Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

priestess grinned companionably and answered Aralorn’s observation. “My news travels fast—Correy’s new horse has a rare turn of speed.”
    Aralorn returned her smile. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
    “Hmm.” Tilda looked down and tapped her foot. “The goddess told me to ask you if you would change shape for me.”
    Of all the things she could have asked, that was something Aralorn had not expected.
    “Why?”
    “You are a shapeshifter,” Tilda said. “A few weeks ago, I saw an animal that had no business being in the woods. A shapeshifter was the only explanation I could come up with, though, other than the fact that there hasn’t been a report of a howlaa around here for generations, the animal didn’t seem unnatural. I asked Ridane if I’d be able to tell the difference between a shapeshifter and a natural animal; She told me to ask you.” The priestess smiled. “Since you hadn’t been here in a long time, I did wonder. When you came here today, She reminded me again to ask you.”
    “There was a howlaa,” said Aralorn. “It was killed yesterday, not far from the keep. But I don’t see any reason to refuse to change in front of you: a favor for a favor.”
    “What is it you need of me?” asked Tilda warily.
    Aralorn threaded her fingers through the hair on Wolf’s neck and cleared her throat. “I have this friend who needs to get married.”
    Tilda’s jaw dropped for a moment. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
    Not surprising, thought Aralorn. There hadn’t been a priestess of Ridane here for generations, and even when there had been, few people chose to be married in Her temple. Marriage bonds set by the goddess of death had odd consequences: Two people so bound could not live if one died.
    Aralorn was counting on three things: that no one would see the marriage lines written in Tilda’s recording book and use them to trace Cain ae’Magison to Aralorn and her wolf; that Wolf and his unbalanced education wouldn’t know about the quirk of Ridane’s marriages; and that, afterward, when she told him, he’d want her life more than his own death.
    “You can perform a marriage ceremony?” Aralorn asked.
    “Yes,” Tilda said slowly. “I know the rites.”
    Aralorn inclined her head formally. “Thank you.”
    She turned to Wolf, who had been staring at her incredulously since she’d begun speaking.
    “Well?” she said.
    He glanced at Tilda for a moment, then swung his yellow gaze back to Aralorn.
    Evidently deciding that Aralorn had already spoiled any chance to maintain his secrecy, he asked, “Why?”
    Because I don’t want to lose you, she thought. That sounded right to her, so she said, “Because I don’t want to lose you, not ever. I love you.”
    Her declaration seemed to mean something to him though he’d heard it before. He stood so still that she could barely see him breathe.
    “It is too dangerous,” he said finally. “Someone will see the records.”
    His voice was so sterile she could read nothing from it. A good sign, she thought. If he’d known what the marriage would mean, he’d have refused her outright. “Too dangerous” was no refusal, and he knew her too well to think that it was.
    “Who would ask a temple of the death goddess for a record of marriage lines?” asked Aralorn reasonably. “And an avatar of a goddess surely won’t be caught up in the residue of your father’s spells.” She turned to Tilda, who was watching them with some fascination. “Would you agree to keep this marriage secret?”
    Slowly, she nodded. “Barring that it violates any request of Ridane, yes.”
    “I know you, Aralorn,” Wolf said in a low growl. “You do not fight in the regular forces because you don’t like the ties that bind such folk to each other. You work alone, and prefer it. You have many people who like you and some people you like, but no one who is truly a friend. You protect yourself with a shield of friendliness and humor.”
    “I have friends,” she said, taken aback by his assessment; it had come from nowhere—and she thought he was wrong. She wasn’t the loner; he was.
    “No,” Wolf said. “Whom did you tell when you came here?”
    “I left a note for the Mouse.”
    “Work,” he said. “You believed your father had died, and you told no one. What did the note to Ren say? That you’d been called home on family business? Did you tell him the Lyon was dead or leave it for his other spies?”
    He was