Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

He stepped close enough to set his hands on the rods and peered inside. It should be easy to spot the cat’s red fur in such a bleak environment, but at first he could see no sign of the raelynx at all. He could sense it, though, a great vortex of curiosity and hunger and violence. And awareness. The big cat knew Cammon was there just as surely as Cammon could tell the raelynx was near.

Suddenly, as if materializing from empty space, the raelynx stood before the gate, watching Cammon with its huge dark eyes. Its tufted tail twitched slowly back and forth; the peaks of fur along its spine stood taut with interest. Some of its readiness to fight faded; in its place came something Cammon could not identify. Recognition, maybe. This is someone I have seen before. He is human but he means me no harm. Nowhere near as clear as that, of course.

“So. You’re starting to know me, are you?” Cammon murmured. He was tempted to thrust his hands through the bars and stroke that watchful face, offer a friendly pat on top of the russet head. He knew better, naturally. This was not an animal that could be tamed. Oh, he had seen Senneth actually put her hand out and caress the bright fur, but only once, and the raelynx had been much younger then. Now, more than a year old and almost up to its full weight and strength, the big cat was too fearsome to tempt. “Are you lonely? Do you miss visiting with your wild friends-having your raelynx neighbors over for tea?”

He couldn’t help but smile at his own nonsense, but the creature seemed to enjoy the sound of his voice. Its mood mellowed even more. It dropped to its haunches and watched Cammon with sleepy eyes. Cammon could pick up no urgent sense of hunger, so he guessed the animal had fed earlier in the day. Raelynxes were notorious for their ravenous appetites. Shortly after this one had been penned up in the garden-which was much too small to accommodate it-the queen had had a run built for it, accessed through the back wall. She also made sure live game was introduced to the garden every few weeks. Now and then, a watcher with a quick eye could catch a flash of red as the raelynx bounded down the run in pursuit of an unlucky rabbit.

“But maybe you’re not a pack animal,” Cammon said. Moving slowly, he dropped to the ground on his side of the gate. The raelynx yawned and stretched out on the other side. “Maybe you roam your territory in utter solitude. Maybe you like Ghosenhall, because there’s not another raelynx for hundreds of miles.”

The big cat snorted and settled its massive head on its enormous paws. Its eyelids drooped, but it didn’t quite allow itself to sleep.

“You seem so reasonable right now,” Cammon continued in a soft voice. “Almost gentle. What would happen if this gate swung open, I wonder? Where would you run first? And would I be able to control you? That’s what I really want to know. Would Senneth? I think I could hold you still long enough for hunters to get in place-but even so, could a hunter really bring you down? What would we do if you ever got free?”

“We would vacate the city and run for our lives,” said a voice behind him.

Cammon nearly yelped as he spun around on his knees to see who had possibly been able to come upon him unaware. The raelynx sensed his mood and came hissing to his feet, but both of them calmed down immediately.

It was Queen Valri. Someone to respect, perhaps-Cammon, at least, scrambled up and attempted to give her a formal bow-but not someone to fear.

“Majesty,” he said, a little breathlessly. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

She seemed amused. “That must be a rare experience for you.”

Her smile invited his own. “Very rare! You can see I don’t know how to behave when I’m surprised.”

“I find it so gratifying that I’m still able to surprise someone that I don’t care how you behave,” she said.

This was, for the dark-humored queen, an almost playful observation. “Well, I’ll try not to be too ridiculous, anyway.”

Once she was close enough to the gate, she bent down and spread her fingers so that her palm lay exposed between two of the rods. Cammon held his breath as the raelynx sniffed at her hand. The big cat felt recognition for this human, too, that was obvious. Recognition and something else-affection? Was that possible?

“He likes you,” Cammon said, speaking in that soft voice again.

Valri nodded, as if that wasn’t an absurd thing to say. “I come here once or twice a week, if I can. To check that he is well. He is so far from home and surrounded by people who distrust him. I feel that the least I can do is make sure he is not utterly alone.”

Well, and wasn’t that an interesting speech? Even someone who couldn’t read emotions would have been able to guess that the queen was describing herself and her own situation. “Someday maybe he’ll have a chance to go back home,” Cammon said.

She nodded again. Her hand was still pressed against the bars, but the raelynx had lost interest and dropped back to the ground. “If he hasn’t been ruined by captivity. If it hasn’t changed the very essence of his nature.”

Cammon was at a loss. Was he supposed to respond to that or pretend she was still talking about the cat? “And do you think that will be case?”

She was silent for a long moment and he figured she wouldn’t answer. Then she turned her head and gave him a sad smile. Her green eyes were bright with some emotion-regret, resignation, uncertainty, he could not tell. “At least I chose to come here,” she said. “This creature did not.”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment, but they watched each other steadily. Most of Cammon’s uneasiness had disappeared. He was used to people telling him their secrets; as long as they meant to do it, he was not afraid of what he might hear. “And why did you?”

She looked back at the raelynx. “The king asked me to. How could I refuse?”

“It does not seem,” he said cautiously, “like a very hard life.”

She shook her head. “It could not possibly be harder.”

He thought that over. He knew so little about Valri-only what Senneth and Kirra had told him, and they were as puzzled by the strange young queen as everyone else was. She and Baryn had married six years ago, shortly after Amalie’s mother died. No one knew what House she was from, or where the king had met her, and, of course, there was a certain amount of scandal over their significant age difference. In the southern Houses, the whispers had started a few years ago: The queen is a mystic. She has bespelled the king. But Baryn showed no hallmarks of a man enchanted, as far as Cammon could tell, and he was pretty sure he’d be able to read the signs. Anyway, Valri seemed to spend far more time with her stepdaughter than she did with her husband…

“Are you protecting Amalie?” he said, before it occurred to him not to voice the speculation. “Is that it?” Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I have no right to ask such questions.”

But she was nodding again, her gaze still fixed before her. “Every day. With all my strength. Keeping Amalie safe.”

“You are a mystic,” he said.

She shrugged. “Some people might say so.”

“What’s your power?” But he had figured that out for himself. “Concealment. You can hide your thoughts-you can hide Amalie’s. That’s why I find both of you impossible to read.”

“I can hide her,” Valri said quite softly. “So no one can find her.”

“But she can’t hide anymore,” Cammon said, his voice just as quiet.

“I know. And I am absolutely terrified.”

She said it with no particular emphasis, but for a moment she let her guard down-just a little-and he could sense a profound and soul-deep fear coiled at her heart. He inhaled sharply. Immediately, the impression was gone.