Chapter 2: Teething

Despite her bold words, Daine was nervous as she opened the door to the nursery. There were horrible stories about the black mage, sure, but at least he had control over his powerful gift. A child with the same amount of magic could destroy a village in a thought, and probably would if she said that it was bedtime when it wanted to play. Saying the boy had "teeth" wasn't even coming close.

What are you doing? She scolded herself. Just turn around. Say you made a mistake!

The girl shook the thought off irritably. You came this far! He can help you, and you know it. I'd rather be scared of this baby than scared of my own skin, thank you very much!

She set her chin stubbornly and pushed the door open a little more. A soft coo greeted her. Not the voice of a monster - just a child. Then there was a tiny yarn, and small snuffly snores began.

"What's his name?" She asked softly. The woman who had been sitting in the dark room nearly jumped out of her skin. She glared around, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Oh, thank all the gods." She muttered, "Took him long enough."

Daine blinked in the darkness and then recognised the woman - the long aquiline nose, the dark eyes framed by long lashes, the rich velvet gown - she gasped and ducked down in a low curtsey. Lady Evella stood up wearily. Every bone in her body seemed to click before she was upright. She gestured at the servant.

"Let me lean on your shoulder, girl."

Daine rushed forwards and helped the old lady to walk across the room. A stick rested beside the door. It was old and gnarled, not the engraved walking stick of a noblewoman but the no-nonsense tool of a powerful mage. The girl almost expected it to crackle with power when Lady Evella seized it, but all it did was creak. She was aware of the mage studying her, and then a long finger touched her cheek.

"Not afraid, but not that strong." the old woman said in a sympathetic voice, "It won't get you far, girl. He should have known better than to choose you."

"He didn't choose anything. I'm the only one who volunteered, ma'am." Daine replied steadily. She heard a tut, and the finger moved from her face to point back at the crib.

"There's a shield on the babe, for all the good it will do you, and he hasn't fought this sleeping spell like he did the last one. You'll have to wake him up to feed him, mind. Do you know what to do?" the woman's voice lowered, "Keep your fingers clear, and wrap him up tight. He has sharp teeth and sharper claws."

"Claws? Actual claws?" Daine blurted out, finally looking up. "I thought he had the gift."

"A kind of magic, certainly," the woman said, "Good luck."

The girl's mouth dropped open when the old lady hobbled out. The door closed behind her, and the click of the latch made the snuffling snoring pause. Then there was a tiny whimper and the child fell back asleep. Daine realised that she still didn't know the baby's name. For all she knew, it didn't have one! None of the people in his life seemed keen to talk about him.

She leaned back against the door, studying the crib thoughtfully. She'd been joking when she'd compared Numair's baby to a dog, but now it was all she could think about. It was a strange 'kind of magic' to these noble mages, something that they feared, but to her it seemed quite… normal.

Perhaps that was why the job had called to her. The rumours were closer to the truth than Lord Salmalin would ever admit.

Soft voices broke her out of her thoughts, and she realised that Numair and Lady Evella were having a hushed argument next door. It was about her - of course it was. The lady was asking - no, demanding - that Numair explain why he had hired her. She used the word 'sacrifice', and Daine realised that Lady Evella wasn't offended - she was concerned. Numair's answers were quiet, but clearly mollified the woman a little. He had seen something in his new servant that Lady Evella could not. Daine remembered him studying her, his eyes glowing with the gift. What had he seen?

There was a distant knock on the door - a messenger arriving. Daine heard the young man recite the message in a clear voice: "Prince Velos has given orders for you to stay at Gennen Hall."

"Why?" Numair asked.

"His highness mourns the death of Lady Salmalin, and wishes to be sure that no harm will befall others of the court." the messenger intoned in low, practised tones. Numair was silent, but the door closed after the page with a decided bang.

"It's not your fault." Lady Evella said. Numair was silent for a long time, and Daine pressed her face to the keyhole to peek through. She saw the man run a hand through his hair, his eyes quick and pained.

"I didn't want to marry her in the first place, but I didn't want her to die." he said in a rapid tumble, "Why is Velos acting like I… like I did this on purpose?"

"He has to do something. She was his cousin."

"A very distant cousin." Numair muttered. Lady Evella nodded and patted his hand sympathetically, as if he had said the words a hundred times before. "She was given to me like a midwinter gift, and neither of us were allowed to refuse. What better way to ensure my loyalty, my lady?"

She shook her head. "It's the way things are done here."

"That doesn't mean I have to play along with his charade. He's not mourning Laissa, he's just reminding me that nothing's changed. I still owe him, and he still plans to collect. Perhaps it's best to get away from here for a while. It'll give me time to think in private."

"What about the girl?" Lady Evella asked, and Daine shrank back from the keyhole as they both looked towards the door. Her horror grew with what the lady said next: "Don't you think it's an awful coincidence, Velos sending her to you just as you were about to leave?"

"I'm not going to overthink it. I need her help. I think she…" Numair checked himself and shook his head. "I don't know yet. I saw something in her, but… it could be nothing. I'll be careful."

"I'll tell the mage council that you're going. This will change our plans, of course."

"Not too much." Numair smiled a little, "If I know your mages, they'll have thought of twenty new plans by the time I get back. I'll be ready."

Daine shivered and pulled herself away from the door. Something made her skin crawl. Slowly, she realised that the sound in the nursery had changed.

A low, threatening growl crept from the crib.

Daine froze, the hackles on her neck raising in a way that she hadn't felt in years. Her heart was still thudding from the tense interview and her mind still whirling with the mages' conspiracies. She felt her grip on herself failing. Her stomach lurched as she tried to pull it back, but the baby's sound was too familiar to resist. Instinctively, she ducked her head down and prowled closer to the snarling infant.

She growled back, and heard a harsh yelp.

Horror dragged her away, and she scrubbed at her hands frantically. The nails shrank back into soft crescents, but the hoary roughness was harder to coax away. The crib was silent now. Had she imagined it? When she peeked under the covers, would she see eyes that glowed as yellow as her own surely were?

A noise outside the room made her jump, and she scooped up the blanket-wrapped bundle in guilty haste.

"Don't come in!" she cried, seeing the handle starting to turn. "He's fine!"

The handle stopped turning, and she clutched the baby in relief. Her eyes saw far too clearly in the dark, and she wondered how long she would have to hide in the nursery before they changed back. She heard another sound - a soft, searching snuffling that was familiar and comforting. That was how wolves sounded when they greeted each other, smelling each other's fur to find out where they had been. It was as friendly as the growl had been menacing. Steeling herself, she pulled the blanket back and looked down.

The baby yawned, and his eyes opened in soft blue slivers. His nose slowly faded from black to pink as he sank into sleep. His hands, caught halfway between fingers and claws, caught in the soft blanket and tore savage holes where it was folded tightly around him. Daine felt a wrench of pity for the poor thing. It was probably the first time he had been rocked to sleep in his life. What an awful life, feeling so alone and misunderstood, when all he really wanted was for someone to love him.

She nuzzled against him, and the room grew darker as her eyes turned human once more. The baby fussed when she tried to set him down, so she kept holding him. He was warm and smelled of damp fur and sweet vanilla.

"I understand," she whispered, stroking his downy hair. "But… but I don't think your da will. Better we keep this a secret, don't you think?"