Faces of Betrayal

by Daniele Cella

  “I am nothing compared to you,” he said in a supplicating tone.

  “Indeed,” she replied.

  Their lips crashed together in a heated kiss. Lost in the silent spell she wove with her lips, he moaned. She shoved him back against the headboard with a thud, sliding down his thick naked body. With a mighty growl, she grabbed his hips and thrust herself upon him. He let out a strangled cry, digging his fingers into the rough rope.

  “Yuna!”

  Thrusting mightily, she impaled herself again and again. He thrashed. His cheeks flushed, sweaty against the sheets.

  “No, you fool,” she hissed. “I will have my own first!”

  With escalating cries, Yuna threw her head back and screamed, digging her hands into the hard flesh of his chest. With one last, deep thrust, he groaned her name, shuddering. His body slowed.

  Yuna calmed, resting her hips against him. She lifted a lazy eyebrow, lowering her torso until her breasts pressed against his chest. She folded her hands, resting her chin on top of them.

  “And how does Kenzo, the ruler of the Ameya Clan, enjoy waking with such ferocity? Surely your subjects should never know how naughty you can be,” she drawled.

  He lifted a trembling hand. “My dear,” he murmured, “you are exquisite in every way. I will never share you with them.”

  She grinned and rolled off of him. The rush of cool air coming from the open window made goosebumps rise from her flushed skin.

  Kenzo sighed, pushing himself into a seated position while Yuna strolled to the edge of the bed where the early morning light accentuated the graceful curves of her naked body.

  Feeling his gaze lingering on her back, she paused for a moment, as if deciding what clothes to don first, then pretended to abandon the idea and strolled to a porcelain pitcher near the window which was ajar. The morning air filtered across her skin, cooling her as it stirred her bright red tresses.

  Kenzo pushed the remaining blankets away. The rest had already fallen to the floor due to Yuna’s . . . free-spirited . . . ideas.

  Seconds later he appeared behind her, still hot from his exertion.

  “A beautiful morning,” he murmured in her ear, running the tips of his fingers through her long red hair.

  “Indeed. Your palace has an interesting view of the sunrise this time of year.”

  “The sun shines all the time when you are here, Yuna,” he said in a soft and adoring tone.

  She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, then pulled away, her gaze lingering on the sight below his expansive villa within the palace.

  Several stories beneath them, an open courtyard filled the ground. Men scrambled around in small formations of three and four. Yuna’s eyes narrowed as, on a call from the leader standing on a nearby wall, the formations changed. Merging, they coalesced into one great mass. Framed by the borders of the soldiers below, the strange group created a very familiar shape. On one last command from their leader, they all lifted their shields above their heads.

  Yuna’s lips lifted in a smirk.

  “Ah,” she murmured. “The famous Ameyan turtle formation at work, I see. You continue to believe in such a strategy?”

  “It holds strong.”

  “Strong, yes, but it’s believed that turtles have never been punctual. Strength means nothing if you cannot be on time. That’s a poor report to take to my father, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Kenzo’s shoulders lifted as he drew in a deep breath. “Of course. Yet one should not suppose that because legend states a fact it must be so. Turtles have always been known for their legendary wisdom. Some turtles,” he said, glancing at her affectionately, “are always on time. Reassure your father of that.”

  His arms came around her bare body, jerking her up against him. Yuna twined her arms around his shoulders, raking her fingers through his hair with a sharp tug. He grabbed her chin with his teeth.

  “Ah,” she hissed. “The ruler is back for a little more subjugation, is he?”

  He dropped his lips to her earlobe, tightening his grip on her body to the point of pain. Just when she bit into the soft flesh of his neck, a sound rang into the room from the door. Yuna jerked away.

  “Allow me,” he said, drawing his hand across her neck in a last caress.

  On his way to the door, he strode past the bed, grabbing up a blanket on his way. He wrapped it around his waist, tying it in a crude knot.

  Yuna rushed into her gown, throwing a cloak on top and pulling it shut. Just as the door open, she yanked her hood over her face, retreating deep into the folds.

  “Ah!” Kenzo’s voice rang out. “My son, Nobu. Come in, come in. You are always welcome.”

  A blonde-haired man with striking green eyes stepped into the room, his gaze instantly narrowing on Yuna. He didn’t seem all that surprised to see someone standing there.

  The skin on the back of Yuna’s neck prickled, but she forced herself to remain calm.

  “Forgive me,” Nobu said, not taking his eyes from her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt any… morning routines.”

  “Nothing we can’t reschedule later.” Kenzo sent Yuna a discreet glance. “Until next time, of course.”

  Yuna didn’t need this permission to depart; she had already started toward the only escape in the expansive room. Just as she slipped toward the door, Nobu’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. Yuna jerked free and thrust the heel of her other hand into his jaw near his ear. Then, grabbing his wrist, she forced him to his knees.

  Nobu grunted, nostrils flared, but he made no outcry.

  “Touch me again,” she whispered, “and you won’t hear my warning.”

  With a shove, she released him and drew her hand back under the cloak. He caught his balance and stood, eyeing her.

  Kenzo, standing behind his son, burst into a deep, rolling laugh. He tilted his head back. “Oh, Nobu! Really. You know better than to grab a fair woman when she’s not invited you to do so.”

  The back of Nobu’s neck flushed bright red. He gritted his teeth, speaking through them. “I see that, Father.”

  Yuna stepped into the hall, drawing the door closed behind her. She paused, cocked her ear toward the door, and waited.

  “Forgive my intrusion, Father,” Nobu muttered, his voice muffled by the barrier of the door. “But your precious cargo has arrived.”

  Yuna waited a moment more, then slipped away and made sure.

  Soon enough she ensured her figure faded into the quiet bustle of life at the glittering palace.

  The scent of fish and rotting seaweed drew Yuna out of the palace and into the streets of Gulan. Her feet pattered over the cobblestone streets, still damp from a late-night rain. Several carts rolled down the road, attended by sleepy salesmen who would peddle their food wares as soon as the majority of the residents of the city awoke.

  Yuna stepped into an alley and became a part of the shadows. Children squawked from the windows above her, and lines of laundry fluttered overhead as she moved down the maze of alleys, through the refuse of the city, and toward the sea.

  Ameya Palace was far off in the distance behind Yuna when she stopped a few paces away from the biggest of Gulan’s two harbors. Here, a road followed the jagged coastline, meandering like a brook. Thick, knotted ropes along the road’s far side looped from post to post to block any traffic from falling into the ocean. Boats littered the water, bobbing up and down on a calm, glassy sea.

  Yuna breathed through her mouth; the scent of rotting fish guts permeated the air here. She grimaced, catching a fishy taste on her tongue as she walked along the harbor road. Weary fisherman who had just docked their boats after a long night on the ocean straggled past her. No one asked her who she was or if she needed any help finding her way. No one paid attention to her.

  Gulls swooped overhead as she surveyed the boats. Too small. Too big. Too narrow. Too empty.

  She noticed a gaggle of children get tangled in the ropes that strung through posts, dividing the road from docks. They freed themselve
s and scurried around a small fishing ship.

  One little boy climbed to the top of the boat and held a wooden sword high above his head. “I am the fearless pirate Beltran! I will conquer every sea.”

  She continued on, ignoring the boy. Her gaze drifted well beyond the depths of her hood, moving quickly from ship to ship.

  She hadn’t misheard. She knew she hadn’t.

  Her eyes stopped on a boat with a familiar octopus symbol painted in white on the hull. It was a subtle, quiet design most likely overlooked by most. Two sailors worked on the ship’s sail, which must have taken a beating during some storm for it clearly needed repairs. A neat square of boxes piled high in the middle of the boat’s foreword deck caught Yuna’s eye. She smiled.

  Just as she desired.

  A man near the dock of the boat stepped blithely up the stairs, and locked his eyes. Yuna tensed, then calmed.

  The man wore a violet robe that flapped around his sides. It also revealed a bare chest and strong shoulders. He stopped just out of reach of her arms. An astute decision.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you, Nishu Yuna.” He bowed his head.

  “The agreements have been met?”

  “Indeed. We always seek to fulfill our side of a bargain.”

  “Very wise of you.”

  Yuna reached into a hidden pocket inside her cloak and pulled out a small scroll the size of her palm. It was sealed with a dollop of colorless wax, and had a nine-tails fox imprinted upon it.

  Behind the man, sailors unloaded the boxes onto the dock with careful movements, setting them delicately on top of one another. Yuna’s gaze flickered to them, then back to the violet-clad man.

  “This is for your master.”

  He accepted the scroll. “A pleasure, Nishu Yuna.”

  Hadjia

  Hadjia stared at the giggling children in confusion. There were five children, skipping in a circle, chasing each other.

  The quiet forest created a verdant and lush backdrop for them as they played, twisting vines and gnarled roots beneath their little feet. A slight fog filled the air, glimmering every now and then with miniature lights. Everything sounded distant to Hadjia, as if heard through glass.

  One of them broke away and gazed at Hadjia with wide eyes. Hadjia recoiled. The little girl approached, one hand held out. “Come, Hadjia. Play with us!” Her voice chimed, as if in a dream.

  Hadjia found herself following the little girl, stumbling as she tried walking next to her, with uncertain steps, even though Hadjia was never uncertain.

  The sound of their playing echoed in her ears.

  Such a strange, careless sound.

  “Ring around the rosy!” they chanted, joining hands. Their small bodies and childish voices rose louder with the next verse. “The world of ours will fall!”

  Inside their circle stood a little girl dressed in white, the hem of her dress falling to her knees. A blindfold crossed her face.

  The girl who had pulled Hadjia closer released her hand and darted over, joining the other children as they raced in a circle now, increasing the words with their steps.

  “Ring-a-ring of roses. The world of ours will fall. War. War. We fall to the ground and . . .”

  “Die!”

  All the children stopped as the little girl in the middle pointed with her left hand to a boy with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He instantly tumbled to the ground. After a pause where Hadjia heard nothing, the boy clambered back to his feet. The eyes of the other children followed him.

  “No!” Hadjia said. “You are dead. You cannot rise!”

  The boy turned to her with a piercing gaze. “It is not me who will die,” he called, puffing out his chest. “It’s you! All of you!”

  He reached out his hands and the other children accepted them again. They continued with the song as if the boy had never been chosen. Their words seemed to echo even louder, expanding in the strange, foggy silence of the thick forest.

  “Ring around the rosy . . .”

  Hadjia’s breath caught. The little girl in the center of the circle now wore a blood-red dress. The blindfold still covered her eyes. Crimson lines dripped down the front, staining it slowly. The blood dripped to the ground. Something cool slid across Hadjia’s palm. When she glanced down, a sticky, smooth liquid crept across them. Blood.

  “Ring around a rosy. The world of ours will fall. War! War!”

  Hadjia backed away. She scrubbed her hands on her clothes, but the blood didn’t leave. Her breathing turned frantic. The little girl in the blood-red dress turned, her blindfold gone. Her eyes bored into Hadjia’s and her arm started to raise.

  Just as the girl’s lips parted, a voice shouted, “What is that? Hadjia? Do you see what I am seeing?”

  Hadjia jerked awake.

  A swath of forest, with deep emerald green leaves and thick branches towering overhead, was surrounding her. The air felt thick, heavy with a floral scent. She blinked, pulling herself out of a stupor, and gazed around.

  Hadjia straightened, clearing the last remnants of sleep from her mind.

  The time had come for Renji’s Mukatan already.

  Renji was crouched next to Hadjia and peering around the trunk of a sprawling tree. His fine brown hair was saturated with moisture, and his skinny limbs muscular, even for a fourteen-year-old.

  On the other side of Renji was Kaneko. She was staring out into the trees, her forehead puckered into deep lines.

  “It’s real!” Renji hissed. “It’s a woman.”

  “It’s not real,” Kaneko said.

  “We can’t both be imagining it!” Kaneko said.

  Their quarreling pulled Hadjia to her knees. She peered out into the forest. A glowing light emanated from deep in the forest not far away, the sight of it interrupted only by tree trunks and bushes. The strange light burned a bright white, turning to blue on the edges. Details of a human form appeared around the light.

  “It’s a woman,” Hadjia whispered. “See? Look at her hair.”

  Strands of long black hair, dark as pitch, tumbled onto the woman’s shoulders in wild disarray. She moved slowly, so slowly it seemed she had to stop and rest in between every step. Her toes dragged in the dirt, leaving soft trails behind her. Although her mouth hung open, she uttered no sound.

  Hadjia heard nothing. The light shifted, dimming slightly. The woman came into greater focus.

  Her eyes—they were so empty.

  Hadjia retreated, slipping behind the cover of a tree. Kaneko and Renji followed.

  “What is it?” Renji hissed. “Why is it here?”

  Kaneko swallowed, meeting Hadjia’s concerned gaze. “It’s . . .”

  All three of them peered around the tree again. The woman had her back to them as she shuffled the opposite way. Her hair swayed around her shoulders, swinging like the folds of her white gown. Behind her, the orb followed, blindingly bright. They retreated again.

  “It’s ignoring us, at least,” Kaneko said with a shrug. “But, maybe . . . Maybe it’s a Baja.”

  “Baja?” Renji whispered.

  “Do you remember the story that Mother told us? The one about restless spirits that wander?” Kaneko asked.

  Renji shook his head. Hadjia’s eyes widened.

  “Mother said they looked just like that woman. With a light trailing them. Making no sound. Dragging themselves around as if they’re too heavy to bear the weight of their own existence. A Baja. It must be!” Kaneko conjectured.

  Renji’s nostrils flared slightly, and his eyes narrowed to slashes. “What does it mean? There’s something you’re not telling me!”

  Hadjia pressed her lips together. “Bajas are bad omens,” she murmured.

  “Imminent misfortune sometimes follows,” Kaneko said, brushing her comment off.

  Always follows, Hadjia wanted to say. But one look from Kaneko sealed her silence, and she bit back her retort.

  Hadjia leaned to the side, peering around the tree. The figure had vanished, taking the
light with it. There was nothing but the eerie silence of the forest.

  “I’m doomed!” Renji suddenly wailed. “I will not succeed.”

  “Hush. Your fate isn’t determined by a Baja,” Kaneko said. “You decide it yourself. You know what to do. Focus. Focus on what needs to be done.”

  Renji closed his eyes. “Fulfill the Mukatan.”

  “Yes. Make the Mother proud.”

  Hadjia reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can do it, Renji.”

  Kaneko peered around the other side of the tree, then retreated, eyes wide. “He’s here! He just stepped outside,” Kaneko hissed, so quietly Hadjia almost couldn’t hear it. Renji and Hadjia leaned in closer. All the color left Renji’s face.

  “You know what to do, Renji,” Kaneko said, retreating fully behind the tree. She unsheathed her knife. It was a simple, double-edged thing with folded steel and a spiral handle for a better grip. Renji nodded, his face all rigid lines and flaring nostrils.

  “The Mother will be exceedingly pleased with your work once this house is taken care of,” Kaneko continued. “Remember — leave as little trace as possible. You’ve been trained and passed on the goats. It’s no different here. Humans are the same as animals.”

  “Animals,” he murmured. After this utterance, Renji glanced to Hadjia.

  She felt a little curl of pleasure. Although younger than Kaneko, she’d killed more than anyone in the Red Moon School. If Renji should look to anyone, it was her. She nodded once.

  “We can’t help you, Renji,” she said. “You must do this on your own.”

  “I don’t expect it.”

  “One stroke. Here.” Hadjia pointed to her neck, withdrew her own knife, and had it in her palm almost before he’d registered what happened. “Turn the point of the blade down. The blood will fill their chest faster. Cut from the side for them to bleed faster. Down the front to stop them from screaming.”