Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) Read Online Free

feeling
returned. Heaviness embraced each of his numb limbs, and before he could react,
the ground rose up to meet him and he slammed face first into the damp earth. A
grunt of pain escaped him. For once he wasn’t concerned by the show of
weakness.
    Maybe he’d just lay here for a little while. At least
he lived, he reasoned. Death couldn’t possibly hurt so much.
     
    * * * *
    A pale light from Sorsha’s window illuminated the
garden shrubs to either side of Shadowdancer. Even with the thick greenery, he
still felt exposed. With his bare skin devoid of any kind of coat, the late
spring breeze, which should have been warm, felt more like the kiss of winter.
He shivered, already missing his thick coat. The thickest hair this new body
could boast was a thatch on his head, a scattering across his chest and a meager
patch at his groin. He didn’t even have a tail. And this form’s male parts
seemed…lacking in size. He pursed his lips. Perhaps it was the cold? He could
only hope.
    Once the initial shock of shape shifting and learning
how his new body moved had worn off, a heavy uncertainty had taken root like a
weight in his stomach. His Larnkin was still—no longer churning with power. He
must have exhausted it by forcing it to summon more power than it was ready
for. Perhaps he should have asked for Sorsha’s assistance. She wouldn’t have
tried to sway him from his plan or made light of his wishes. But he’d wanted to
impress her, so had embarked upon this foolery without her. He hadn’t acted so
rash since he was a colt. He flexed his jaw with the need to snap his teeth at
something in his annoyance.
    Now a mute, magicless stranger—a naked
stranger—wandered the grounds. What if a guard saw him? Best not to even think
about that possibility. With his luck tonight, his stray thought might draw the
guard right to him. He only hoped Sorsha would still hear his thoughts and
inform the Crown Prince of his plight.
    Shadowdancer glared at the light coming from Sorsha’s
room. Why did she have to build the fire up this night, of all the nights?
She’d probably gone to bathe and wash away the scent of Santhyrian. He’d
expected as much; he just hadn’t planned for her to build a trice cursed camp
fire in her room, bright enough to illuminate half the garden.
    With quick glances down the path in both directions
and a silent prayer to the Herd Mother, who seemed to have abandoned him this
night, he bolted from the shield of the shrubs, and crossed the exposed gravel
path. Gravel bruised the bottoms of his feet with each step, but he soldiered
onward. Finally, he hunched down in the dirt next to the wall below her window
and surveyed the situation. A patch of newly worked earth lay like a
shadow-covered trap. He tested the consistency with one foot and sank half way
to his knee in cold wet mud.
    He skirted the boggy ground, and after another check
for guards, he used the vine covered trellis to pull himself to his feet. He
tilted his head back and looked up, and up some more, to Sorsha’s window well
above his head. The little human made the climb look easy. He was taller,
stronger, and possessed a longer reach. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard. He
put his bare foot on the cross piece at knee level and gave the trellis another
little shake before easing his entire weight on the wooden structure. Reaching
above his head, he grasped a hand hold and hauled himself up to the next hand
hold.
    Not so hard after all. He’d be safe in her room in a
short time. A grin tugged at his lips with newfound confidence and he increased
his pace.
    He reached the halfway point with no accident, but his
muscles were beginning to knot at the unusual exercise—and his hands were
tender and burning with blisters. Now even the vines were turning against him.
Some of the ivy’s stems were thick, more like small tree trunks than vines. He
miss-stepped, and his foot caught between two stout stems, effectively and
painfully trapping his