Chapter Two

Darius spread his wings wide to slow his speed as he glided through the air high above the city, scanning the bustle of activity below. He glanced toward the palace in the distance, then firmly away. He was only doing his duty at that moment, monitoring the city he would one day rule, he reminded himself. And he was certainly not dragging it out so he could avoid his mother.

Though it was still early spring, the sun was bright and gleamed against the vibrant cerulean waves of the sea and the harbor. The sun's warmth soaked into his feathers only to be cooled by the streaming wind, and he angled his wings to pull into a wide circle, enjoying the sensation of riding the air's currents as he surveyed the city from above. Darius was wearing his hawk form; few people, either human or demon, knew that he used it, so it was something of a favorite of his for the anonymity it afforded him. This task—self-appointed though it might be—served well to clear his thoughts, which made it an important part of his day even if there wasn't a tangible purpose to it in times of peace. And of course, there was also the added benefit that he was much harder for certain people to locate if he was in an innocuous form.

He glanced toward the palace's shining outline once more, and a sigh escaped him. Not that he could delay answering his mother's summons for much longer; prince of demons or not, he had better sense than to blatantly flout one of Queen Naratha's commands. Still, he could afford a little more time in the skies.

The winds carried him over the Sanctuary, a walled compound that contained several temples as well as the city's main necropolis. The burial grounds covered all but the bare top of a high hill which was ringed by a grove of sacred juniper trees. He'd been there often in his usual form, since he had a ceremonial role in some of the city's key rituals and sacrifices. Today, though, it was empty, and probably very peaceful beneath the sheltering boughs of the sacred trees. As peaceful as a place carrying the memory of blood and ash and pleas to the gods could be, anyway.

Not that there had been any need for desperate entreaties to the gods for some time, he reflected; the Shadowborn City was a prosperous place and a peaceful one. Yes, there were occasional incursions on their borders and on their seas, but nothing serious since the days of his childhood. The demon overlords of Karazhen and its sister cities that dotted the coast of the Akkenthian Sea were extremely proactive in eliminating any threats to their safety.

He angled his wings down, their tips just barely clearing the tops of the highest juniper trees, then caught a sudden gust of wind to sail upward. Settling into a glide, he refocused his hawk's gaze on the Sanctuary. Chants from one of the temples below reached him as he continued his easy flight, and he let himself drift aimlessly for a moment, listening to the rhythmic music raised in praise of the gods. Occasionally people walking on the paths around the temple glanced up as his shadow passed over them, but there was nothing remarkable about a tawny desert hawk, so they continued on their way.

Darius considered the temple, its polished marble pillars gleaming in the morning light, for a moment longer. He personally was unimpressed with the prospect of worshipping gods that had seemed indifferent to the relentless suffering that had followed his kind for centuries until they'd clawed their way to a new order, one that provided them with a safe haven. But there was little to be done about it; disrespect to greater beings would only bring suffering, whether that came from the gods themselves or from neighboring nations who still chafed at the idea of any lands being claimed by creatures they saw as unnatural and unholy.

He turned his attention back to the world below. He'd drifted over the administrative sector of the Sanctuary, and directly beneath him was the dovecote, the Sanctuary's main hub for communication with other parts of the city. A young woman in the customary pale blue chiton of a junior administrator was sweeping the dovecote's rear courtyard. Sparrows hopped and fluttered around her, some pecking through the pile of dust she'd swept together as they presumably searched for seeds. Her hair was an unusually light gold color that suggested hill tribe heritage, and she wore it down, with no head covering, which told him that she didn't have any duties of a strictly religious nature. That was a bit peculiar; a young acolyte might do menial labor like sweeping as either meditation or penance, but administrators generally wouldn't. Although he supposed that if she was responsible for monitoring the doves and the messages they carried, she could simply be spending time outside to seek mental clarity in much the same way he was.

The thought brought him back to the matter of his mother's summons, and he gave a deep sigh internally; he needed to make his way back to the palace. On a whim that was perhaps more than slightly colored by pique, he angled his wings into a sharp dive, straight toward a knot of chirping sparrows congregated in the courtyard. The birds rapidly scattered with shrill chirps, and he pulled out of the dive, glad for the tiny moment of amusement before he had to return to his duties.

In that second, something struck him forcefully in the chest.

The attack catching him completely unawares, Darius shifted form. He hadn't consciously chosen one, but an instant later, he was a lion, all tawny fur and rippling muscle. He whipped around to face the threat, a terrible snarl tearing from him—

And immediately felt very foolish. The threat, such as it was, was the young woman who'd been sweeping the courtyard, and had apparently used that same implement to hit him.

Her bright blue eyes wide with fear, she dropped the broom. It fell against the courtyard's flagstones with a rattling sound. For a moment, neither of them moved— the young woman was frozen in apparent fear, and Darius, for his part, was just perplexed. She had to have reflexes like a sandsnake to have done that, he thought. Or she was sensitive enough to elemental magic that she'd sensed his approach, but in that case, surely she wouldn't have been foolish enough to strike him. Attacking a demon in this city was a death sentence.

That very thought seemed to have just occurred to the woman. For a moment, he thought she might bolt, but then, she slowly sank to her knees in a posture of supplication.

"My lord, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know."

Darius regarded her for a moment through his amber leonine eyes, wondering if that was true. A slight breeze blew his mane back. No, she wouldn't have dared raise a hand against him if she'd known, and certainly not in defense of sparrows, he decided. She was just more alert than most, and more caring toward lives that were smaller than hers. He considered shifting to human form to reassure her that he didn't mean to exact punishment for her actions, but then decided against it; if she recognized him, she'd only be more frightened. Besides, he'd just taken a highly dangerous and aggressive form against a human girl with a broom, which was an embarrassing enough overreaction that he thought perhaps it was best if no one realized who he was.

His wings twitched, and he blinked, only having just realized that he even had them. Gods, he really had gone overboard. A massive, winged lion? At least he hadn't taken his dragon form, but still, what exactly had he thought the threat was?

The young woman was still kneeling with her head bowed. Her breathing was quick and shallow, but she didn't move. He backed away slowly. He wasn't sure if she could see him with how she had her head lowered, but he was certain that his earlier posture— of a lion ready to pounce— had done nothing to mitigate the fact that he'd inadvertently terrified her. Though he had no objection to deliberately terrifying people, occasionally doing it by accident was an unavoidable hazard that came with his nature. No, it was better if he just left.

One of the sparrows hopped across the flagstones in front of her. Darius, who'd started to turn away, paused. To his surprise, the girl placed a hand in front of the bird, the motion protective but done without apparent conscious thought. He tilted his head. That was peculiar; what kind of person in her situation gave half a care for the safety of a small wild bird?

A second later, the courtyard was suddenly alive with chittering chirps and the flapping of wings, and his lion ears flattened in alarm at the flurry of motion of dozens of sparrows flying toward him in a rush.

Darius had had enough brushes with indignity that morning already and did not intend to add being pecked and clawed by sparrows of all things on top of it. As the first wave of them reached him, he turned away and bunched his powerful muscles, then launched himself upward. Midair, he returned to his hawk form, swooping steeply into the sky.