day I was crowned as a princess a small affair? It’s permanently recorded
in the Book of Ari as historical fact. I can’t erase that. Only three moons
ago I saw it again when I was flipping through my life.”
“Ah, perhaps not.”
“Or when he slipped that love note under my pillow, making me
believe that Mikael wanted to marry me? I made an ass out of myself in
front of the whole palace.”
“Mikael is still very sexy. I don’t blame you for being mad about that.”
“He still looks at me as if I might try and kiss him again,” Ari
mumbled.
“You did embarrass him by doing it in front of the other flyers,” Vara
said. She pulled Ari’s arm, urging her to walk through the door in the
water wall. A long hallway stretched before them, angling toward the
ground, leading directly to the hall. Since her chambers were set high
above the ground without support from underneath, the door in the great
hall was the only way in or out—unless you were a falcon shifter, in
which case you could fly up to a window. “Did you ever discover for
certain whom the note was from?”
“Nae. I cannot prove it, but I’m sure it was a prank. Rurik is the only
man who’d have the nerve to do such a thing. He didn’t deny it.” Even
now, remembering the simple, horribly unpoetic words, she felt a twinge
in her heart.
“That’s mean,” Vara whispered needlessly.
“I’ll show Commander Rurik that I am no one to be trifled with.” Ari
smiled at her cousin. Yea, she would show him and when the supreme
power to rule was hers, she’d make sure he and his legion of men were
11
Michelle M Pillow
shipped to the other side of the planet. He would spend his days
protecting Falconia’s marshes from outside invasions.
XW
Commander Rurik smiled as he entered the palace’s great hall in the
center eye of the castle. They called it the “center eye” because the castle
looked like the stylized shape of an eye when they flew over it. Two
curved walls formed the battlements along the outside. Yards and
gardens were where the whites would normally be and in the iris was the
main palace tower.
It was strange being back in the palace after so many years away.
He’d grown up there, as did the other natural born falcon shifters. They
had been treated like royalty, given the best education, trained to be
lethal warriors and yet held apart by what they were. Being natural born
gave them one place in Falconia’s society—the life of a commander. Other
warriors chose to fly in the armies; the pure bloods were born to do it.
He would be expected to marry a woman with little money and power.
His position afforded him any comfort and it would honor his name to
elevate a woman who had little, and help to support her family, but he
wasn’t allowed to marry a nobleman’s daughter—not with his bloodline.
He never fully understood how he could be so revered, so trusted to
protect lives, and yet so undesired as a son because of his falcon birth.
Honor kept the commanders from rebelling, and they never thought of
taking over the planet, though they easily could.
The pure falcons had ruled before and they’d nearly lost the planet
due to their rash actions. After, it became acknowledged that women
would lead, not hot-blooded men. And since pure falcons were the most
hot-blooded of all, it wasn’t smart to let them reproduce with nobles of
power. The fear ran deep that the actions of the past would be repeated.
12
Talons: Seize the Hunter
Besides, none could argue that the women did not do a superior job in
making decisions and managing politics. Half of politics was dinner
parties and hosting dignitaries anyway. Kings made for excellent
bodyguards to their women, not to mention they raised the children,
training them to defend themselves. Since Falconian men had naturally
more physical energy, it only made sense that they would tend to the
children.
The hall was filled, so packed with people that they spilled over into
the courtyard outside. Rurik felt someone grab his arm. It was a light
pull and he automatically smiled, expecting to see a female beside him.
He wasn’t disappointed.
“Let me be your guest tonight, Commander,” the petite blonde said,
pursing her lips. She was dressed like the middle class, in a long tunic
gown of light green. The sleeves tightly fitted to her wrists with decorative
buttons up the side and the rounded neck of the gown revealed a
pleasing amount of cleavage. The bodice hugged her curves before flaring
into a skirt at the lower hip.
“No, I want to be your guest, Commander,” another woman said, a