2 The Morning After

"You look awful, Dante," Shandrin commented at breakfast. She placed a sympathetic hand on Dante's shoulder as she passed behind him. Dante savored every moment of her lingering touch.

"He looks no different than usual to me," Diego muttered from across the table.

"Diego," Shandrin said in a warning tone.

Diego shrugged indifferently and returned to meticulously layering meat between two slices of fresh baked bread.

Shandrin leaned closer to Dante, her mouth tantalizingly close to his ear. "Did something happen last night?" she asked. Her tone was more worried than suggestive.

"Nothing, really," Dante replied. "I stayed up to late and then was woken up by some noises. All I need is a chance to turn in early tonight, and coffee in the meantime." He gestured at the steaming mug that had his attention more than his plate of food. "But I did learn something interesting even though I didn't get any sleep. No one ever told me that shapeshifters were real, or that there were any in the Nascent and were on the staff."

Shandrin's hand on his shoulder tightened, and Dante glanced over his shoulder at her. She had gone ridged, her lips forming a thin, pale line as they pressed together.

A wet thump snapped Dante's attention back to Diego, and he saw that his cousin had frozen with his sandwich nearly to his lips, and a gravy-drenched slab of meat had fallen back onto his plate.

Diego lowered his sandwich, and he cleared his throat. "There aren't any shapeshifters in the Nascent, Dante," he said as though he were speaking down to a child. "Or, at the very least, there shouldn't be." He looked up toward Shandrin.

"But I saw one outside my window last night," Dante insisted.

"I'm sure you were dreaming," Shandrin said.

"I remember waking up, though."

"Do you have any idea how many dreams I've had where I thought I woke up?" Diego asked. He glared at Dante and then took a massive bite from his sandwich.

"I almost get the feeling like the two of you don't want me to believe in shapeshifters," Dante said.

Shandrin sighed, letting her hand slip free from Dante's shoulder, and she sat beside him. "I can't speak for Diego, but for me personally, the issue is that no one in the Nascent is supposed to be able to shapeshift. It's a trait that our enemies have, and seeing someone able to shift here is a sign that we've been infiltrated by spies."

Dante blinked. "So, you want me in denial about what I saw so that you can be in denial," he said slowly.

"When you put it that way, it sounds bad," Shandrin said quickly. "It's more that I want you to be sure about what you saw before we make accusations that would lead to us spending a lot of time and resources sorting through our ranks to make sure no one has been compromised."

"I say we do it anyway," Diego said. "Dad's opinion is that it's never a bad idea to make sure your underlings are all on your side. Besides, if it'll prove to Dante that he's wrong, I'm all for it."

Shandrin frowned. "We don't have a reliable way to test for shapeshifters," she said. "Announcing that we've been infiltrated would just raise paranoia among the servants and guards for no reason. They'll all be suspicious of each other, which is counter productive."

"Either way, I'm going to bring it up with my father," Diego said. "I'm pretty sure it's nothing and Dante doesn't know what he's talking about, but my father is captain of the guard and he deserves to know if there's even the smallest possibility of our enemies having slipped spies among us." He took another few bites of his sandwich and then stood. "If you have any real proof, I need you to contact me immediately, Dante."

"Sure."

Dante watched with relief as Diego stalked out of the dining hall.

Shandrin began to dish herself up from the array of foods spread across the long table, selecting items with such an accuracy that it was nearly impossible to tell that she was blind. "Are you positive that it wasn't a dream?" she asked.

"Pretty sure," Dante said. He frowned into his coffee. With the way their conversation had gone, he was already doubting his own experiences. But still, he didn't want to admit it yet. "Are you sure there aren't any wolf shapeshifters in the Nascent?"

"Wolf?" Shandrin pursed her lips. "Do you think you saw a werewolf?"

"Is that what they're called?"

"It's a term I've heard other worlds use," Shandrin said. "But no, we don't have werewolves in the Nascent." Her expression was still pinched in concern. "Still, if that's what you thought you saw, a werewolf wouldn't be as much of an issue as what I first assumed you meant."

"Which was?"

"Someone from the Wastes," Shandrin answered. "It's a place far from the Nascent where everything is in a strange state of decay. The people who live there hate the Nascent with a passion, and that's where shapeshifters come from."

"Didn't my grandma come from the Wastes?"

"She did."

Dante perked. "Was she a shapeshifter?"

Shandrin tensed. "I wouldn't know. You'd have to ask your father."

Dante drained the last of his coffee. "That's not going to happen anytime soon," he said with a grimace. "Dad's never around. Besides, he doesn't seem to like me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Shandrin said.

Dante swirled the last drop of coffee around in his mug absently before setting it to the side in the hopes that a servant would come by and fill it soon. "He thinks I'm a disappointment because I didn't want him to teach me." Dante was sure that his dad wasn't the only one who thought that about him, but he wasn't about to bring that up with Shandrin.

His cousin sat as though trying to select her words as carefully as she was selecting which morsel of food to eat first from her plate. "Even if he truly does dislike you, it's not too late to change his opinion of you," she said slowly.

"Well, if you think it's possible," Dante said slowly. A glugging, sloshing sound from near his elbow told him that a servant had been quick with the refill. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that what was being poured into his mug was coffee, and his eyes widened.

Her long hair was pinned up in an elaborate braid and she wore a skirt and blouse instead of a dress, but Dante recognized this servant.

The werewolf was pouring his coffee.