Princess Reviled

by Butler, J. M.

  The thick brown earth easily coated and ground against her skin, but it did little more than the water. Her anger intensifying, she slammed her arms at her sides. There had to be something!

  As if in response, a soft plop struck the ground near the caspnut tree. Memory sparked within Amelia, then recognition. "Yes!" She hurried to the thick-limbed tree with the papery bark and knotless trunk. Plum-sized nuts lay around the base. Like young black walnuts, they were covered in a thick green skin only three shades lighter than the nearby patches of short grass. But unlike black walnuts, their pulpy skins could be used to remove stains, especially from skin and clothing.

  Eagerly, Amelia gathered up as many as she could. A large flat river rock and a narrow peg-like stone were the only other tools she needed, and the river supplied both. One by one, she peeled off the thick layers of skin and cast the nuts toward the mare, who happily crunched them up, soft shells and all. Their potent scent surrounded Amelia, filling her nostrils and masking even the smell of sweaty horse and dried blood. The replacement was an almost heady mix of damp, musk, cedar, and just a hint of smoke with an intense dose of a plantlike green scent. Amelia pounded the skins into a chunky brown mass, scraped them up, and scrubbed herself down.

  The scent intensified as she rubbed it over her face, but Amelia relished it. The cold burst and explosion of endorphins gave her an even greater surge of energy. Stripping off the gown and setting her weapons aside, she plunged into the pool and continued scrubbing zealously. She even washed the purple gown, beating it with rocks. She then wrung it out, and hung it in the trees before returning to the pool and aggressively bathing herself. She ducked under the water and scraped her fingers through her hair, ripping out tangles and knots. The waters splashed and frothed around her. Her skin burned and ached, her fingers and feet purple. At last she was done. The waters settled around her, the stillness rising. The chorus of twilight nightingales surrounded her.

  This was it. It was all that she could do.

  Trudging from the water, Amelia wrung out her hair. The cold bit at her now. She'd made up her mind. She was going to make a fire. What did it matter if someone came? If she was caught, she was caught. Didn't she deserve at least a little comfort? Her hair still dripping, she gathered armfuls of branches and twigs, taking care to avoid getting them wet. The small emergency lighter and lighter fluid she carried in her own satchel served nicely to start the fire. It crackled to life and spread slowly up the triangle of dry wood and bark. As it struck the droplets of water, it hissed and seared. Its warm orange and yellow light made the cool greys and blues of twilight all the deeper.

  The tingling in her veins and the exhaustion of her mind slowed her as she attempted to dress her wounds, awkward, uncomfortable, and challenging as it was. Over the years she had spent a great deal of time alone. The rich silence of a woods usually comforted her. Especially when the cicadas and crickets sang, and the night birds called from distant trees and hollows. But there had often been days in those years when the loneliness bit so deep she hadn't been able to run, train, or cry it away. She had often consoled herself with the hope of returning to her Libyshan family, demonstrating her value, saving their lives, and knowing, even if she had to die soon after, that she belonged.

  Amelia leaned against a boulder, her eyelids growing heavy. And here she was again, alone and missing family. That she missed Uncle Joe did not surprise her. What he would say about all this, she didn't want to imagine. But she could see the disappointment in his face, carving lines in his brow and around his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning down. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to push away the discomfort. One day he would have to know but she couldn't bear to consider it now.

  Her thoughts drifted to Naatos. Like it or not, she probably needed to ensure he and his brothers left Reltux. She reached out into the darkness, searching for him as before. A sharp ache immediately split through Amelia's mind. She grimaced, ducking forward and clasping her skull. Apparently the headaches hadn't ended. Its intensity faded after a few moments longer.

  Easing her grip, Amelia sighed. Obviously mindreading had more limits than she'd thought. She shook her head, then stoked the fire. A few more cracked branches roused its strength and stirred its embers. The truth was she did want more than this, and now new thoughts crept along the back of her consciousness. The possibility of a future, not simply with Naatos, AaQar, WroOth, and even QueQoa, though he likely still saw her as a traitorous sister. Which she was. She was a traitor to everyone really. But maybe there was a better ending for her somewhere.

  The possibilities of this new future grew stronger in her mind, but she barely glimpsed the first of them before she slipped into sleep. Her dreams were empty, except for the strange dream woman who mocked her from the edge of her mind. She would never give Amelia peace.

  36

  Reunion

  Naatos woke, ravenous. He opened his eyes. The grey stones of the high ceiling greeted him, a torch offering its soft light. He was back in the family quarters of the temple in his own bed, a large orange-and-red striped blanket with thin lines of cream and brown interspersed at intervals. Pushing it aside, he let it fall to the stone floor.

  No sound stirred as he entered the hall. AaQar's and WroOth's doors were cracked, but QueQoa's was flung open. The covers of his bed were mussed, the wardrobe ajar, and a pile of clothes near the foot of the bed. QueQoa had likely gone to tend to some task or other. Passing down the hall, Naatos checked briefly in AaQar's and WroOth's rooms to ensure both were present. AaQar lay peacefully on his back in his bed, WroOth half under the bed in his own room, draped with a blanket.

  There was an almost eerie quality to these chambers now, the air too cold and too muted. The silver puma did not appear to be present either. The ropes and cloth he'd used to tie up Amelia, along with several vials of AaQar's sand, remained in the common room, a discomforting sight and reminder. The dining room, however, was much improved with the long table piled high with dried meats, cheese blocks, and a myriad of large glass jars containing everything from almonds to caspets to pickled eggs to salt fish to walnuts. QueQoa had been thorough. Then again, he usually was.

  Naatos chose three strips of dried and peppered buffalo. At first the more he ate, the hungrier he became. All thoughts revolved around satisfying that one need, leaving him barely enough attention to get much needed water.

  He had nearly finished his seventh plate when WroOth appeared in the doorway. He rested his elbow against the doorframe. "I have—"

  Naatos picked up a strip of dried elk and tossed it at him. "Eat."

  WroOth caught it. He chuckled. "I ate a few hours ago, then fell asleep again." He pulled out one of the heavy chairs, its legs scraping against the ground. "QueQoa went hunting a couple hours ago. He's probably dressing the meat now. Do you know where Amelia is?"

  "I'm assuming not here." Naatos drained another flagon of water. "Have you searched the temple yet?"

  WroOth nodded. "QueQoa did a thorough search. I checked the Tue-Rah and a few places she might be."

  "Were there any marks on the Tue-Rah or the pillars around or on the walls?"

  WroOth leaned forward. "What sort of mark?" He frowned.

  "A large sign like this." Naatos indicated it on the table, then started on more salted elk.

  "No. Nothing." WroOth placed the jerky back on the table. "I haven't caught her scent either. At least not anything fresher than two days."

  "If they took her toward Cartholn or the Kadrid Barrier, she might not have been able to cross in time. Her pace may have been slowed with the flogging as well. Even with that medicine to help offset the effects."

  "It's impressive if she's even on her feet at all. We should search for her." WroOth scoffed after he said this. "Not that she'll be happy to know we aren't leaving without exacting at least some vengeance."

  "They flogged, humiliated, and exiled her," Naatos said dryly. He chewed and swallowed another bite of jerky. "I doubt her mercy
will be in good humor after a night in the cold on top of all that."

  WroOth chuckled. "Not to contradict you before dawn's light has even come, but you're wrong." He straightened abruptly, his mouth falling open. "AaQar…"

  Naatos looked up, but he froze as well. AaQar stood in the doorway, no longer appearing as he had the last time Naatos had seen him or even as he had been ten years ago. He looked more as he had twenty years ago, albeit gaunter. His hair had returned to its natural sleek ebony, his eyes again crystal blue, and his skin, though pale compared to most, was no longer white as paper. It seemed like such a long time since the whitening that seeing his brother in his natural state startled Naatos into silence.

  AaQar held up his hands. Even the creases in his palms now had color again, a faint darkening compared to the rest of him and a positive indicator that his iron and belium levels were strong. "I would rather not make this a big discussion point. Yes, I have renounced it, and I am healing. Some of the damage will take longer to heal than others. But by the length and breadth of my soul, I am here."

  Naatos nodded curtly. "Good." He knotted his fist, fighting to suppress the emotional surge. "I'm glad." Dozens of questions rose within him. The only thing that truly mattered was that his brother was healing. He gripped his brother's shoulder. "You should eat."

  AaQar chuckled slightly. He patted Naatos's hand as he pulled out his own chair. "Yes. Most likely." He removed one of the strips of jerky and tore off a piece.

  "Oh, now that you're awake, I can give you this." WroOth reached inside his doublet to the inner pocket and removed something. "I was afraid this might be destroyed in the shifting, but spite can be a powerful motivator." Pulling the bloody wad apart, he held up two ears. He handed one to Naatos, the other to AaQar.

  "Whose is this?" AaQar asked, frowning.

  WroOth pointed toward AaQar's. "That one. Not sure. Some guard. Thought it was the elder commander's." He indicated Naatos's. "That belongs to the elder commander."

  Naatos studied the ear. Dried flakes of blood fell to the tabletop. "It was a foolish risk."

  WroOth shrugged, then poured a flagon of water. "It all worked out, and the elder commander now has a hint of the game we're going to play when we finally catch up with him." After draining the flagon, WroOth flourished it. "Something called Every Time We See You, We'll Take a Piece of You Until You're Dead."

  Naatos placed the ear on the tray on the sideboard. "It was still foolish."

  "Don't let Amelia know you are doing it either," AaQar said. He shelled one of the hardboiled eggs and cast the shells into one of the waste bowls. "Which, given that she is not here, I'll presume we haven't found her yet."

  Uncomfortable once again, Naatos's muscles tightened. "They exiled her. She's supposed to meet us here, but…"

  AaQar nodded, picking up on his brother's unspoken words. "That may be difficult given her injuries. When we deliver the message to the Libyshans, we can demand her safe return to us."

  "I'm going to look for her," Naatos said. "My strength is nearly returned. The blood trail she left might be sufficient to pinpoint the direction. She passed the outer court and execution site."

  "Slight problem then," WroOth said. "There were at least a couple hundred out there, and we certainly left behind sufficient quantities of smoke and soot and blood to mask almost any trail she might have left. And she might not have been bleeding again."

  "If we know that she passed the execution site, that does give us a general direction," AaQar said. "The four of us can split along the course and search for her scent. And even if we don't find her, the Libyshans will be greatly motivated to locate her themselves."

  "I'm surprised the elder commander didn't just have her throat slit," WroOth said.

  AaQar nodded somberly. "He may have preferred that. But some semblance of following the law must continue. If she is to be exiled, Libyshan law forbids she be executed on Libyshan soil."

  Naatos's fingers grazed where the Neyeb betrothal necklace had so long rested. Its absence pained him. She had reached him twice before. Of course he had warned her not to return. It was too dangerous. But it wasn't as if she usually listened. If she did send him a sign or told him where she was, he'd easily forgive her that obstinacy.

  "Where did—" WroOth tapped his own throat.

  "The elder commander." The Awdawm had a long list of debts Naatos looked forward to making him pay.

  "So she can't reach you telepathically without it?" WroOth asked.

  Naatos inclined his head slightly. "She has once. But that was to give the warning."

  "She reached me as well," AaQar said. "I would imagine that given all she was doing, her mindreading may very well be exhausted. It may be a few days before she can connect so deeply again."

  "Or…" Naatos let his voice trail off. An uncomfortable silence descended. They all thought what he thought. It was also possible that she had died. Fighting wasn't something she shied away from, but bound in a cage after a severe beating increased the odds against her significantly, even if it was only against Awdawms.

  WroOth cleared his throat. He traced the lip of the flagon, his gaze focused on the floor. "When Mara died, I felt it. It was like a…" He paused, swallowing hard as his grip on the flagon tightened. "It was as if someone had stabbed me and cut my lungs and heart out. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All I knew was that loss."

  AaQar nodded. "I still don't know if Rasha lives, but something happened. There was a point four days after her disappearance where I felt a similar sensation though not so intense. Perhaps more a feeling of separation. It is impossible to miss."

  Naatos contemplated this. "All I am aware of is the fear that it might be so and resentment that the possibility even exists."

  AaQar chuckled a little. "Then that, along with her refusal to let anyone have the last chortle over her, means she's probably alive and most likely exhausted. She did enter my mind twice, and only once was when she was in physical contact with me. That could not have come without a price."

  "And Neyeb don't die from mental exertion," WroOth said. "Unless she tried to overpower someone's will without becoming a soul ripper and destroyed herself in the process. But that is loud, chaotic, and untidy."

  Naatos glanced at WroOth sharply. His brother intended it only as a joke, but the suggestion that Amelia might become a soul ripper and tear the living consciousness out of people and turn them into mere shells of flesh and bone brought other uncomfortable memories to mind. Sinara's words of warning in particular echoed, but he ate more of the salted beef rather than dwell on them.

  "So are we going to pretend we aren't pouring out lava-hot vengeance on Libysha?" WroOth asked. "We did make a few threats, and we are men of our word. More or less."

  "Amelia doesn't need to know any specifics," Naatos said.

  AaQar smiled wanly. "I doubt that will placate her."

  Naatos stood. His strength had nearly returned. "Most likely not. But she's been gravely injured. It seems unlikely that once she arrives, she'll remain conscious long."

  AaQar rested his chin on his palm. "Naatos…"

  "She needs rest," Naatos said.

  "A kiss might be a better gift than a concussion," WroOth observed dryly.

  "I never said I was going to concuss her." Naatos moved away from the table.

  "Maybe don't drug her either," WroOth added.

  Naatos closed his eyes briefly. "WroOth."

  "Preferably don't enrage her either. Or enflame her."

  "I will kuvaste you after this is through if you don't stop," Naatos said.

  WroOth lifted his arms, grinning. "Kuvaste, brother mine."

  "Stop." AaQar took another handful of walnuts. "Where is QueQoa?"

  Naatos strode toward the door. "I don't know where QueQoa is, and I'm not willing to wait for him any longer. If you're strong enough, we'll go, search for Amelia, and deliver the message. WroOth, find QueQoa or leave him a note that he can either join us for the search or
he can begin gathering all the beetles he can find."

  WroOth scowled. "Beetles?" A look of realization pressed over his face as he chuckled. "Oh."

  AaQar sighed wearily. "Naatos, we hardly—"

  "I think it's an excellent idea," WroOth said, grinning. "If QueQoa doesn't have time to find them, I will. Let's bury them to make it even more surprising for the good Libyshans."

  "If there's time," Naatos said.

  "Both of your priorities need to be reevaluated," AaQar muttered. He dropped the shells into the bowl and stood as well. "Once we find her, Amelia should not be told about what is happening within Libysha."

  WroOth rolled his eyes. "Even if she does still care, she really shouldn't at this point. They are a horrible people, especially if the rumors regarding that tower were true."

  Naatos stopped in the doorway. As he shook out his sleeve, bits of dried mortar fell out. "She does though, and it may be best to avoid drawing on arguments that the Libyshans aren't a particularly good people or even to suggest that they deserve this. It hasn't convinced her yet. No, don't tell her about what's going to happen, and if she asks, ignore the question. We'll figure out what to do with her once we find her. Now come on. There isn't much time."

  37

  Forest

  Amelia woke, cold, stiff, and aching from her temples to her soles. Exhaustion clung to her. It felt as if she had not slept for days, yet discomfort and necessity prevented her from resting further. All that remained of the fire was a pile of grey and black ash along with charred branches. Groaning, she eased herself up and took a swig of medicine. The pounding in her head was almost as bad as the fire along her back. The stale salty taste in her mouth remained even after she drained her waterskin.

  Amelia closed her eyes, storing up her will. If only she could just disappear into that blackness, vanish from all sight and responsibility. But as the medicine eased the stiffness and pain, she knew she needed to start moving again. She pressed herself up. Was it her imagination or was the medicine taking longer to accomplish the same task? Or was it just that this horrible headache made it seem that way? She pressed her hands to her temples and took stock of her situation.