coming into their natures. Alec had been fostered in the south; Calum spent his teen years in England, Tynan in Ireland. Their acquired accents lingered on.
“I, too, would like to hear the answer to that.” Calum placed a cup of coffee—black—in front of Tynan before sitting. A couple of inches shorter than his littermate, the Cosantir had an olive complexion, dark gray eyes, and black hair pulled back in a leather tie. As reserved as his littermate was sociable.
“I’d like to stay.” Tynan took a sip of coffee. The fragrant dark roast was prepared exactly as he liked it.
The Cosantir had a reputation for discovering everything about the shifters in his territory. He was also known for being fair, although not easygoing in the least. He’d banished quite a few shifters, including a male who’d caused permanent damage to another during a Gathering fight.
Calum’s smile was worrisome. The Cosantir was a werecat—and panthers played with their prey. “In that case, I’d like to hear how you came to be in Seattle. Unless it’s a secret?”
Tynan’s gut tightened. The reason he’d been in Seattle was an ugly part of his past. Calum might not want a shifter like him in his territory—which would be hard on Donal.
Damn. He stared down at his coffee. Words had come easily to him at one time as had sharing his emotions. No longer. Not after hiding his very nature from the humans in the city. After guarding each word that came out of his mouth.
“It’s not a secret as such.” But he’d buried the painful past deep in his soul. He looked at the Cosantir and knew he had no choice. “After I returned to the States from fostering, Donal and I traveled. Settled here and there. Traveled more. The way single shifters do. One night, we attended a Gathering where—”
A fist seemed to squeeze his chest, locking the explanation within him.
Alec frowned and pushed Tynan’s coffee closer. “Take a sip of that and try again.” The sympathy in his voice sang beneath the order.
Tynan took a drink. “It was a rough Gathering. Unsupervised. A male attacked me when I was taking a pretty female to a mating room. I struck him back. Hit him hard. No question about that.”
He could still feel the impact of his fist on the male’s jaw, and the familiar self-reproach swept through him. Admittedly, the male had been an asshole. Tynan hadn’t wanted to fight; it wasn’t his way—yet backing down wasn’t in his nature either. “He tipped backward over a table, landed wrong, and broke his neck.”
Tynan had stood there. Waiting to continue the fight. Why didn’t the male rise? Walking around the table. Seeing…a body. The face turning a bluish-gray. The chest so still, not rising.
How long had he stood there in disbelief with horror growing within him? He’d looked for his littermate. But Donal had been called away for a healing.
Brawls happened at Gatherings. The air was filled with testosterone and the scents of aroused, willing females. Males showed off their prowess for the favor of a female. But the Daonain Law stated a male must cause no permanent harm to his opponent.
Death was very permanent. “I was banished.”
Alec tilted his head. “The Cosantir accused you of breaking the Law of the Fight?”
The Cosantir of that territory had slashed his claws across Tynan’s face. “Outcast you are, to be shunned by shifters and OtherFolk until the marks of banishment are gone.” Eventually, if a shifter repented, the Goddess might forgive the transgressor and turn the black scars to white.
“For an accidental death?” Calum frowned.
“The male was dead.” Tynan’s throat was tight. “And I was from out of territory. Not one of the Cosantir’s clan.”
“How long were you outcast?” Alec’s expression made Tynan stiffen. He didn’t need or deserve pity.
Although the banishment had been hard. To be shunned by the clan, family, and even OtherFolk like dwarves and pixies… It lacerated a shifter’s soul. Often, the banished simply gave up and died. Tynan had approached that point. He’d caught himself stalking a grizzly, thinking suicide by bear was an honorable enough ending. But, thinking of Donal, he’d pulled himself back. And survived.
“How long?” He took another drink of coffee to erase the taste of those days. “A month—maybe less. It’s not like I was looking in a mirror to see when the marks disappeared.”
“A month?” Calum shook his head. “Banishment for breaking the Law will last years, Tynan. I don’t think the Mother agreed with your sentence.”