“Those weapons are ridiculous; I would never use them in actual combat.”
“Are you going to let me finish?”
“Are you ever going to get to the point?”
Petur glared at him and then inexplicably began to laugh. “I don’t know why I keep getting surprised by you,” he said between his chortles. “But yes, we can sell these things and start a reserve for our people. Although I am a bit offended that you don’t think I’ve already taken these sorts of concerns into consideration.”
“Have you?” Deyvid asked, arching a brow. “What are you doing for them, then?”
“Paying for such things out of my own pocket,” Petur replied airily. “But your idea is much better. My funds aren’t inexhaustible, after all.”
“You’re …” Deyvid’s voice trailed off as he contemplated the man in front of him. Petur was smiling, smirking even, but there was a hint of vulnerability around his eyes. That vulnerability quickly turned into sheer satisfaction as Deyvid plopped himself down in his lover’s lap.
“Perfect,” Deyvid murmured as he leaned in to kiss him. “Ridiculous and perfect.”
“Yours,” Petur replied. “Only you get to see it.”
“I’m glad I do,” Deyvid said.
The last holdouts among the Shifter Corps were brought over when Petur made it known that the establishment of the fund was Deyvid’s idea. With the exception of Brannon, and that was the point where Petur seemed to lose his patience. He had the man transferred to Tania’s personal guard, and when his sister complained to him, his only reply was, “This is what happens when you meddle in the affairs of others, sister. You get what youwant. Clearly, you wanted this man’s loyalty. Now I have given it to you wholeheartedly. I hope you enjoy it.”
Deyvid wished that he hadn’t been the cause of what seemed like an indelible rift between the siblings. It was clear from the way Petur spoke about his sister that they had been very close before he came on the scene. He felt bad about it, and yet Deyvid knew by his second year of living and working with Petur that he wouldn’t be giving the man up. Not willingly, not for anything. Not unless death parted them.
Two months later, deathdidtry to part them. Or rather, an assassination attempt on Arven did. It was sheer chance that Deyvid was even with them that day, but Petur hadn’t given up trying to encourage them to get along. And so, on an outing for the royal family by the seaside, Deyvid ended up trailing along a ways behind them. Not a part of the group and yet, thanks to Petur’s doggedness, not comfortably shunted to the side either.
It was a bright, sunny day, the water glistening on the waves like a million tiny gemstones. The smell of salt was thick in the air, and for all that there were plentiful guards, the beach itself was crowded with other pleasure seekers. Most of them were barefooted and digging their toes into the fine-grained sand with delight.
Deyvid wasn’t barefooted even though his feet were terribly hot. He could run faster on sand with his boots on. It was that discomfort that had him scrutinizing the feet of others and made him startle when he saw a man walking along in a light shirt and trousers and thick leather boots. As he neared the royal family, Deyvid began to run forward.
“Petur,” he shouted. Petur caught the alarm in his voice and motioned for the guards to more closely surround the royal family. But the assassin noticed it too and decided to take his shot while he could still get it. With a sneer, he turned toward the royal family, his hands brimming with sparking orange light, and hurled a fireball toward Tania and her consort, Jemal. It missed as both of them took on their shifted forms in an instant,the queen falling back into the water as a dolphin and her husband becoming a quick red fox.
Undaunted, the mage loosed a second fireball, aiming it not at the guards themselves this time but at the ground in front of the front line. Molten sands sprayed into them, cutting through their lighter clothes, and they fell back with screams of pain, leaving a clear path to the prince and princesses.
Deyvid, still sprinting, managed to get in front of the man just in time to take the brunt of his next spell. Sharp edged and silvery, it darted through the air like a dozen arrows, only to fizzle harmlessly into nothing against his chest.
“Move them,” he shouted behind him. He could hear Petur grabbing up the girls. “Arven, come with me,” he shouted.
“That filthy mongrel’s not going anywhere,” the mage snarled. He tried to use magic again, but again, it had no effect on Deyvid, who pulled his sword.
“I won’t run like a coward,” he heard Arven shout at his uncle even as the mage tried to dart around Deyvid, an ominously dripping dagger in hand. Deyvid didn’t let him, smoothly cutting a line across his arm that left him gasping in pain.
“What the fuck are you?” the assassin snarled at him.
Deyvid didn’t reply, just raised his blade to the man’s throat. “Surrender now,” he said, “or else.”
“There is no surrender to filth like them,” he screamed and switched the dagger to his good hand. It took only a moment for Deyvid to realize that he intended to throw it at the prince, who had stubbornly remained behind.
There was no guarantee he could get it from the mage in time. Deyvid took the second option; he turned and threw himself at Arven, knocking the prince back onto the sand. A second later, he felt the dagger embed itself in his right thigh. He grunted with pain but managed to turn and raise his blade again, ready to defend against another attack.
Only there was no time for another attack to be made. Petur was back in his warrior form, and he was not in the mood for questions. He proceeded to murder the absolute hell out of the would-be killer, staining the sand bright red with the man’s blood.
Arven watched it all with wide eyes, then looked at Deyvid. “You saved me,” he said wonderingly.
“Yes,” Deyvid said. Easing off the prince and onto his side, he looked at the dagger. Three inches long—bad enough to be bothersome—but it had missed all of the major arteries, it seemed. Nicked one of his tendons, though. Deyvid grimaced as he pulled the blade out.
“But you don’t like me,” Arven protested.
“I like you fine,” Deyvid said through gritted teeth as he used one of his sleeves to put pressure on the wound. “And now, I’d like you to get help for the rest of your guards.” Several of them were still on the ground, groaning in pain from where the fireball’s detritus had struck them.
