One

Four moons before the Consort Ceremony

The clouds had cast a silver spell across the land, bathing every surface in a shadowed embrace. As if that could hide the promise of spring. Not that that mattered much in the barracks. Through the stone walls, the faint symphony of metal against metal and low grunts could be heard. The sound was a familiar and calming balm to the anxiety that rose in Theory. 

He'd much rather be out there, training, working out all the pent-up energy that vibrated in his bones, begging to be released in any way possible. But it was the fourth moon cycle of the year and it was his turn to help unload the supplies for the apothecary. As much as he hated it he could not afford to miss it. Carriers had to earn their tonics or suffer through the unbearable season of their heat. It was law in southern Rhettick, enforced especially in the military settlements throughout Astoria.

Sweat covered his golden brown skin despite the cool temperature of the fallen seasons, forcing the fabric of his tunic to cling to him uncomfortably. He hoped there would be enough time to bathe before training started; he'd catch his death if he went out in damp clothing.

After emptying the last of the crates from the carriage into the storage shed, Theory slipped into the apothecary in search of Haywen. The healer was crouched behind one of the large oak tables, attempting to coax out a scroll that had fallen and rolled behind one of the shelves. 

"Haywen?"

The healer jumped, bumping his head with a yelp. His large black eyes were wide as he met Theory's gaze. Hurrying to his feet, Haywen dusted his clothes off. 

When it seemed the golden frog Shifter had regained his composure, Theory continued. 

"I've finished unpacking the last carriage. Is there anything else you need me to do?"

Haywen glanced all around, obviously seeing what Theory could not within the mess of crates and bottles of herbs, before giving a quick shake of his head. 

"Thank you for your help, Theory. That's about all I need for today."

Theory nodded then waited. The two stared at each other awkwardly with Haywen blinking his giant, solid black eyes in confusion. Theory pointedly glanced at a bottle of herbs before the realization finally dawned on the healer. 

"Yes! Right, the tonic!" Haywen scurried over to one of the massive shelves stocked with vials and pouches before grabbing a familiar vial with a dark green liquid. After handing the vial to him, he grabbed the orb from his table, tapping the screen while logging in Theory's information. 

Theory nodded his thanks though the healer didn't see it, before quickly making a move to leave. 

"Theory," Haywen called. 

Theory tensed, halting his escape, shoulders hunching. He didn't dare look back. He couldn't see the male's face, but he knew what would be there.

Pity.

"You'll have to tell someone eventually. I can't hide the logs forever," Haywen said softly. It was the same thing he'd been telling him for years. It wouldn't change anything.

"I'm fine," Theory grunted. 

Haywen sighed, but didn't push. He rarely did.

Theory left before he had the chance to anyway, heading for the bathing rooms and hoping it was empty. He didn't want anyone to witness his panic. Shifters, no matter the type, could sniff out weakness and use it to their advantage. Theory didn't want to give them the opportunity, especially when tasks were being assigned soon. But the reality of his situation settled in his gut like a weight with no limit. Piling burden after burden, as if breath alone would be the end. 

He wasn't like the others. Not as fast. Not as strong. Worse still? He couldn't shift. 

There was no doubt that he was a Shapeshifter, it was in his blood, and confirmed with every heat he had endured after being classified a Carrier. Yet, no clan had claimed him. No Shifter could smell him. He was an enigma that all had given up trying to figure out. 

Not once in his life had he ever experienced a shift. There were no parents or siblings who could teach him. After all, he was found crying in the woods as a newborn by one of the nearby Pixies off on their monthly forage. Of course, once they figured out he was a Shifter, he was dumped at the doorstep of the nearest Shifter orphanage where he lived most of his life. Joining the Guard was his way out. His path to a better life. 

It would have worked out fine if it weren't for these damn heats. While the typical Carrier would experience them twice a year, Theory was cursed with one every moon cycle. He'd managed to hide it by getting tasks that kept him away during it for each moon. Because of his inability to shift and other reasons, most jobs he took, he did alone. He preferred solitude anyway. But if they thought he was weak, he'd lose his position in the queue and end up with one of the less desirable tasks. If that became a reality, he'd be found out immediately. 

And if they ever discovered his irregular heats, they'd deem him a liability and he'd be thrown out on the streets. He couldn't chance that.

Not again. 

He was grateful to Haywen for keeping his secret and supplying him with extra tonics, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that this would last forever. He just had to save up enough, then he'd finally be able to afford a nice cottage in the forests of central Rhettick, away from strangers. 

He had a goal, he couldn't let anything get in the way of that. 

And it was an achievable goal if he could just get through these damn heats undetected for a little bit longer. 

The bathing room was quiet, only the faint ripples of water from the baths could be heard. He was alone...at least that's what he thought at first.

As he turned the corner for the water spouts, he bumped into a solid wall of muscle. From the low grunt of annoyance, Theory knew exactly who it belonged to. 

Veniro glared at Theory with one blazing green eye and the other a startling red. His slitted pupils only emphasized their glow. They stared at one another for a few moments before Niro curled his lip in disgust and moved around him, warm brown skin still wet from the bath. 

Theory would admire the naked Breeder if he weren't such a prick. The two had hated each other for no particular reason other than instinct. He was one of those self-righteous types that thought Breeders were superior to Carriers. 

Still, he sneaked a peek at the taut backside from the corner of his eye before Niro disappeared from sight. 

Bastard.

Theory made quick work, washing under the spouts. He didn't have enough time to soak in the bath, though his sore muscles desperately begged him to. It would have to wait until after the task delegations. 

He hurriedly finished drying and dressing, ensuring he made it just in time. All of the Shifter warriors in the Astorian Guard at this encampment were gathered in the main yard in front of the wooden platform with one of the largest orbs Theory had ever seen. It was the fanciest piece in all of the barracks. Only the Incubi factions received higher quality accommodations, the lesser species, well, they made do.

It hovered in the air, round and glossy. Colors twirled on the inside, not yet displaying the assignments. Theory managed to check the list before reaching the yard and noted with relief that he had not slipped far from his frontal position in the queue. 

But as the names were read and tasks of choice displayed on the orb, Theory had yet to be called. When the twentieth warrior who he knew was after him in the queue, was called, he knew something was wrong.

It was confirmed when all the names were read and he had still not been called. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he waited for the yard to clear before he approached the scribe who was directing a few warriors where to take the orb. 

"Excuse me," Theory interrupted. "My name has not been called."

The scribe glanced at Theory with a quizzical expression before his eyes finally widened in what seemed like recognition, but Theory was sure he hadn't seen him around before. 

"Theory, correct?" the scribe asked. 

Theory nodded suspicously. 

"You've been given a special assignment. Lieutenant Boquin would like to see you." 

Frowning, Theory nodded, then headed for the Lieutenant's quarters where he was the most likely to be if not with the Captain. The halls were filled with the typical rush of warriors and servants, all performing their normal duties. It was only Theory that strayed from his set path around this time, twisting down the corridor that led to the Lieutenant's large double doors.

Fighting the weight in his stomach, Theory brushed his knuckles against the oak a couple of times until he heard the loud voice of Boquin granting him entry. 

Pushing open the door, he was greeted with the study. The room was smaller than the others but lavishly decorated. Tall bookshelves ate up the space on the walls and a large desk sat opposite the doorway. Theory expected Boquin to be seated there, but instead, Captain Aizend was. His presence dominated the space in the way his bulky form swallowed the chair he sat on. He was a large man, larger than most thanks to his bear Shifter nature. With broad musculature and dark hair covering his entire body, it was difficult for anyone to mistake his nature. 

Off to the side stood Lieutenant Boquin. Slighter than Aizend, but not by much, with copper curls and large eyes, the horse Shifter still held his own in comparison. 

But the most shocking guest of all? 

Niro. He stood opposite of the two, tucked into the corner, leaning against the wall with none of the nonchalance Theory felt. 

"Is this a bad time?" Theory asked, glancing around, prepared to make a hasty retreat. 

"No, quite perfect actually. Come in, have a seat," Aizend commanded.