Page 4 of Shifter’s Thunder

The smooth wooden door swung open again, admitting two males who couldn’t have been more different if they belonged to separate species — which, Avelunne realized almost immediately, they did.

The first was a fairy of lavender complexion and variegated purple-and-gold feather-hair, dressed in an asymmetrical blue-and-purple brocade tunic over a black vest. He radiated a prickly, volatile magic that felt like sparks popping from a grease fire, and he twirled a slender wand between his fingers with practiced ease. Behind him stood a human… no, an avian shifter of quiet gravity, wearing a tan shirt with a metal star pinned above the chest pocket, brown trousers, and sturdy boots. His dark hair was pulled back, revealing a square, handsome face that didn’t carry the sneer of the fairy, but rather a watchful, grounded focus that felt as immovable as a mountain.

“Councilor Pendragor and Sheriff Tanner Stands In River,” Denise said, waving her hand toward the males, “this is Avelunne.”

“Charmed,” said Pendragor, though he clearly wasn’t. His amethyst eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to the bars. “Our shield is impenetrable to unauthorized aerial entry, yet you went through it like it wasn’t there. Who sent you? What spell did you use to bypass our wards?” The wand in his hand pulsed with power.

Avelunne’s breath was trapped in her throat. The aggressive fairy magic scraped against her senses, triggering the deep-seated panic she’d spent years suppressing in the breeding pens. Before she could find words that would placate the fairy, Denise stepped in front of her to face him. “Pendragor, stop being an asshole.” She crossed her arms. “She just woke up. She is injured, traumatized, and my patient. Take your interrogation and your bad attitude somewhere else until you can be civil.”

Avelunne flinched, fully expecting the fairy to lash out at the healer for such insolence. In the demesne, speaking to a keeper that way meant at least a beating. Instead, Pendragor’s jaw tightened. He held Denise’s gaze for a tense second, then let out a sharp huff of breath. With a suspicious glare at Avelunne, he turned on his heel, brushing by the sheriff as he stomped through the wooden door, the latch clicking shut behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Denise said tiredly, turning back to Avelunne. “He takes security breaches personally.”

Avelunne barely heard her; her attention was fixed on the man who remained. He stood with his thumbs hooked loosely in his belt, his presence washing over her not with heat or sparks, but with the cool, clean sensation of a high-altitude breeze. Her human instincts told her he was an authority figure to be wary of, but her inner dragon was intrigued and strangely soothed by his proximity. It was a contradiction she couldn’t parse right then, so she didn’t even try.

“How are you feeling?” Tanner asked. His voice was deep, lacking the sharp edges of the fairy’s tone, though his gold-flecked brown eyes locked onto her like she was prey.

Avelunne swallowed, her throat dry. Taking a chance that he had a sense of humor, she said, “Like I had a very hard landing.”

A corner of Tanner’s mouth lifted, the stoic mask cracking to reveal a genuine, warm amusement that made her toes tingle. “That, you did.”

Denise chuckled as she patted her trouser pocket, then brought out a flat rectangular device and looked at it. “I need to check on another patient before dinner.” She put the device back, then caught Avelunne’s eye. “Right now, you need rest more than anything. I’ll be back later.” On her way out, she paused in front of the sheriff. “Be gentle, Tanner. She’s had a rough time.”

The hint of compassion in Tanner’s gold-flecked eyes did more to lower her defenses than any spell could have. It beckoned her to trust him, a dangerous impulse she hadn’t felt in forever.

She stayed seated. “I know you have questions, and I will answer what I can, but I must speak to the Kotoyeesinay Town Council immediately.” She took a steadying breath and resisted the urge to clutch the hem of her soft tunic. “Do you know of Surasa, the dark elf who crafts monsters for amusement and for a price?”

He nodded.

“I was a captive in her laboratory and breeding grounds that are hidden in a secret demesne high in the sky. Other captives, including some from Kotoyeesinay, helped me escape. I promised to ask the Council to come to their rescue. They are in danger.”

Surprised widened his eyes. “I’m listening.”

A small part of her wanted more than anything to lean into his strength and cry on his broad shoulder, but obligations came first. She ducked her head, then looked up again. “I would not presume to tell you what to do, but it would be faster if I could tell you and the Council at the same time.”

He studied her face for a long moment. Whatever he saw must have convinced him. “I’ll put in the request. In the meantime, do you want something to eat? If so, tell me how much you need, and we can order in.” His eyes twinkled. “I know a chef who works magic.”

Men with a sense of humor were enchantingly sexy. And that errant thought wasn’t helping her stay on track.

She sighed. “I have no knowledge of what passes for coin here. I have none, or anything to trade, but I am willing to work for it.” She heard from the newer captives that, even with the wonders of modern technology, manual labor still put fish on the table.

He shook his head with a hint of affront. “We don’t let guests go hungry.” A frown crossed his face. “Unless you need a whole, live cow or something. That might take longer.”

Bemused at being called a guest while she was plainly in a jail cell, she nodded. “Then, yes, please. A large bowl of stew or soup with fish and vegetables, if it is available. If not, eggs or beans would suffice. No cows for me, nor deer nor pigs. I am violently allergic to meat.”

He blinked in surprise. “I thought dragons were obligate carnivores, like felines.”

Dragons had a reputation for such, and liked to further it when they could. “Most dragons are omnivores unless they are… different.” She preferred that word over defective, the descriptor her long-ago family had used. “To be honest, most dragons just really like meat, preferably freshly stolen from someone else’s stock.”

Laughter rumbled out of him. “Why am I not surprised?” He looked at the flat square strapped to his wrist. “It will probably take an hour to get your fish stew and to get a reply from the Council. Can I get you anything in the meantime? Another blanket? Pillow?” Glancing at her feet, he added, “Shoes?”

The undercurrent of thunder was back in his deep voice. It was nice to have someone looking after her, even if it was just his job. Kindness, however fleeting, was a rare gift to be treasured.

“Thank you. I am unaccustomed to shoes, and the mattress is fine. Better than fine, actually.”

A sudden impulse to invite him inside to test the mattress with her snuck in. There were so many things wrong with that thought that she didn’t even know where to begin. She had evidently lost her mind. “May I have a pencil and some paper with which to draw?” It would give her something to do besides remember and worry.

“Sure.” With one last, lingering look that seemed to blend curiosity and something like sympathy, he turned to leave. The metal gate closed after him as he exited through the wooden door beyond.