Daughter of Dusk by Blackburne, Livia
To my favorite astronomer and literary snob
O N E
The snow was a problem, the way it crunched beneath Kyra’s shoes and bore marks of her passing. Though her Makvani blood made her light-footed, it wasn’t enough to keep her from leaving a trail of footprints between the trees. The previous four times Kyra had come into the forest, she’d told herself it would be her last. If she were wise, she’d stay away. But apparently, she wasn’t wise, not where her past was concerned.
The moon was almost full tonight. Its light passed through the leafless canopy, making the ground shine silver. Though the snow muffled the forest’s sounds, there was still plenty to be heard. Wind blew through the trees. Occasionally an owl hooted. A shadow moved nearby, and Kyra trained her eyes on it, focusing on the shades of darkness that teased themselves apart if she looked hard enough. She sampled the odors of bark, new snow, and frozen leaves, and she listened. There was the snuffling of a raccoon, a scratching of tiny paws. Her Makvani blood sharpened her senses, and her brief time with the clan had taught her to use them to their fullest. It had been exhilarating to see the world like this, and Kyra had reveled in these new discoveries.
But they were no longer enough.
Even now, as she stood awash in the forest’s sights, sounds, and smells, Kyra was thinking about something else. A crisp fall morning. A circle of witnesses. Her life hanging in the balance. She’d been a captive of the Makvani, fighting the assassin James in Challenge, and he’d beaten her. He’d had her at his mercy, and she’d been sure she was going to die.
But then she’d changed. Kyra could feel it still, the warmth that started in her core and expanded out until her body melted and her bones stretched into the frame of a giant wildcat. The world had come to her in stark clarity—sights, sounds, and smells overwhelming her with their strength.
And with it had come the bloodlust. Kyra shrank back from that detail, but it was there, as clear in her mind as the taste of the forest on her tongue. She’d wanted nothing more than to tear James limb from limb, to savage his body beyond recognition. Though Kyra had resisted the urge, the memory stayed with her, as did her horror at what she might have done. She’d sworn she would never take her cat form again.
And yet, here she was, back in the forest. Still in her skin but teetering on the edge, far too tempted for her own good.
Kyra placed her hand on a nearby tree. Its rough bark felt solid enough to keep her from being swept away. Kyra closed her eyes and sent her senses inward, daring herself to find the spark that would bring out her other form. But what would happen afterward? How long would she remain in her fur? What atrocities would she commit before she turned back?
She opened her eyes and stopped reaching. Maybe someday she would go through with it, but not tonight. Kyra glanced up at the constellations and noted the time, a habit formed years ago from her early days as a thief. She suspected she’d be checking the sky for the rest of her life.
That was when she heard something move, something that didn’t have the small scurrying steps of prey. Though the footsteps weren’t loud, she could sense a bulk to them—a difference in the feel of the ground and the way the air moved. A bear would have that kind of weight, but it would be louder. That left one other possibility.…