Raider is out on Amazon! If you all like my novels and would like to support me and my writing I would appreciate it if you thought about purchasing it on Amazon, it helps me out a lot. Also, can we give Darkcurs3 a round of applause for getting it done so quickly? He did pretty awesome if you ask me. The link to it is in the Author's note above, and thank you in advance.

Markious.

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Lira walked out of the dressing room, she smiled at the seamstress who was casting them all scandalous glances, clearly thinking about the conversation she had overheard as she was getting her measurements for the dresses. She rounded the corner to see what Leon was doing and froze.

He was standing there, right in front of a mirror, but the reflection that was staring back at him was not his own, or rather was not one that she knew, though many of the features were the same. As she watched the world faded to grey, and he turned to her, but once again he was not the Leon she knew.

The world wavered like it was nothing but an illusion, a wool pulled over her eyes and she was finally adjusting her vision to see the individual stitching in front of her. As she watched they all came unraveled, and a new world was laid out in front of her. The Leon that was not Leon was there, laying in a royal bed. She watched, somehow knowing this man’s name, Brandt, and finding she could do nothing more she simply observed.

***

Brandt opened his eyes and groaned, it was not just the light that seemed to drive its hateful nails into his eyes that caused this sound to escape his throat, it was also the memories that flooded his mind along with the hateful rays of light. Closing his eyes he breathed in a deep breath, urging himself to remain calm, when the calm would not come even as he commanded it to be so he threw open his eyes once again and took in the three visible posts of his bed, the fourth hidden from view behind his head in his current skewed state. Each of the dark oak posts was carved with delicate heraldry and the colors of his house, of which he was the only living member and would inevitably, be the only male to carry such colors now that his uncle the high king Randal of Bellmark had decided to sell him off.

Well perhaps sell was the wrong way to put it, but it was very similar. Brandt was of house Iru, his mother had been the king Randal’s sister, and she had married Sir Iru, sadly when she was giving birth to Brandt she suffered some complications and passed away. His father had fallen in battle some ten years ago, fallen to a patrol of Riverfends patrollers who had ventured too far into Bellmark territory, leaving the then seven-year-old Brandt completely parentless, his maternal uncle had taken him in and cared for him the past ten years. It had been a politically sound maneuver for the king, because now he had another member of the royal house that he could marry off for political alliances, in other words to uncle Randal Brandt was nothing more than a bargaining chip, one that was not quite a prince but was definitely of the royal line. For the past two years Brandt had pushed back more than one royal lady that his uncle had urged him to get to know, but now his uncle had pushed on him one prospect he had no way of backing out of.

His uncle had told him he was too in no uncertain terms to wed the second daughter of the NormiSatyr clan chieftain. The satyrs were a race of demi-humans that were part animalistic and part human, typically consisting of a human upper torso with the legs of an animal. This particular strand of the demi-humans were part human part lion, with powerful legs that bent with an extra joint, had golden cat eyes and ears just like the great cats of the plains. They were clearly not human, and it was impossible for a human to create an offspring with a Satyr, so this alliance was simply a matter of trust, in other words, he was a political prisoner.

If it was for any other terms he would have outright denied the king, but this alliance would allow Bellmark to pass unharmed by the NormiSatyr people through their kingdom, allowing them to shave months off of each and every caravan and trade they made between themselves and practically all of the other nations, instead of skirting the plains and working its way around the inner plains that all nations bordered they could now go through it.

On Top of that as the kingdom of Bellmark and the NormiSatyr were to be in an alliance with one another they now were allies in conflict as well, meaning they would now leap to each other’s aid if one was under attack, and seeing as NormiSatyr was so centralized it would make reacting and staging attacks much, much more advantageous.

His uncle the king had him cornered, there was no way Brandt would allow his kingdom to not seize this opportunity, and the king knew it. With a frustrated sigh, he threw back his covers and sat up in the deep feather bed, swinging his legs over the side. He would marry this Satyr woman, and he would bed her, and he would do all of this for his country. Cursing his bad luck he got out of bed and put on a clean pair of britches and a linen shirt, he then tugged on his padded leather gambeson which reached his mid-calves and was split both down the front and back to allow ease of leg movement, he also pulled on his boots, opting for the easier to put on riding boots and grabbed his sword belt, not even stopping to strap it on he marched out of the room and towards the practice grounds of the Bellmark castle.

He could walk these halls even blindfolded, he had lived here in the east wing of the castle by himself separated from the rest of the royal family for the past ten years after all. With a sigh, he ran his hand through his close-cropped red hair, and as he did his hand brushed past the short red beard he had on his face, his hand paused before rubbing over the short beard as he felt it, wondering if his new bride would like the fur on his chin or not. The thought made him pause, he hadn’t even met the satyr and he was already calling her his bride, with a shake of his head he kept up his brisk walk towards the training ground.

It was not the fact that he was to be married off that angered him; it was, after all, that happened to royalty, a fact of life he had accepted much earlier in life, no what angered him was the fact that the king, his uncle had not seen fit to tell him the reason a diplomatic party of Satyrs was coming was for his one marriage to one of them. He hadn’t known he was to marry until last night, and he had no time to prepare. With a slight growl and an agitated roll of his shoulders, he walked out of the castle and down to the practice field, which was at this late time in the morning completely deserted.

It was not that he didn’t understand, he knew the reason his uncle had not told him, what with all the other offers he had shrugged off, his uncle was probably worried he would do so with this one as well. The reason for his being upset with the king stemmed from the fact that the king had no faith in him, Brandt knew his place, and knew that sometimes you had to do something that was distasteful to make sure the kingdom thrived, and this was one of those decisions, and his uncle had no faith in Brandt.

“Whatever,” he cursed in a deep guttural growl, he ripped his sword out of the scabbard and tossed the sword belt and scabbard some distance away and took a sword stance. He needed to work off his frustration and much to his embarrassment even though he would never admit it to anyone, his nervousness.

He started in the fools pose, pointing the blade away behind him like it was a tail and then flowed through the twelve stages of the Oracular dance of blades, a flowing dance that was more to free and flex muscles than a true fighting style, the dance consisted of impossible bends and twists and a fast footwork as he followed a circular path that spread out into an oblong shape before forming back up into a circular one. He was into his twelfth rotation when he heard a sound, he spun and pointed his blade, and found the person he was pointing his blade at was a young Satyr girl, as he pointed she tensed, her legs widening into a fighting stance and the spear in her hands pointing at his heart.

They were a good ten feet separating the two of them, but he knew in the heat of battle that was a small distance. Realizing what he was doing he made a move to sheath his sword, it would not do to insult or threaten a person who was in his future wife’s party. It was only then that he realized he had no scabbard, seeing as it was discarded along with his belt some three feet behind him.

And while he didn’t know a lot about the Satyr’s culture he doubted showing her his back was a respectful sign, to a human it would have said that he felt she was not even worth the effort to keep his eye on her. He also couldn’t discard the sword, his honor forbade it. So with an inward sigh for allowing himself to get into a situation like this he planted the tip of the sword into the ground and rested a single hand on the pommel in a non-threatening manner.

The Satyr also stood up straighter, and lowered the spear point. He looked at her, she was a small thing, lean and muscled, her high angular face was crowned with two lioness ears and wreathed in golden blond curls that matched her furry ear’s color exactly. Her arms were muscled beyond that of any woman’s he had ever seen, not grotesquely or anything, but she definitely was stronger than any other woman he had seen. Her breasts that were covered in a strange covering that covered one shoulder and left the other bare and also left her midriff bare were extremely small if the bulges in the cloth were anything to judge by. Her wide hips were covered in a skirt of strange design that split allowing her free motion of her legs. Her legs were where his eyes caught however, each was a twin jointed lion’s leg, they were much too long for her body and ended in wide paws and was covered in short golden fur the same color of her hair. She didn’t wear any shoes, and the black claws of her paws flexed in and out as they dug into the grass, a lion’s tail even swished behind her. Shaking himself he looked up to her face again and for the first time saw her eyes.

Most Satyr’s eyes were gold according to the material he had read about them, but this woman, she had the eyes of a deep blue sapphire, they were still the eyes of a cat, no white to be found and slip pupils, but they were at least a very pretty blue. He looked her over, and it would seem as though she was wearing simple clothes, she would not be his bride would she, surely the princess would have guards and be better clothed than this correct? Since she was not his bride perhaps he could ask some questions, clear up some misunderstandings and misconceptions he had before he embraced himself.

“My apologies, I was so focused I didn’t hear you,” he said bowing his head slightly. “I did not mean to offend.”

“Nor did I.” The Satyr woman said simply, resting the butt of her spear on the ground. “You are the first human to talk to me, I attempted to speak to some others but they all seemed to be frightened and ran away from me, I have some questions about human customs, if you don’t mind me asking.” His brows rose, what a stroke of luck, this was exactly what he needed.

“I also am curious about Satyr customs, so how about this, I will answer one and you will answer another.” She nodded at this her face thoughtful. “I however warn you I have no idea what is considered taboo or distasteful of your culture and people, I might ask something I am not supposed to…”

“I will let you know when you stray into territory not safe, if you in turn do the same.” She said, to which he nodded his head this time. “I will start, what is the significance of chains?”

“Chains?” he asked confused.

“Chains, for the neck and hands, I saw they are part of the garment for mate binding.” Brandt turned the question over in his head, at least until he recognized mate binding was likely the Satyr word for marriage. When he realized this color flooded his face red. “I am sorry did I insult you in some wa-”

“No,” he said, his voice cutting off her own. “it would seem as though someone wants to dishonor the Satyrs,” he growled.

“Should the chains be refused?” she asked.

“No, I will make it so the issue is fixed on this side, as for your question the chains are part of certain marriage ceremonies, the chains signify the one wearing them is wholly the possession of the other, every decision is not their own but their spouses, I will see that this is fixed, neither of our nation's can afford to offend the other.”

“It will be handled?” she asked, looking at him suspiciously.

“It will be,” he nodded firmly. “Was that answer to your satisfaction?” she nodded and he asked his question. “What will be expected of the groom at this wedding, I heard there was some parts of it from your culture.”

“The only thing added to the ceremony was the Haruki, a hunt, it is traditional that the male demonstrates his ability to feed his new wife, the male is expected to capture and kill the creature, and bring it back to the wife.” She sighed, “It would seem your people are not the only ones seeking to insult the other party, the animal is typically a Ratyu or a Samiu but this time it is a Hasu, a small animal renowned for its speed, fast even for us Satyr.” She sighed, “If the male cant kill the creature and bring it to the woman’s Cham it is a grave dishonor, and bindings have been called off because of it.”

“This Haruki, can the hunter use weapons?”

“No bows, and the final blow must be by the hunters hand.” She said and watched as he nodded, his head. “Why do you only have fur on your face?” she asked before realizing what she had said and worried she had offended him the first human to have spoken to her.

“I do not,” he said, and rolled back the sleeve of his padded gambeson, showing her the hair he had on his arms, “I have hair on my arms, my legs, and on my chest and other places, though the thickness ranges based on the area.” He answered honestly, he then asked her a question she was not prepared for. “Do you find me ugly?” she pulled back slightly, surprised.

“Honestly?” She asked looking at him, when he nodded she looked him up and down. “yes, hideously.” And without elaborating she asked her question. “And do you find me ugly?” he looked her up and down again before answering.

“Yes, grotesquely.” He stated simply, and as he did a small smile formed on his lips, and she found one forming on her lips on its own accord, and before either of them realized it they were both bursting out laughing. This went on for some time, each of them doubled over and in a bubble of mirth, when it died down she asked the next question.

“What do you find ugly about me?” she asked, flashing him a smile, her sharp white teeth causing him to flinch slightly as her predatory fangs showed.

“Hmm, perhaps ugly was not the right word, I find those teeth for example disconcerting, like that of a predator or a monster, and your eyes, they're so, well once again predatory, looking into them causes me to feel some sort of unease deep in my stomach, and your legs,” he shuddered as he looked at them, “They just aren’t right.” he laughed again, “And you, what make me ugly?”

“Much the same as what you have said of me, your eyes are just wrong, they are floating in white, and the way they roam around,” she shuddered, as his eyes did exactly what she was talking about. “How do you even walk with legs like those, or run?” she said with a laugh as he shrugged, “And that fur on your arms, that is definitely not right.”

“Men don’t have hair elsewhere on their bodies?”

“They do indeed, but they have actual fur, there is less hair on those arms of yours then my aged grandfather, and he is known as Sulos the hairless. ” She could see the skin under the fur on his arms, why was it so thin? “And your ears, they are shaped wrong,” she pointed to her at ears, “How can you even hear with them on the side of your head, how do you swivel them to hear?”

“Your ears swivel?” He asked an eyebrow rose. She showed him and laughed at the strange look he was giving her. He laughed along, finding that though he was not attracted to the Satyr her company was refreshing when compared to the normal human women he was used to, he hoped his new bride was like her, it would make his getting along with her easier. He gauged the sun in the sky and sighed. “Sadly I must leave you, I have things to do and get ready for, farewell predatory hag.” He laughed.

“Farewell ugly flatface.” She laughed back, and he moved to pick up his scabbard, and re sheathed the blade and was making his way back to the manor. She liked this human, he was not good looking, but his attitude was fun. With a startle she realized she had never asked his name and called out to his retreating back. “Flatface, what is your name?” he didn’t look back just called out with a laugh over his shoulder.

“Brandt.” He didn’t notice her eyes go wide.

There was no way her luck was this good was there? Could he be the man she had been sent to bind with?

***

Lira opened her eyes and looked up at the face of Leon, who was kneeling over her holding her close to his chest. He smiled as she opened her eyes, a relieved expression on his face, he breathed out a sigh.

“You had me scared there,” he whispered, holding her tighter.

“What happened?” she asked, she was feeling weird, stiffer, especially below the waist.

“You passed out, and started convulsing, I was going to mobilize you but Leon held me back and told me that you needed to work this out, or it would only get worse next time.” Lira looked over at Krya who was standing a little away.

“Work what out?” she asked, gods, what was that feeling?

“It would seem as though you went through a second Merge, though I have never heard of such a thing,” Krya glanced down at Lira’s lower body, and Lira found she could no longer ignore the feeling, sitting up slightly she looked down at herself, and was shocked to find her legs were no longer the same.

Rather they were like those of the Satyr woman in her dream, only silver like the color of her hair. Reaching up she felt a wash of relief when she found no ears on top of her head, but still the legs remained. Which could only mean one thing.

“Leon,” she looked at him still sitting there, his eyes transfixed on her lower torso like it was something that brought back memories long past. “Leon,” he looked up at her, “Who was Brandt?” a smile split his stern features.

“I have not heard you call me that in quite a long time, Riya, my lioness.” he said softly, his red eyes half lidded with long forgotten memories of lives past.