The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens #7)(9)

He turned, and I frowned, wondering at my strange thoughts as of late, before gently shaking my head. Time to get to work.

Petra had been kind enough to leave me several smooth stones, twigs, and broad, waxy leaves. I’d smoked plenty of meat while inside the games. Funny how he’d anticipated I might wish to do that again today.

I was just placing the finishing touches on the smoker when he returned, cradling the makeshift pot between his hands and walking carefully, so as not to spill any. But satyrs were as surefooted as mountain goats. I knew he’d not waste even a drop of it.

“I put several baking stones into the fire. If you could dig them out, I’ll set the pot atop,” he said.

Grabbing the knife from my pouch, I reached close to the flame and deftly flicked the two large cooking stones out with the metal tip, arranging them so that Petra could set the pot down. The stones were so hot that only a few moments after setting it down, the water in the pot began to bubble.

Petra took a seat on an overturned log beside me, and I set about chopping one of the rabbits into crude chunks on a large, semi-flat stone. Once cut, I dropped the rabbit into the boiling water. Petra added the truffles, seeds, a few pine needles, and a small chunk of salt lick he always kept on him.

Meanwhile, I slivered the rest of the meat into strips before placing them into the smoker. All of this was accomplished quickly and in silence.

Once I’d lain down the final cut, I raised a brow. “Shelter?” The night was clear, and the stars were visible. I scented no rain.

With a quick glance toward the sky, he shook his head. “I don’t think we need it.”

He looked over at me. There were a thousand different thoughts rolling through my head, but for some reason I could only focus on the cricket song stirring in the breeze. Our nights spent inside the games had been easy, but now my stomach quivered, coiling with thick knots of tension and nerves. Why?

“Perhaps you could take this time to bathe,” he suggested into the ever-thickening silence growing between us.

Pursing my lips, but not having a good reason to suggest otherwise, I tossed him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I am in need of one. But are you sure you wouldn’t rather go first?”

“No. Ladies first.”

“Well.” I kicked out my left front hoof, wrinkling my nose at the thick coat of red dust caking my body and nodded. “I won’t take long. Give me fifteen minutes.”

He nodded. “I saw some soap weed a klick back, over that way.” He pointed toward his left, the same direction he’d gotten water from earlier.

Thanking him again, I left. But when I glanced back for just a second, I saw him pull the seeing disk from out of his spelled pouch, and though it was nearly dark, I could see well enough to note the turned down frown tugging at his lips. Whatever he stared at obviously brought him great pain.

I found the soap weed, a long, thorny green stalk the size of my wrist with a delicate looking purple bloom on the top. I trimmed off the thorns and then tugged the thing out by its root, ripping the bloom off and tossing it away. The soap came from the milky sap the weed produced in its stem.

When I finally got to what I’d hoped would be a river, I saw it was more of a shallow stream. The water was clear, so there were no surprises within. But there was no way I’d be able to submerge my substantial hind end, and I was filthy enough that I needed a bath.

I’d have to shift, then. All centaurs could do it. Though I tended to prefer my natural form when traveling, I was also a rarity amongst my people in that I did not hate wearing two legs and had made the shift enough times that I’d gotten the human legs as strong as my equine ones.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the innate ball of power that rested inside all hybrids. Centaurs abhorred magic as a people, yet we were hypocrites, because even we could perform some. The golden yellow droplet of power began to grow and swell inside of me, rushing warmly through my blood like a stream. The shift was seamless, and in moments I felt my body contorting, realigning itself to its new dimensions. I grew shorter, especially from the waist down.

Holding out my arms to steady myself, I breathed through the transformation. In only seconds, I stood on two feet. It always took me a moment to prepare my body for that first step. Balancing on two legs as opposed to four took considerable effort and skill. My knees were shaky, but soon I felt confident enough to turn and slowly wade into the water.

I was a rather smallish woman on two legs, barely five foot four. And though I was far more powerful as a centaur, there were benefits to transforming, like being able to fit into smaller, more confined spaces.

The shock of the cold water prickled over my skin, making me suck in a sharp breath as the water rose past my thighs and flirted just beneath the swell of my breasts.

With a muttered curse, I walked to the deepest spot I could find, screwed my eyes shut, and dunked myself completely. A cry of shock spilled off my tongue when I finally came back up, but I was acclimating and proceeded to scrub the dirt off.

Thankfully, Petra was far enough back at camp that he shouldn’t have heard my cry. Gods, I was such a girl sometimes.





Chapter 3


Petra

I watched her in the seeing disk Ty had given me. She had long blond hair and wore a crown of leaves and twigs upon her head, her elegant horns poking out of the fauna. Her skin was pale as milk in the moonlight, her eyes as blue as the Seren Seas, and her lips the color of a bright-red rose.