Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1)

by Jonathan Michael

  He bellows a piss-worthy roar right in my face, and I let go of his neck, shrinking back toward the trunk of the tree.

  Suddenly, a fig pelts me in the head and splatters. Its innards run down my face. Then a few more pummel the two of us. Any remaining fury subdues, and I almost burst out laughing. I’m attacked by fruit-tossing apes. This is ridiculous. Not knowing what my intentions are, I drop to a branch below.

  Coloss rips his arms free of his bonds, snapping the thick branches like twigs, and drops to the ground, shattering several limbs on the way down, including the one I’m standing on. I land on two feet. “Goose the Great,” I mumble aloud as I stick the landing. The two of us are back on the forest floor. Without delay, Coloss explodes toward me on all fours. I stand my ground and close my eyes. Patience. Instincts. Listen. My talents are limitless. Today is the day. I open them when I feel his hot breath billowing down on me. He’s within an arm’s reach, towering over me. But his gaze is fixed behind me. His rage dissolves.

  “I’m sorry,” I communicate. But I know not if he listens. “I’m a child in this world, merely trying to be great and failing miserably. Today is the day I am ready to listen.” I stare at him, awaiting acknowledgement. “If you will to speak to me,” I add.

  A moment passes, and the youthful ape which Coloss presumed dead comes staggering over to the base of the tree with the hind quarter in its grip. I realize now it’s what his gaze was fixed upon. Any fury consuming Coloss is now gone and replaced with something quite the opposite. He wants to go to his child, but he’s hesitant. He remains unsure of my intentions.

  “Go to him.” I put it simply. Although I can sense what I intend to say, I don’t truly know how it’s perceived on the other end. I step from his shadow and stagger to Zoie. The emotional duress has left me fatigued. I cradle her in my arms and hold her for a long while.

  Coloss embraces his child. In hindsight, I see he is much more than a raging, barbaric beast. He is Coloss the Great. He is the guardian of his family. He is the guardian of this village. He is the guardian of life. He is the Guardian of Azure. And I tried to kill him. More than once. It is decided. I’m not worthy.

  All of Azure is in upheaval. The People’s War, once culminating, now everlasting. The Taoiseach has no control over his power and hungers for destruction. The amount of loss is devastating. Trade has halted. Slavery has plagued us. Agriculture has been abandoned, and villages have decayed. The summer has fled us too soon, and the blame goes, not to the one causing the destruction, but to the Hybreed and his failing religion. I won’t falter. I will dine with fear himself if I must.

  39 Jaymes

  “S

  he has expanded her skills, instincts, and talent immensely, sir.” Ellia briefs the Taoiseach. “It’s unusual how quick she takes what I have to offer her. The once insolent brat has morphed into a worthy protégé. All it took was to bloody her hands.”

  Crouched below the window, I listen in on their conversation from outside the Taoiseach’s private chambers. I risk my life being up here. Though, what is life without risk? More than a month ago during the massacre at The Jack Rose, I knew nothing about being an assassin. I knew nothing about the shadows, my skillset, or death. Ellia has given me so much since then, the risk is hardly there. I now understand how to wall off my thoughts to protect myself from her Instincts—the name she has for her mind-reading skill. She claims she was growing tired of listening to the nonsense I let escape, so she helped me control it. I asked her to teach me how to use my own Instincts, but she refused, claiming it would be too much knowledge for my immature mind. A typical response when she doesn’t want to give something up. But what Ellia doesn’t know is I’ve been meeting with Harris’ handmaid, Sasha Greyheart. Turns out she’s Astor’s sister, for which my initial reaction was to punish her in some way. Revenge for stealing away my brother. But I recalled back on what Elder said to me. About her being a mute and learning how to communicate from her. Turns out she’s being trained in some of the secrets Harris has to offer as well. Instincts are a tough skillset to grasp, but I’ll get there.

  Ellia has also taught me several skills in the art of stealth and combat, one of which is the ability to repel from the rooftop. Both walling off my thoughts and repelling have been rather helpful as I sneak about the Taoiseach’s third floor balcony. But Ellia is wrong. I cannot give credit of my receptiveness to the blood on my hands. I won’t deny it has changed me. Death has stolen a piece of me that will never be returned, as Ellia tried to explain. But death sent me running. Afraid. Fearful of the callous world I was being dragged into. No, it wasn’t bloody hands that provoked me. It was my own brother, Stone.

  I shake my head at the thought of him. It does me no good to dwell on his abandonment. He’s chosen his life. And I, mine. I push that speculation to the side and focus on why I’m here.

  As I discovered when I first stepped foot on the Taoiseach’s estate, he doesn’t bother himself with too much security aside from the man-eating walls surrounding him. He’s the most powerful and talented man in Vedora, and fortunately for me, his arrogance benefits my end goal. Though, the lack of guards does make me wary. Does that mean he is immortal, just as the world believes him to be? He’s only a man. How could he possibly be immortal? He must have a weakness. Somewhere.

  He’s only a man—I repeat the notion in my head—and I will find his weakness. From the handful of instances I’ve perched upon his balcony, I come out with some gain, whether it be meek or massive. This time, listening in on both the Shadow and the Taoiseach, my expectations are much higher. I sink tight under the window and listen.

  “Yes, I always understood the potential she possessed, but what of the self-discipline. Has she managed to show any promise? I’ve already concluded she’s no Hybreed, so she is useless unless she will obey,” he responds.

  Hybreed? Me? This is already paying off. I’m no Hybreed. I can assure him that, but why in Susy’s four hells is Harris looking for a Hybreed? Does that mean they’re real? I suppose I knew nothing about Instincts when the season began, so why not Hybreeds too? Or is this the kind of thing a near immortal does when he gets bored—he seeks out the impossible?

  There’s a moment of silence before Ellia responds. How I wish my progress in using Instincts was further along. I would like to know what she’s pondering.

  “Yes, sir. Since the moment I removed the sass-spitter from her mouth, her willingness to listen and fulfill requests has been nothing short of expectation.”

  A grin forms on my face. My best deception yet. So simple. I haven’t spoken around Ellia since I earned this consequence. I stick my fingers in my mouth and glide them across my forked nub of a tongue. It’s comfortable by now. And I have figured out how to speak with it. Enunciation is a challenge, but I can speak. Ellia doesn’t know this.

  “And what is your expectation, Ellia?” The Taoiseach tests her.

  “Perfection, sir.” She answers correctly. “My expectation is absolute submission and she has not faltered. A few mistakes with her decisions, but obedience has not been an issue. Like I said, she has improved immensely.”

  “And what is your purpose with her?” He asks another trying question.

  “My purpose, sir, is to generate another soldier…no, more than a soldier…a weapon. For you to use for your own agenda, sir.”

  “A weapon? Intriguing, but not what I need. Humanity is weak. We know this. And I often wonder why I even hold on to the species. Why I try so hard to maintain our civilization. We’re hardly worth it. No, I don’t need a weapon. I need cunning, confidence, discipline, and a lethal dose of seduction to woo the hearts, or cocks, of my enemies. And then strike them down when they’re most vulnerable. Everything you possess, Ellia. You are the only weapon necessary. Unless you are no longer up to the task.”

  Without poking my head over the sill, I can’t fully comprehend the situation. Depending on the facial expressions conjuring on the Taoiseach’s face right now, he could eithe
r be utterly sincere with his response or seeking out more of Ellia’s agenda. I don’t even know her plans for me. She’s impossible to read. Sometimes, she touts how great Harris is, and other moments, she entertains the idea of me assassinating the man. He is only a man, I reassure myself. Maybe Harris has similar challenges with her. Based on the nature of the man, I would presume he’s prodding further into her agenda. There isn’t a considerate bone in him that would give Ellia the compliments she deserves.

  “Then, I shall continue perfecting her skills and talents and hold her in reserve. The risks I encounter are endless, so it would not hurt to have a reserve, sir. Consider her the next in line. Your protégé in waiting.”

  “My next protégé, you say? Is she worthy of being the Shadow? Has she been through the rigorous tests you’ve endured to become who you are?”

  The Shadow? Does she really think me worthy of that role? Do I even want that role? I’m on a mission to kill the man. It would put me closer to him, certainly. And it could reveal his deepest secrets. Like why he’s searching for a Hybreed. And how he was involved with the death of my parents. What a heavy weight to carry, being the Shadow. But that moment is too far off to brood on.

  “Not entirely, sir. I don’t intend on leaving you so quickly. We have time yet to rid her of her heart and soul.”

  I need to see her eyes, or rather her eye. There’s no doubt she’s concealing the other, even if she’s in private quarters with the Taoiseach. I need to see if she is being truthful or imposing a false confidence into the Taoiseach’s future. Not that he would believe her lies, but I would like to know. Damn, those Instincts would be handy right now. And why does she believe the Taoiseach will outlast her? She has a hazardous occupation, nonetheless, but the Taoiseach’s is no less risky. Plus, he must be three times her age. He’s just a man. Or maybe she’s planning on leaving his side for something more, or less, I suppose. But he wouldn’t just let her leave…would he? I must find out more. I poke my head above the ledge just enough for my eyes to peer over it.

  I don’t see the Taoiseach, but I know he sits in his high-backed, uncomfortable ironwood chair because Ellia is standing just on the other side of his desk. My assumption is confirmed when the Taoiseach’s arm reaches to fill his glass. Dirty scotch. He offered me a sip once before. I don’t know how any man’s tongue can withstand that awful taste. It’s like drinking poison willingly.

  While the Taoiseach is distracted with his drink, and somehow without looking at me, Ellia sends a glance my way. I hastily duck out of sight. How did she know I was here?

  I peek back over the ledge once more. The consequences won’t be any more severe because I held my ground. For being seen, she will give me lashes and likely send me out on a mission that involves a band of immoral drunken fisherman, but I won’t be punished for staying put. If anything, she’d praise me for not backing down. So, I continue listening in on the conversation, hoping it will yet hold some value from the Taoiseach. Ellia will give me nothing.

  “Yes. Well…” The Taoiseach carries on the conversation. “…we don’t need to desensitize her so much that she is cold to the touch. You’ll turn her into one of those bloodless Nocturnal Eyes if you’re not too careful. But having a reserve on hand will do us well. I will need to get to know her better. Have her meet me this evening. We will dine together.”

  Nocturnal Eyes? I don’t know what that is. Maybe some form of disgusting creature that dwells in the darkest crevasses of the world. I cast it to the side. Not important.

  “Taoiseach, sir? May I speak freely?” Ellia asks the Taoiseach respectfully. He is the only man I have ever seen her treat this way.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you certain of this? Although she no longer has a tongue to spit uncouth remarks, she is not fully trained as a lady. Her table manners have not been a priority, and they are unpleasant at best. I don’t wish for you to be offended by her offhandedness.”

  “Thank you for setting the expectation. I will send Sasha to summon for her.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dinner with the Taoiseach? He knows there is more to this masquerade than simply molding another soldier for him to use at his own discretion. But what is all the masquerade for, Ellia? What are your plans for me? The thought comes, and I immediately dismiss it. It is only a distraction from my own goals.

  “Here.” Ellia tosses a gown in my direction. “Put this on.”

  I hold it up. My first concern is whether she’s having me dress like a lady proper or a lady of the night. It’s sort of…in between, which isn’t a bad thing. The gown is golden yellow, a little more on the burnt side than bright, and is trimmed with a dark-blue lace at the revealing neckline and around the hem. I press it to my chest. It’s above knee-length even for my petite frame. If this is Ellia’s dress, then I would argue it is a little too revealing on her.

  I turn my back to Ellia and disrobe. As I pull the dress over my head, my hand maiden, Nayettѐ, assists me in getting it positioned correctly. She gives it a solid tug at the hem to ensure it’s in place, then spins me and laces up the blue ribbon in back. Another spin so I’m facing her, and she adjusts my breasts, giving them a nudge and a tuck. It’s a little tight around the ribs, but I think that’s how it’s supposed to fit. I look at myself in the full-length mirror, and a smile slips through. I bite my inner lip to make it go away. Those feelings don’t benefit me anymore.

  “It looks good on you.” Ellia shares a compliment followed by a spiteful remark. “Your bosom doesn’t fill it the way it’s intended, and your hips are lacking in curves, but it’ll impress.”

  My bosom doesn’t fill it? Is it supposed to be tighter than this?

  “Your actions won’t go unpunished today. Don’t think you’re out of this free and clear. Sasha will be on her way to collect you any moment, so let’s get this mess atop your head fixed and powder up your face.”

  Ellia, in her own way, is a shape-shifter. She can easily transform from an assassin, to a whore, and back into the most eloquent lady all in a day’s time. And she has the same expectations for me.

  Nayettѐ sits me down at the vanity and combs my short, unkempt hair. She strokes her fingers through it in between brush strokes to detangle it as best she can. The result is still messy but in a stylish, cute bun, as opposed to disheveled and dirty as usual. Facing her, she slaps some light powder onto my face then lines my lips with an amber-colored lip balm. She stands back, and a thin smile crosses her dark cheeks. I’m not sure how to respond. I’ve never taken part in this feminine tradition before. Am I to smile in return, without knowing whether I look like a jester or a whore? Before it gets awkward, she places her hands on my shoulders and spins my chair to face the vanity mirror. The vanity is well lit by an array of candles at the base and two thunder lanterns above. My face is well lit, but it’s not me who I see. She’s beautiful as always. My smile fades before it can form when I see my mother’s reflection. My mind drifts to my last memory of being with her…

  The courtyard is ablaze with thunder lanterns and a gentle fire burns in the stone fire pit as I prep the outdoor table for a late-evening meal under the stars. The sun hasn’t entirely expelled us to the night, leaving a dim glow on the horizon with a few twinkles above. It’s a night free of Cerise’s unyielding red ambience. And warm, but cooling. Not one of those summer night’s that leaves you perspiring into the morning hours. It is a perfect mid-summer’s night.

  “A perfect ending to another wonderful Summer Solstice. Don’t you think, sweet Jay.”

  I glower at my mother. It was a perfect evening, but it could be better if the house staff didn’t have the evening off.

  My mother smiles, shakes her head, and goes back to preparing a late snack for the family. My father is in his athenaeum, studying a project he’s been working on for the Taoiseach. Something about iron tracks, I think. And my brother and Elder are playing at the edge of the courtyard where the Great Oaks border it. Me…I get to set the table while
everyone else is off enjoying themselves. It’s not fair. I fulfill my duties, nonetheless, by setting out dinnerware for the five of us.

  “Mother, may I go play with the boys now?”

  “What about the glassware, dear? We’re going to require a refreshment to complement the meal. Can you retrieve them as well please?”

  “But why?”

  Her head snaps in my direction, her brow curled inward. “Why? Because I asked you to, my dear.”

  “No. I mean why do we have to be in here preparing a meal while all the boys are off entertaining themselves?”

  “Well, sweet Jay, to tell you the truth, it’s because boys are helpless. If it weren’t for the ladies in their lives, they would all act like barbarians not knowing where their next meal is going to come from. It is up to us to take care of them.” She plucks a lilac from the bouquet she’s arranging and walks closer to me.