the guard back out through the shop.
Anoniel gave Kaelen’s shoulder another squeeze before he walked over to the door that led to the main shop. Opening it a crack, he peered through and watched Cirelic with the guard. He heard their soft farewells and Cirelic turn to walk further into the shop.
The werewolf doubled back around, peering from one of the storefront windows before locking the door and flipping the sign hanging in it from a chain.
Anoniel moved back from the door as Cirelic returned to the kitchen. “You need to leave the city sooner than later,” he said.
“I would have never guessed,” Anoniel said as he moved back to Kaelen, letting the glamor fall away from them. The boy was still huddled around his food but had stopped eating. “Finish.”
A shudder passed through Kaelen, and he took a tiny bite of his oatmeal. Anoniel sighed and dipped a piece of bread into the honey, presenting it to Kaelen. Red flashed in his dull green eyes, and he snatched the bite with an oatmeal covered hand.
“The kid needs to be fatter before leaving the city but that damned necromancer…” Cirelic grumbled as he looked through his pantry. “And why the hells do you buy veil and iron salts if you can use magic like that?” he demanded.
“It is easier to pretend to be human if I use more mundane methods,” Anoniel answered. “Also, less chance of me forgetting part of the illusion when I stay in a place longer than a few days.”
Cirelic grunted. “And what about your lack of a mother’s mark?”
Anoniel blinked, tilting his head to the side. “Mother’s mark?”
A tiny, dirty hand touched the center of Anoniel’s abs. He looked down at Kaelen where the boy was touching him, dull green eyes looking up at him.
“A belly button,” Cirelic clarified.
“Oh…” Anoniel said. “I don’t know.”
He watched Kaelen’s hand flatten against the lines of his abdomen, the boy’s other hand poking at his own belly button through the oversized shirt he was wearing.
Cirelic frowned. “Where did you come from.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or do you not want to say?”
“I don’t know.” Anoniel shrugged. “I woke one day in Queen’s Cradle. That’s all I remember before I was found.”
Cirelic regarded him for a moment after he pulled a chest out of his pantry and set it on the table. He opened it, revealing hundreds of gold and silver coins. The werewolf counted out a large portion and set it on the table in front of Anoniel.
“Get yourself a horse and anything else you and the boy will need.” He paused a moment and added a few more gold coins. “Keep the change.”
Anoniel glared. “I don’t need your charity.”
“You don’t, but the boy does. If it makes you feel better, go to Yisra and bring me back a mountain bee queen. The honey from those bees is worth more than gold,” Cirelic said as he shut the chest with a decisive click. “I’ll watch Kaelen while you’re gone…”
“You are an odd wolf…” Anoniel stated.
Cirelic turned to him from where he was putting the chest back. “How did you know I had a falling out with my Alpha?”
“I didn’t,” Anoniel said as he turned from the kitchen toward the stairs.
He paused at the foot of the stairs, glancing back at the werewolf and the ephemeral dragon still curled on his shoulders. He opened his mouth to mention Cirelic’s cracked faith in his pack but shook his head instead.
Men were entitled to their secrets.
