“Mother.”
The queen stood near one of the bed posts, her nightgown blending with the silken curtains hanging down from Aiyana’s bed. Her face was creased with worry, still slack from the sleep she’d no doubt been roused from. Brown eyes looked almost black in the shadows of the bedroom, but Aiyana imagined she could still see the disappointment there.
“Chayton was worried about you.” Her mother stepped around the bed, not approaching Aiyana, but standing in her full view now. “He says you seemed…unnerved.”
“You mean I scared him.” Aiyana didn’t bother to hide her disgust, her anger. “I frightened the guard who’s supposed to be protecting our people from me.”
“Aiyana, that’s not funny.”
Her mother took another step forward, letting the moonlight shining in the window bathe her face. The pain in her eyes stabbed at Aiyana and she looked away, crossing her arms as if she could protect herself from her mother’s worry.
“The guards are there to protect you. You are the princess, you are--”
“They are here to keep my secret.” Aiyana’s voice was soft as she interrupted her mother. She didn’t want to upset her, but nor did she want to continue pretending. The time for pretending was over the night she’d woken from a particularly terrifying nightmare to discover she’d shredded her bed, her wicked pearlescent claws still covered in bits of silk and cotton. All pretense had died when her mother had found her like that, when Aiyana had looked into her mother’s face and seen not surprise, but resignation.
“The Black God put his influence inside of you, Aiyana, but you were only a baby. It was not your fault and there’s no reason the people should be made aware of just how much influence the Black God’s blessing has been.”
The queen sat on the bed, patting the spot next to her. Aiyana ignored the invitation. She wasn’t in the mood to be coddled during this conversation. It hurt to look at her mother, so she turned her attention out the window.
“The dreams are getting worse.” She said it quietly, as if speaking the words too loudly would give them power somehow, make the nightmares a reality. She let them hang in the air, part of her praying her mother would speak up, would give her the meaningless reassurances that mothers were supposed to give their children.
“Aiyana, you must keep fighting. No one can know about your dreams, no one can know about the horrible urges the Black God planted inside you. Fight it, keep it locked away. Blood and death lie down that path. You must choose life for you and your people.”
Okomi’s voice rose to join her mother’s. “There is a powerful fairy that lives at the lake not far from Your Highness’ castle. She is a powerful creature of nature, and she has the power to cut the darkness from a human, to help that human’s energies to grow in more positive, beautiful ways, exactly as she would for a plant.”
Aiyana blinked and stared out over the land. Off in the distance, she could make out the great walls that surrounded the expansive castle grounds, protecting the villagers from the dangers that lurked in the thick forests beyond.
That’s where the fairy would be.
The treacherous voice hummed in Aiyana’s ear and she peered harder at the trees as if she would suddenly see through them to whatever magical creature lived there beside the lake Okomi had spoken of. What would the fairy be like? Surely there were good fairies. The balam were good, perhaps the fairy Okomi had spoken of was one of them?
“I will always choose life for my people.” Aiyana met her mother’s eyes, forcing a smile to her face. “Thank you, Mother. I think I’ll go to sleep now.”
A line appeared between her mother’s brows and on either side of her mouth. “Aiyana, you must not sneak out anymore.” She gestured toward the secret passage. “I’ll have that sealed if I have to. You cannot take any chances.”
You can’t take any chances that you’ll hurt our people, let out our dark secret, Aiyana finished for her in her mind. Her smile grew brittle, but she held onto it anyway. “Yes, Mother.”
The queen stood, clasping her hands in front of her. “Aiyana, I love you. More than you could ever know. I wish I had been able to protect you from this.”
Tears sprang out of nowhere, burning behind Aiyana’s eyes. She blinked to keep them away. “I know. I love you too.”
Aiyana waited until the door closed behind her mother, then she rushed across the room to bolt it closed.
“I am hungry. Feed me, Aiyana. Flesh and blood.”
The voice, the same ancient, grating voice, spoke to her. It seemed to come from inside her head, a presence she couldn’t escape. Her mother was right, she was a threat. She had to do whatever she could to help her people, to choose life for her kingdom. There was only one thing to do.
Mind made up, Aiyana whirled around and raced for the heavy carved wooden trunk that rested at the foot of her bed. She fumbled the latches open and flung the lid back. She pulled out a simple leather bag, beautifully embroidered with colored beads. With shaking hands, she packed a few essentials and then returned to the secret passage still standing open.
Better to face a fairy than live with the monster in the mirror.
Chapter Two
“Gentlemen, welcome to the Kingdom of Mu.”
Saamal raised his arms, gesturing at the land around him. It was a mockery of pride, the gesture rendered ridiculous by the dead sand-colored grass and the ominous ashen sky. The castle in front of them was nearly swallowed up by monstrous briar brushes, branches thicker than a human being reaching up like the tentacles of some great sea monster to wrap around the stone walls, curling around even the tallest towers until it looked like the entire structure was being swallowed by a spiny wooden kraken. Dust wafted into the air with every breeze, the wind carrying the sickly sweet scent of decay and dead plants.
As it always did, the sight of his own land twisted Saamal’s heart in his chest, a vicious tugging that only came from guilt. He had allowed his land to waste away—his choices had brought it to this. Maybe if he had stayed even after he gave up so much of his power, maybe if he hadn’t spent so much time searching for temporary power, for a way to protect himself from his enemies, perhaps… He put a hand to his heart, pressing against the rough fabric of his tunic in a vain attempt to ease the pressure.
“It’s a very large kingdom.” Adonis’s voice held that light edge of attempted comfort, but it was overwhelmed by the acknowledgment that the situation was beyond a silver lining. The demon ran a hand through his mop of brown hair, eyes flickering over the overgrown brush trying to consume the castle. “I—”
“What have you done to it?” Etienne shifted on his feet, eyes flickering from brown to gold as if even the beast inside him were uncomfortable standing in the dead kingdom. A wrinkle of disgust teased his nose and a severe line between his eyes condemned Saamal for allowing such a fate to befall his kingdom.
Saamal tensed, but offered no defense. What defense was there to offer? The evidence of his failure was all around them.
“Etienne, a little tact? Honestly, and you were raised as a prince.”
“Yes, I was, Adonis, and that’s why I know that it’s the responsibility of the king to see that his land is protected, nurtured.” Anger warmed Etienne’s voice as he faced Saamal. “This—”
“Exactly, it’s the king’s job.” Adonis put himself between Etienne and Saamal. Even without his horns and wings, the demon was a few inches taller than Etienne, and he drew himself up to his full height as he stared hard at the werewolf. “Saamal is the prince, not the king, Etienne.”
It had been a long time since Saamal had even considered explaining himself to anyone, had even needed to explain the way his kingdom worked. He could hardly fault Adonis for not knowing. After all, he did not come from a kingdom that had been created with flesh and blood. He did not know how closely Saamal was tied to this land.
“Adonis, your defense is appreciated, but unfortunately undeserved.” Saamal pivoted slowly in a semi circle, f
orcing himself to face his once thriving land, to see the ruin that had come to it, feel it. The dull ache in the back of his head that never went away, grew in intensity. “I am the prince of this land by virtue of betrothal to the king’s daughter.” He lowered his voice. “By blood, I am the king.”
“You’re what?” Etienne and Adonis spoke in unison.
Saamal smiled, though the sentiment did not reflect his heart. “I am the supreme ruler of this kingdom, tied to the land by flesh, blood, and magic. I created this world. Every king who wishes to rule, shares his blood with me, and I with him. At the coronation ritual, the king spills his blood onto the land as an offering, a binding. He ties himself to the land that he claims rulership over so that he may prosper only as the land prospers, and he will suffer as the land suffers. It is our agreement, our bond, that allows the land to thrive.”
Both Etienne and Adonis glanced around as they listened to the last part, and a bitter laugh escaped Saamal. “What you see around you is a result of my own foolishness. After I gave the balam half my power to curb the curse laid on my future bride, it put my Aiyana into a deep sleep that we did not know when she would wake from. The balam worried that Aiyana would be distressed to wake with no one she knew around her, whether because those she’d known had aged to a point she did not recognize them, or because they had died and been replaced. I was foolish, led by the balam into thinking of the individual instead of the whole for the first time in my existence. I allowed her to put the rest of the castle to sleep, so that they might wake at the same time Aiyana wakes.”
“The king,” Etienne guessed.
Saamal nodded grimly. “As the king went to sleep, his vitality stopped feeding the land. Since the holy men were part of the castle’s population as well, there was also no one left to oversee the sacrifices. Without the sustenance it was the king’s duty to provide, the earth suffered until it is as you see it now.” He looked across the land, unable to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Barren.”
“Did you say…sacrifice?” Adonis’ eyes bored into Saamal’s, a strange emotion flickering in the brief sparks of cinnamon in the hazel depths. “What kind of sacrifice?”
Saamal met the demon’s eyes without flinching. “There is much you do not know about my kingdom. Do not judge when you do not understand.”
There was a strained silence, emphasized rather than broken by the wind through the brittle briars. Saamal could feel the weight of Etienne’s scrutiny on him as well, but he didn’t take his eyes from Adonis. This was it. This was the time he would find out if he could believe Eurydice, if he could believe that he was no longer alone in his quest to wake Aiyana from her sleep and save his kingdom.
“There was a time the people thought sacrificing a virgin was a good way to curry favor with an incubus.”
Saamal paused. It took him a moment to shift his thoughts and follow Adonis’ new line of conversation. “Indeed?”
Adonis rolled his eyes. “Ridiculous, right? Why on earth would an incubus be pleased to see a perfectly good virgin—”
“Get to the point, Adonis.” Etienne crossed his arms.
“We can talk about sacrifice later,” Adonis finished. “But we will talk about it later?”
“Is it your intention to tell me how to run my kingdom, Adonis?” Saamal kept his voice calm. The demon knew nothing about this kingdom, nothing about what it took, what it had taken… There’d been a time he would have killed Adonis for questioning him. Fortunately for the demon, a century of forced humility had taught Saamal restraint.
“You know me better than to think I want to tell you how to run your kingdom.” Adonis’ face hardened. “But if you’re talking about human sacrifice…” He stopped, pursed his lips. “Some things are not acceptable. If Kirill is right, and whatever Eurydice has planned is going to keep us in each other’s lives, then I need to know what sort of person you are before we go on.” He glanced at the castle for a long moment. “I’m willing to put the conversation off until we can make sure Aiyana is safe. But after that…”
The image of Aiyana lying in her bed, still as death even after a century, moved Saamal to incline his head, his eyes still locked on Adonis’. “We will talk later.”
Etienne furrowed his eyebrows. “If a sacrifice is needed to keep the land healthy, and the king is no longer able to lead the sacrifice, then why don’t you perform them yourself?”
Saamal stiffened, then reminded himself that though Etienne was perhaps a little more familiar with the flesh and blood aspect of existence, he was painfully unfamiliar with the divine. “A sacrifice is offered to gods, not by gods. If gods were to sacrifice to themselves, the sacrifice would have no meaning, no power. It would be murder, not sacrifice.”
Adonis opened his mouth, then closed it as if thinking better of what he’d been about to say. Etienne remained silent, appearing to be mulling over Saamal’s words. Saamal took advantage of the silence. He left his companions to their thoughts as he closed his eyes and opened his senses, listening without his ears to the wheeze of the wind. Though the air no longer answered to him as it once did, he could still hear its voice, gather information from its swells. The breeze ran invisible fingers through his hair, swirled around his head, breathing words into his ears in a language that had him aching for a simpler time. He clenched his teeth, forcing his mind to the present. There was nothing new to learn, nothing that had happened in his absence. Everything was silent.
A sudden growl from behind him prompted Saamal to open his eyes. He found Etienne staring off into the beginning of the maze of briars that surrounded the palace. His eyes had bled to the golden amber of his wolf and the sound trickling out of his throat had the hair on the back of Saamal’s neck standing up. The werewolf hunched over, the muscles of his arms and back swelling, stopping short of growing fur and moving him from human to half beast. He took a step in the direction of the brush and bared glistening canines at the darkness.
Adonis crouched slightly, rising onto the balls of his feet and scanning the environment with eyes that had bled to hellish crimson though he remained solidly in human form. “What is it?”
“Predator.” Etienne’s voice was thick, a low, gravelly sound that was more animal than human.
Familiar spirits danced in Saamal’s awareness, so familiar they were more an extension of his own consciousness. He held up a placating hand to his companions. “There are jaguars that live in the briars. They are guardians, loyal to me even in my reduced state. They will not harm you and I must ask you not to harm them.”
Etienne’s skin shivered and he narrowed his eyes to amber slits. He took a step back, but his gaze didn’t waver and his stance remained alert, aggressive.
“Why don’t we move inside?” Adonis armed himself with his usual easy smile and headed in the direction of the front door, his stride approaching his signature swagger. He waved a hand in the air and a cigarette appeared between his fingertips. The faint scent of cloves trickled into the air as he rolled the vice between his fingertips a few times, then blew on the end. The tip burst into bright tangerine flame. A cloud of smoke enveloped him as he sucked in a chestful of smoke and exhaled through his nostrils, eyes glowing a bright cherry red and giving him a draconic appearance amidst the smoke. “Shall we?”
Saamal obligingly led them into the mess of briars. Wood groaned around him, sharp thorns cracking as the enchanted woods pulled aside to allow him through. “The balam coaxed the briars to grow as a sort of protection spell to guard the sleeping palace. I don’t fully understand the enchantment, but I have yet to have a problem with them.”
“An enchanting welcome.”
Etienne groaned at Adonis’ quip and Saamal shook his head. His companions stayed close, following in his wake, and for a moment, Saamal reflected on how strange it was to not be alone as he travelled this path. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation.
“What is your castle built from?” Etienne ran a hand over the baluster leading up to
the front door, brow furrowed as he stared at the smooth carved surface.
“Looks like brimstone.” Adonis leaned back, peering up at the towers rising like spearheads into the sky. “The skyline of the whole place looks like it’d be more at home in some monster’s mouth. I’ve never seen towers come to quite that fine a point.”
“The stone looks like it’s actually drinking the light.” Etienne glanced over his shoulder at Saamal. “Is it brimstone?”
Saamal lifted a shoulder in a tired shrug. “I don’t believe the castle was originally constructed from brimstone. It is more likely that the drain on my land has drawn the life from the stone, reduced it to a darker state.”
Etienne narrowed his eyes. “Stone isn’t alive.”
Beautiful Salvation Page 4