Chapter 2

This man was injured, Talfryn noted as he sipped on his ale. Oh, he hid it well, but his posture was just a little too stiff, and Talfryn had been an apothecary nearly his whole life. He knew someone who needed to be treated when he saw them. Interestingly, the man also seemed to be a shifter—though what sort, Talfryn had no idea. But he could see it in his twitchy manner. Talfryn would bet good crowns he was a shrew or a squirrel or…related.

There weren’t many shifters in Teorg. Just Talfryn. And nobody saw him for it.

“Hey, Talf,” said a familiar voice, and Talfryn hid a cringe before turning toward Rollan. White skin tanned by the hours he spent farming, Rollan had too much time to himself and was a bit of an annoyance. He was too brash, too demanding, and disliked by most everyone. He’d gotten irritating about finding a wife after he turned thirty, then downright problematic after his thirty-fifth year passed several months ago.

“Evening,” said Talfryn, pretending he didn’t care what Rollan called him.

“Glad you’re here. I’ve something to ask you.”

“And that is?” asked Talfryn, watching the traveler refuse another ale and glance worriedly at the door again. Either he was being followed or expecting to be. This was about the most exciting thing Talfryn had ever seen, and here Rollan was, pestering him again.

“I wanted to ask you today, but Glenna was around.”

“Rollan, I’m not going to get you something she won’t,” said Talfryn. For some reason, Rollan was under the impression that Talfryn would be happy to supply anything to him Glenna refused. Rollan slouched, then smacked the table with a hand.

“It’s love. You have to understand,” he said.

“I doubt it’s love if you need a spell,” said Talfryn, wishing he had one of those refilling tankards that came up now and again in the books he read. He was going through his ale too fast.

“Oh, come on. I see you looking. You’re going to make a move on that one too,” said Rollan, and Talfryn tore his gaze from the traveler. It wasn’t that he wanted to be secretive, but people like Rollan seemed jealous of his ability to talk to potential mates.

“Okay, look,” said Talfryn, not wanting to have to lecture someone nearly a decade older than he was on this. “There’s love, and there’s lust, or desire, or whatever you call it. They can overlap. But they don’t necessarily go together.”

Rollan ignored him.

“She’s being difficult. I know you’re better at whipping them up than Glenna is—”

“I don’t use potions to get laid,” said Talfryn, working hard to keep his voice level. “That’s…it’s unethical, Rollan.”

Rollan snorted.

“Sure. Look yourself. I’m not getting any younger. You can mix me up something weak, even. I’m sure it won’t take much.”

Talfryn finished off his ale.

“Tell you what,” said Talfryn, leaning forward. “Tell me who she is, and I’ll have a talk with her.” Warn her, more like. Rollan scowled.

“I can pay five times what you’d charge otherwise,” he said.

Talfryn rolled his eyes and stood. He was not dealing with this. There were times he wished Glenna would allow him to make one of the unethical recipes to use on Rollan. But his mother forbade any spells that were of dubious consent, even if they could wipe away Rollan’s urges. He wasn’t asking for that sort of thing.

“I’ll think about it once you tell me who she is,” he said, then, “Have a nice night.”

But when Talfryn turned toward the bar, the traveler no longer sat there. 3: Akton

The stairs were surprisingly difficult, and Akton held back a groan at the top. Someone lurked in the shadows at the end of the corridor, a non-shifter by the smell, and as he fumbled with his room key he heard soft steps on the stairs. They’d only waited. Shit. Still, if they were hoping to kill him in his sleep, he might be able to slip out the window before they made their move.

Pretending he didn’t notice them worked well until his door was half open and the person on the stairs sneezed. Akton swore aloud, flung himself into the room, and slammed the door behind him. So much for inconspicuously sneaking out.

He was instantly awake and sober, shoving what little furniture he could between himself and the door as he dashed across the tiny room to the window. Akton’s hands slid over the frame in the dark, searching. No latch. It didn’t open. Someone kicked in the door behind him and he backed up, only one way out now. This was going to hurt.