Amelia knotted her fists. Rage blazed through her, shards of fire and ice slicing deep into her consciousness. If it had not been for the curse, Amelia realized she would have killed Vorec right then.
Kepsalon's hand stopped her before she moved closer. "Watch yourself, elder commander." The words ground out of her as she glared at Vorec, fracturing her calm even more. The fury welling within her was so powerful it made her shake. "Whether you like me or not is irrelevant. And I will not tolerate this behavior from you."
Vorec laughed. "Or what? You'll unleash your mate and lovers?" He leaned forward, smirking. "I must confess, it would make things simpler. At least then the king would know the truth. And the poor queen. It is hard enough for them already. How much more so when they realize that the child whom they adopted and gave every advantage is a traitor."
"Elder commander, your bitterness and pain have made your words foolish, just as fear and cultural respect have made your two newest elder commanders cowards," Kepsalon said.
Amelia clenched her fists tighter, her fingernails cutting deep into her palms. "I am disappointed in your conduct. All of you. I thought better of the Ayamin and of Libysha." She turned immediately, not daring to stay in the room with Vorec one minute more.
Kepsalon followed behind her. "All things considered, that went well."
"I need to be alone now, or I am going to hurt someone," Amelia said tightly as she stalked down the hall. She crushed her bloodied hands to her face, choking down the screams of rage. "I thought I hated Naatos, but it is nothing compared to what I feel now."
"Careful, Amelia." Kepsalon quickened his pace to match hers, then glanced about as if to ensure no one was near them. "Your mind is not in a good place."
"No part of me is in a good place right now." Amelia struck her hands against her dress, smearing blood over her clothing.
"Kepsalon!" a frightened female voice sounded from the second door to the left.
Kepsalon stopped short. "We will continue this conversation later, Amelia. But do not lose hope."
Amelia kept walking, her footsteps echoing throughout the hall. No one else was present now. But even alone, her thoughts and rage thundered in her ears, threatening to plunge her off the edge of a great chasm.
Suddenly she realized that there was another set of footsteps beating down the hall. She stopped, the anger still boiling within her.
"I did not give you permission to leave," Vorec barked.
Amelia turned on her heel. "Unless you are here to apologize and take back what you said, I am not interested in talking with you further. Leave."
"You have no authority here." Vorec stopped a few feet in front of her. "And you can't run from what is true. You are not one of us. You never have been, and you never will be. I have given you the path to that kinship and you have refused it. The reason is clear, you skinchanger's whore."
What little control Amelia had left trembled within her, and she balled up her fists. "Vorec, go."
"We are not done talking, you little pinchat. If you think that I'm going to let you—"
Amelia turned to walk away.
"Get back here!" Vorec seized her by the arm and cuffed the side of her head. "You are a traitor in hiding, and you will pay for everything you and those creatures have wreaked against my nation and my people."
Amelia twisted free. "Vorec, stop!"
"I should have broken your neck when I learned you were a blood child. All of the grief I could have saved, all of the pain." Vorec straightened his shoulders. "You are a misery, and that is all that you bring into the lives of others. Do you hear me, you little zethkik!"
The cold bead in Amelia's mind exploded within her, filling her veins with ice and clarity. His words slowed in her ears. She stepped to the side, seized a chair, spun, and cracked it over Vorec's head.
Vorec crashed backward, landing flat on his back, stunned.
Amelia cast the chair aside, leaped astride him, and punched him over and over. Each blow resounded in her mind, but there was no pain for her. Nothing but satisfaction and vengeance. Vorec brought his arms up and thrust her back.
Everything blurred within Amelia's mind, but she drove the base of her palm into his nose. Hot sticky blood covered her hands. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she could kill him.
It wouldn't be hard.
But then she would die too.
The cold choked out any feelings attached to that thought except the knowledge that she had to survive. When he tried to throw her off again, she drove her elbow against his forehead.
She seized him by the hair, unsheathed her dagger, and pressed the blade against his throat. "You will not hit me or speak to me like that ever again. All right? Or I will take you to the edge of death and drag you back by your teeth." She slammed his head back. He struck the stone floor with a dull wet thwump.
Amelia stood. Shreds of skin clung to her torn knuckles, weeping blood and sending sparks of pain into her mind. But it was mostly Vorec's blood that spattered her pale-yellow bodice and streaked her sleeves. She kept her head high as she strode away, leaving Vorec on his own, his face a bloodied moaning mess.
5
Wolves and Chairs
Amelia continued to the menagerie, choosing the halls and paths that fewer people frequented. The last thing she wanted was someone confronting her about her hideous state, but she did not want to return to the family quarters either. She just wanted to fix things.
The large double staircase curved up into the tower, and she vaguely remembered this from WroOth's memory. Dull blood marks stained the rough-cut stones, becoming more frequent as she neared the forty-ninth stair. Rage still burned within her, but the cold was receding.
Roars and snarls reached her from the open doors at the top of the staircase. The creatures were angry. Not that she blamed them. They mirrored her own emotions.
She strode into the high-ceilinged room. It was larger than she expected, even from WroOth's memories. Rows upon rows of cages lined the walls. Most were empty, with nothing other than multiple doors that allowed the creatures to access larger chambers.
All of these creatures had once been other animals. But now here they were, transformed into beings of folklore and myth. The tang of blood filled Amelia's nostrils and mouth. Slowly she paced the room.
All of the current beasts had been herded up and closed into the smaller cages. A few wolves with saber teeth and glowing blue eyes pawed at the doors, slavering like beasts possessed. A large golden serpent with scorpion legs and a stinger arched backward and clabbered at the walls. Two crudons roared and bellowed from their cells. Chunks of raw meat and bone littered the floor of their cages. A twin-headed guara with its salamander-like body and blunt but crooked legs hissed at her, its frills extending.
The wolves lunged at the bars. Yellow teeth snapped, one striking a chipped bar. A slimmer slope-backed wolf prowled along the top of the rock formation, its glowing eyes fixed on her.
Amelia eyed them, her breaths slowing. They reminded her of Claudius when he broke. A stab of pain spread through her, beating back the cold even faster. What was to be done with these creatures? Was death truly the only fate for them?
The menagerie had large bins and numerous shelves including a large slab desk. On the nearest wall hung a series of faded yellow diagrams and maps with brown crinkled edges. Another door was set deep within the wall next to the desk. Farther along to the right side of the desk were several levers marked with pictographs. At least most of those signs were clear enough for her to understand, though a few mystified her.
The largest wolf lunged at the bars again, snarling and howling all the more. He was even louder than the crudon and the guara combined.
Amelia drew closer, keeping her steps slow and her pace even. "Be still." She crouched in front of the cage and stared him in the eye. "I know you didn't want this. You didn't ask for this. None of you did. I've seen your kind before. I'm sorry."
The slope-backed
wolf on the rocks flung its head back and howled.
The scorpion serpent arched up. It thrust its large snout against the bars. Thick indentations indicated bruising from constant attacks against its cell.
All of the beasts were agitated, and how could she blame them? They had been trapped in the smallest portions of the cage. At the back of each one was another door that could be opened with the pulling of a lever. From the bloody stains and half-consumed meat, Amelia guessed that Lon and the other Ayamin had lured the animals into the smaller holding pens to make them easier to deal with.
Amelia examined each of the animals as best she could from a safe distance. All in all, they appeared healthy. Any sign of their transformation had vanished, and it was as if they had always been these creatures.
She stopped in front of the smallest crudon. There was a small blue mark on the side of her neck, similar to the fur dyes used on the more docile she-bruins. Amelia drew a little closer and held out her hand, keeping it out of biting range. "Do you remember me?"
The bruin growled, her eyelids lowering. Then, abruptly, she lunged at the bars. Spittle flew through the air.
Amelia jumped back.
More chaos reigned as the other beasts added their harrowing voices to the chorus.
Rubbing her arm, Amelia sighed. It didn't surprise her. There was nothing left of the former creature. Or at least if there was, it wasn't apparent. But did that make them guilty? Guilty enough for execution? She hugged herself.
One by one, the roars and bellows quieted until all that remained was quiet clacking claws on stone and heavy breathing. They all watched her, their eyes bright and sharp.
"Now that the Tue-Rah is open, or at least can be opened, there has to be some place for you," Amelia said softly. "And if there is some place I can send you, I will do so." She crossed back to the desk and leaned up to examine the diagrams. As she had guessed, the levers opened the inner doors, allowing the creatures access to larger roofed spaces and tracks. She opened them one at a time. The crudons lumbered out slowly while the scorpion serpent ran up along the wall and onto the ceiling. The two-headed guara did the same.
The wolves yipped. Three ran into the newly opened passage but the largest remained. He kept his blue eyes fixed on her, motionless.
Amelia met his gaze. "Please don't give them reason to hurt you."
The wolf ducked his head, turned, and ran.
Amelia continued to explore the menagerie. The side door beside the desk revealed a large chamber with bins and air surprisingly cool air. Peering onto the shelves, Amelia discovered large blue globules like the kind AaQar had fastened to her tablet. These were attached to small discs that frosted her hand when she put it over them. Probably some sort of tech from Ecekom. At least feeding the animals wasn't going to be a problem. There was a significant quantity of fresh meat as well as some strange dried mix and large glass jars full of crushed herbs and plants. The menagerie was far better stocked than she could have hoped.
It took another two hours or so to finish providing food and water, as well as clean the smaller cages. Later she wanted to check the bedding situation. But it was probably time she returned to check on Naatos and his brothers.
Vorec was likely to respect her authority in only the most minimal manner possible. And given what she had done, he might try again to remove her. She could not recall what Libyshan law said regarding a royal beating in the face of a commander. But surely there was some leniency there. In fact, she was certain there had to be. She'd heard something about it in passing a few times. Hadn't King Theol's brother done something horrid like that? He'd barely been reprimanded—if the story was true. While her reputation and good will among the Ayamin was sure to suffer, not all could be lost.
Yes. She would not be defeated because she would not give up. And that was something.
She washed her hands in the stone basin. Folded beside it was a turquoise gown Naatos had given her. A piece had been cut out. What had he been doing?
Sighing, she flicked the water from her hands. Only now did she feel the full burning and stinging of her bruised and bloodied fists. The last of the cold had faded, but the prickling tightness of shame remained. It had a new layer, an uncomfortable alarm.
What was this cold that came over her? Where did it come from? Was it part of the blood curse or something else? She clenched her fist and then winced, the sharp pain coiling across her hand and up her arm.
The next time she saw Kepsalon she would have to ask about this sensation. Another clenched sigh escaped her. There were far too many matters that she needed to talk to Kepsalon about. What she wouldn't give for another Neyeb to explain this to her. Someone to let her know what was right or wrong. Perhaps the books would have something. Regardless, she needed answers, peace, and food.
As she started for the door, she remembered Vorec's other order: none of the supplies could be used to feed the prisoners. Turning, she surveyed the contents of the well-stocked supply room. It wasn't ideal. The Ayamin might not even know it existed. And…it could work.
She smiled tightly. Vorec wasn't going to win this one either.
It was not difficult to create an edible meal with the supplies though the meat badly needed salt. Amelia dug trays with heavy wood covers out of another storage room and stacked the cooked meat high. Then she made her way back to the dungeon.
All remained the same within the dungeon, except that all three had awakened. AaQar and Naatos were in the far end of the cell, sitting on the bench, backs against the bars. WroOth leaned on the front corner nearest the entrance. The thick slab table and a chair with a distinctive burn mark sat across from the cage, just a few feet from the doorway.
Amelia carried the trays in, keeping her gaze straight ahead. Her slippers made no sound on the stone.
All was silent in the cell except for the clicking of the chains WroOth fiddled with. Amelia slid the tray through the slot on the floor and then left to retrieve the waterskins. She avoided looking at them the whole time.
Chains clanked. "Has my little sister gone and gotten herself in trouble?" WroOth asked.
Amelia slid the waterskins through the slot. They slid easily across the floor, their contents sloshing. "I don't know why you'd ask that."
She stood. By that point, WroOth was in front of her. "Well, you're splattered with blood, and your knuckles are not in the best of shape when they were fine before. That usually indicates trouble. What have you been up to, dear heart?"
"I had to deal with some monsters in the menagerie."
"That explains some of the blood, but not the bruise on your cheek or your bloodied knuckles. Either you headbutted a crudon, or you fell down a staircase, or you got in a boxing match with someone, and I want to know who." He cracked his knuckles, leaning as close as the bars allowed. "Tell me everything."
Amelia shot him an irritated glance. "That's enough, WroOth."
Footsteps sounded. An Ayamin guard in a rumpled uniform appeared around the corner. He bowed his head to her. "Excuse me, your Highness."
"I said no one is to come down here without my permission." Amelia set her arms akimbo as she turned to face him. The soldier was quite young, perhaps only a year or so older than Matthu. She pushed down her frustration, reminding herself not to take it out on someone who didn't deserve it. Vorec had probably ordered him down here, and he had to follow orders.
"Trying to keep us all to yourself," WroOth chuckled. "I knew it. You do like us."
Amelia held her finger up at WroOth, keeping her gaze on the Ayamin. "What do you want, soldier?"
"Elder Commander Vorec said that since you broke his chair, he requires yours be taken in return." The Ayamin twisted his hands against one another, his gaze flitting between Amelia and the Vawtrians.
WroOth laughed. He let the chains clank on the outside of the cell. "Did you at least break it in an interesting fashion, little sister."
Amelia motioned for the Ayamin to be silent, but he was already an
swering WroOth. "She broke it over his head, sir."
"Over his head." WroOth's grin widened. AaQar sat up straighter, his brow creasing with worry lines. Naatos stood. "Oh, this is delicious," WroOth continued. "But it brings up so many questions. Why did you break a chair over a man's head, Amelia?"
"It doesn't matter. And as for you, Ayamin, tell the elder commander he is not going to have my chair." Amelia walked back to the chair beside the table and set her hand on its back, giving him a stern look.
"Well, technically it's my chair." WroOth gestured around the room with a grand nod. "Everything in this temple is mine. But I agree. If this Awdawm deserved to have a chair broken over his head, and I'm certain he did, he should not be given another. It'll just be a waste. Good furniture is harder to replace than good soldiers. However, if you must have something to sit upon, soldier, you are more than welcome to take one of the benches from this cell."
"I'm sorry, your Highness," the guard said hesitantly. "But Elder Commander Vorec said that I was to take it by force if you refused." He started to step forward.
"Don't pass within arm's reach of the cell!" Amelia shouted.
The Ayamin fell back and gawked at the three brothers. Naatos and AaQar remained on the far side of the cell with masked expressions. Only WroOth was near enough to strike. He feigned an innocent expression. "Do you really think I could kill someone shackled thusly?" WroOth lifted both hands in a playful shrug and struck the bonds together.
"What is arm's length for them?" the young man asked, bewildered. He fell back half a step.
"Just get out of here. The chair stays. You go." Amelia pointed at the hall behind him. She then rubbed her hand over the elmis on her palm. Her discomfort had grown.
"Elder Commander Vorec told me not to come back without the chair. And he said…" The young man's cheeks flushed a deep red.
"What?" Amelia demanded. "What did he say?"
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