When she at last reached the dead man, the edges of her vision spun. Nausea welled within her, strengthening along with the images that played forward in her mind over and over again, a mixture of his memories and his death. Amelia grabbed the spear shaft and jerked back. It came out with a sickening shunk. Blood poured out with it, staining the stone.
She was a failure, and this man had died.
Some of the man's blood trickled onto her hand as she made her way back. This is wrong, Amelia thought. This man is my enemy. He is one of the men who killed my people. This is what I do. These men are guilty. There is no question of that. You have to do this.
A cold bead formed in her mind. It expanded as she focused on how important this was. Yes, this man had lived a life that was more than inflicting horror and terror, but he deserved to die. He was one of the enemies of her people, and he had chosen this path.
Her pace slowed. Everything was hard at first. That was all this was. The first time she had sewed up a wounded dog's leg she had nearly vomited. The second time it was easier. It had been the same with every task.
This time she wouldn't look.
Naatos and AaQar remained in heated conversation at the far end of the dais. WroOth stood behind AaQar, his gaze flicking between the two and then drifting back to her. He tilted his head when she stopped.
"Amelia…" His voice held a cautionary tone. "Bring Naatos the spear."
The cold bead within Amelia's mind expanded. It was completely clear. She found the balance point on the spear as she turned and aimed.
"Naatos, stop her!" WroOth shouted.
Amelia hurled the spear at the second prisoner, following through the motion just as she had practiced on countless other occasions.
The spear had no sooner left her hands when AaQar tackled her from the side. Naatos lunged forward, transforming in midair to a black scaled serpent. He snatched the spear from the air, ripping it back as it grazed the man's chest.
Gasping, Amelia struggled to get up. AaQar rolled off her, his breaths labored. "You should not have done that."
Amelia winced but ignored him. Her palms were bloodied, but the pain in her elmis shot through her like far deeper wounds. "Why did you do that?" she demanded.
AaQar helped her to her feet, his grip even stronger than before. "Are you satisfied now, Naatos?" AaQar demanded.
"Not particularly." Naatos strode back toward them and telescoped the spear down to its smaller size. "But for now, it's time for breakfast. We have a great deal to discuss."
29
A Discussion at Breakfast
Naatos and his brothers refused to explain any further, and Amelia could find no reason for their latest actions. The Talbokians murmured and whispered among themselves, obviously confused. Naatos hung the spear once more at his side and did not look at her again. AaQar kept his hand firmly on her arm as they returned. Even WroOth refrained from joking until they reached the common room.
The large sideboard had been filled with all kinds of fresh meats, cheese, and bread. There were bowls of shelled nuts, boiled eggs, and pickled organ meat lined up on the white linen cloth. Naatos handed Amelia one of the wooden plates.
"What about Shon and Matthu?” she asked. “The other Ayamin? Have you fed them?"
"They will be fed. But only if you eat." Naatos set his hands on her shoulders and pushed her forward. "We talk after we eat."
It had been hours since she'd eaten, but Amelia did not feel hungry. Still, she knew better than to pass up the opportunity. Uncle Joe had always stressed that water, food, and sleep should be taken when available in a survival situation. She selected a few pieces and sat at the table.
Naatos, AaQar, and WroOth likewise filled their plates.
Amelia picked at the bacon, feeling a strange mixture of elation and fear. If Naatos hadn't snagged the spear from the air, she would have killed that man. She could kill. That was obvious.
"One big happy family gathered around the breakfast table." WroOth nudged Amelia's shoulder as he passed by. He rounded the table and sat across from her. "I imagine this will be a regular occurrence."
Naatos took a seat next to Amelia, and AaQar sat at the head of the table. All three of the brothers had two plates stacked high with food.
Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but Naatos shushed her. "We do not talk before we eat."
Amelia leaned her chin against her fist.
It didn't surprise her that Vawtrians required so much food. She couldn't imagine how many calories a single transformation would require, but she imagined it was intense. Healing probably consumed a great deal also.
She ate one of the boiled eggs. It had a distinctively sharp taste from being marinated in vinegar and salt. The venison, though tough, had been brined, but the beef was far too salty. She drank three glasses of water to compensate.
The bread, at least, was comforting. She remembered these old cardamom and cinnamon loaves, slightly sweet and brushed with butter. Each loaf was the size of her hand, woven in a six-part braid.
Amelia tore off bite-sized pieces. The last time she had tasted this she had hid in the lilac bushes of her labyrinth because she hadn't been allowed to play with two of the nobles' daughters. It was before she had gotten used to the rules, and it had felt so tragically unfair. So…horrifying. To know she was a monster.
King Theol had joined her in the garden, sitting beside her, not worrying about the little ants crawling over his fine robes. He'd spoken to her as if she were a grown-up. Explained that she was the Third Nalenth. Then he'd shared one of the little loaves with her. "It'll all make sense one day, Inale," he had said.
Yet another promise that had yet to come true. Given what had happened today, none of it made sense. Amelia shook her head, taking a bite. The yeasty taste filled her mouth, but it soured in her stomach. Where was King Theol now? She knew he would be all right for the moment. The Paras had to have him alive. She started to pray for him but stopped. What good were these prayers she had been saying? Elonumato had not been answering them. It was arguable that He had provided a miracle by forcing Shon and Matthu to give away the fact that she was Inale. But what benefit did her being chewed up by spiders serve in the greater plan?
Her appetite evaporated further as she recalled those horrible creatures. Naatos and his brothers, however, continued to eat. Amelia picked at her food, pondering her situation. At last she came up with a solution. She folded her hands and leaned her elbows against the table. "I've decided you're an idiot, Naatos, and clearly you're hoping I am the same."
Everyone stopped and looked at her. Silence filled the room for several moments. "Naatos," WroOth said, lowering his fork. "She flirts like you."
Naatos picked up one of the loaves of bread and tore it in half, shaking his head. "Well, Amelia, I am starting to think you might be one. But if I am, what does that say about your precious Ayamin? They were, after all, so easily routed."
"You're an idiot because you want me to be your wife. I am supposed to destroy you, and I will. I proved out there that I can kill if I must, and, clearly with you, I must kill."
AaQar turned his goblet over in his hands, his gaze focused on it. "This will be a fun conversation."
Naatos exchanged glances with WroOth and propped his arms on the table. "Amelia, you can never kill anyone."
Amelia clenched her jaw. "I know. You told me only one in a thousand Neyeb can ever kill. But I am one of those few. It isn't easy for me, but no one said it had to be. That might even be a good thing. Killing should never be treated lightly. All that matters is that I can." Her voice became stronger as she finished that statement, the words as much for her as for Naatos.
"Perhaps so." The faintest hint of a smile tinged Naatos's lips, as if he were holding something back. "But we'll never know because you, Amelia, are under a blood curse. You are a blood child. Fortunately for you, it does not mean what so many among your people thought." He stretched back in the chair and picked up a book that had bee
n set out. "This is an old text, even by my standards, but it outlines some of the basic information of the blood curse. It's also known as the Butcher's Curse or Sevro's Pact. It's a race's chance for a new start."
"I am willing to be a monster if it means stopping you," Amelia said tightly. "I have feared it for years, but I have also been preparing. And when the curse takes me, I will be ready. You are the one who should be afraid. All of you."
"Well, what you are does start with an 'm.'" Naatos pointed to the page and pushed the book toward her. "But it is not a monster. You are going to be a mother."
Amelia stared at the page, not believing what she read. The text outlined the basic purpose of the blood curse. It was the chance for a race to start again, quite literally. Forty victims with the desired skills had to lay down their lives, their life blood drained into a stone vessel, the essence of all that they were distilled and impressed upon a baby girl. When that girl grew up, she would have the purest of those abilities as well as the ability to pass it on to her husband and her children.
Bile rose in Amelia's throat. Strange memories pressed at the edges of her mind, memories she didn't want or recognize. She thrust them back, a chill spreading through her.
"It's a violent pact, forbidden except in the most dire of circumstances. But your mother, Salanca, had other thoughts. She stole and murdered forty children to make you what you are."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Amelia held up her hands. "My mother did what?"
"She captured and drained the life blood from forty children under the age of five to make you a blood child," Naatos said slower this time.
"Why?" The chill expanded into nausea. Amelia couldn't move from the chair. As much as she had hated the blood curse, she had never known that it came with that price.
"To create a new race."
"No! Why did she want to do that? Why was it needed? Why in all the thirty-six inhabited worlds would anyone do something like that? Why does that curse even exist?"
"Why does any curse exist?" AaQar refilled his goblet.
"Your mother wanted to remake the Neyeb. She felt that they had become weak," Naatos said.
"So that justifies killing forty kids?" Amelia demanded.
"You will have no argument from me on that point." Naatos placed his hand on the table. "But that is not where this stops. There are consequences to the curse."
"Other than forty children dying?" Amelia folded her arms tight against her chest.
"Yes, unfortunately for you, you must bear those consequences. Kill even one person of any race, and you, Amelia, must repay every drop of blood and suffering that the curse required for its completion. You will die in chilling agony, bleeding from the points where the essence was instilled. In your case, your elmis. Your children though will go on to form the base of this new race. As much as I despised Salanca, her decision to make you a blood child has saved the Neyeb from extinction as you did somehow survive the massacre."
"The massacre?" Amelia echoed.
"A long and unpleasant story." AaQar remained focused on his goblet.
"Yes." For once, a shade of sadness swept over Naatos's face, lingering in his eyes before vanishing. "The Neyeb as we knew them are gone, but within you there lies hope of a form of them to continue. However, you cannot do this alone."
"And by not doing this alone, you mean I have to do it with you," Amelia said.
"Yes." Naatos nodded.
"No…" Amelia stared at the book, her nerves tightening. She felt as if someone was systematically stripping her of all her gifts and strengths and planting weaknesses and helplessness instead. "I am the only one who can stop you three. That is what I am meant to do."
"That is puzzling, isn't it?" Naatos smiled, his satisfaction now apparent as he leaned back in the wooden chair. "I admit, I do not understand why Elonumato would do that. But it is so. And the curse's effect is immediate. So even if you were willing to die to fulfill this so-called destiny, you would not succeed. It is quite difficult to kill a single Vawtrian, let alone three."
"Unless…" Amelia broke off, realizing she was about to say it out loud.
"Unless you kill us all at once? That would be remarkable. If you are hoping to use what they call 'bombs' in your world, I wouldn't recommend it or any of the weapons from Eiram really. Radiation does strange things to Vawtrians." Naatos tore apart another loaf. "Generally not death things. More loss of control, bad for all sentient residents sort of things."
"And the non-radiation kind only annoy us." WroOth laughed as he leaned forward. "Do you want to know what is generally done when a Vawtrian turns fifty-seven? He must—"
AaQar tapped WroOth on the arm. "Not now. Naatos, ask her."
Naatos smiled slightly. He offered Amelia a piece of torn bread. "Our marriage went into effect as soon as you turned twenty-four. That is non-negotiable. However, your cooperation would make all of this significantly simpler."
"My cooperation?" Amelia drew the book closer. It was the first book she had ever seen that mentioned the curse. Perhaps it contained a way to break it.
Naatos placed his hand over hers. "Yes. The prophecies do not say you must stop us. They do not say you must kill us. What they reveal is that if anyone is going to stop us, it is you. So…make another choice. Accept your marriage to me. Be the mother of this New Neyeb race. Restore the Tue-Rah. Then live. Understand that if you persist with being the Third Nalenth as you know it, your life will end within a matter of months. Perhaps a year or three at most. And what a horrid waste that would be."
"I will not help you seize more power. I have seen your cruelty!" Amelia clenched her fist. "You ambushed and slaughtered my people. You threw me into—"
"Yes. I remember what I did." Naatos's voice sharpened before he caught himself. Closing his eyes, he paused. "All that aside," he said, his tone gentler. "This new development is for the best. You are upset with what has been done, and I recognize that. However, you can make a difference. More of a difference this way than in the other. You could have some influence on what we do. How we rule. My brothers' wives are no longer among us. Nor are their children. Though I would father the children, those you bear will go on to be all my brothers' and my heirs, and you will help to raise them. Our children will be stronger than you could have ever hoped. And more than that, you would have my love."
"Your love?" Amelia echoed. Now that was the perfect touch of ridiculousness to this entire bizarre charade. She stared at him with disgust. "What does that even mean? Your love. Until you decide you prefer some other woman, and I mysteriously disappear. You are a liar and a despot. Neither of which are promising when it comes to marital fidelity or anything else."
"Like I told you, Vawtrians only marry once. This is not a matter of law or custom. It is a matter of nature. Once a Vawtrian chooses a mate, there is no other. There can never be another. You would have no competition for my affection. No reason to fear for anything from me." Naatos stroked her hand, his fingers curling around her wrist, pressing the outer edges of her elmis. "You may not think me capable of love, but once the locking occurs, all that will change."
"The locking." Amelia pushed his hands aside, her skin prickling. She shuddered. Just having his hands near her reminded her of how he'd held her out over that spider pit and dropped her. "What's that? A euphemism for sex?"
"No. The locking is what joins a Vawtrian to his spouse and unleashes the urge to mate. It is biology. While there are multiple locations where this connection can take place including the lips and fingertips, the inside of the wrist is considered most vulnerable. The skin is thicker in childhood but then thins when we reach sexual maturity."
"I really don't need to hear you say that ever again," Amelia said, shaking her head. "This conversation can stop."
"That is why we wear gloves."
"Oh good. I wear gloves because I don't want to turn into a homicidal maniac." Amelia glared at him.
"Otherwise, we run the risk of making contact with a biolog
ically and hormonally compatible sentient and forming a permanent bond," Naatos said. "Until the locking, a Vawtrian has no sexual urges, let alone temptations. Attraction may occur, but it takes more than that to form a bond. Once the bond happens, a biological dependency is developed, and those desires and urges are connected irrevocably to the recipient. In some cases, as age progresses, other areas weaken as well, making the Vawtrian more susceptible. It is a very serious matter." Naatos lifted his hand as if to indicate she could speak. "I can give you time to consider this, if you like. There are no appealing alternatives to this relationship. Ten minutes should be sufficient."
"I don't even need that long. This is utterly ridiculous." Amelia straightened herself in the chair, realizing she shouldn't directly refuse until she took care of her people. The silence hung in the air, awkward in its tension. "But first…the Ayamin—"
"Yes. That does bring us to an interesting point." Naatos drank from his goblet, then paused. "You might as well know. Our forces have successfully captured all of your Ayamin waypoints. There are a number who have been brought here. But, as of right now, Libysha is entirely under our control. Your country is vanquished. The regiments will be moving toward Reda and Nalthume next. Most everyone who matters has been captured."
Amelia's mouth went dry. "You…captured my mother."
"No. No one has seen Salanca for years," Naatos said. "Mainly because she died."
"I mean—"
"I know who you mean. Alita has not been found yet, but she will be soon enough. I do not say this to make you worry. The queen's execution has been removed from the roster. I know you still hold feelings for your adopted family, and I honor that."
"Thank you." Amelia watched him, not certain what words were best. Her uneasiness increased. "And all of this, of course, hinges on whether I accept that I am your wife."
"Not at all. The queen never posed a threat to me. Her death was intended as a symbolic undercutting of the king's authority and a message to the people and to the other nations. However, the fact that you, their adopted daughter, are now my wife rather than a child who disappeared during the battle should have a similar effect. Provided the right information is conveyed, of course. As for other policies to be enacted in the conquest, whether I or my brothers listen to you all depends on how you behave toward me. If you are a good wife, I will listen. If you are a bad wife, I won't."
Identity Revealed: The Tue-Rah Chronicles Page 27