Lies in Blood

by A. M. Hudson

  My blood ran cold. I sucked my gut in. “It’s just a little. . .”

  “Disgusting.”

  “I was gonna say pot.” I patted my belly. “And, can you blame me?”

  His brows moved up his forehead and he scratched just beside his nose. “No, I suppose not. You never really did have any self-control.”

  “I have plenty.” I stood up. “So what if I’m putting on a little weight? It’s not like I’m fat.”

  The smugness swathed his face then. He folded his arms and looked me up and down. “You’re the fattest I’ve ever seen you, and I gotta say, Ara, it really doesn’t suit you.”

  “That’s it,” I said through my teeth, the rage moving through my chest, taking control of my arm. He caught me before my hand impacted his face, though, and held my wrist tight, his eyes locked to mine like stony caverns.

  “You ever try something like again,” he said, gliding into me. “And I will do more than just catch your hand. Do you understand me?”

  “You don’t frighten me,” I said, but my voice quivered. I came to rest with my spine against the wall, my gaze gridlocked with his—hiding nothing of the fear he created in me. Once, I knew him well, knew he’d never hurt me. But now, I wasn’t really so sure.

  He looked down at my hand, his eyes fixing on the lone gold band around my ring finger. “Why are you still wearing that?”

  I jerked downward, trying to pull out of his grasp, but he held my hand in an iron grip and capped his fingertips around the ring, forcing it from my finger. “David, don’t.”

  “You have no right to wear this.” He held it up, taking a few long strides away from me. “You lost that right the day you bedded my brother.”

  “We’re still married,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “And Lilithians don’t believe in divorce. So, like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

  “Let me get one thing monumentally straight—” He stepped closer, his shoulders rounding to lower his face to mine. “I am stuck with nothing. Our bond may be by that of the law, Ara, but you are in no way my wife. You mean nothing to me nor do the promises this ring symbolises.” He held it up in a circle between his fingers. “We may not be allowed to divorce, but make no mistake, we are not, nor shall we ever be again, husband and wife. And if I see this on your finger again, I will cut it off with the blade in my scabbard.” He placed a hand to his knife for good measure. “Do I make myself clear?”

  I nodded, squeaking instead of speaking.

  “Right.” He rolled to stand tall again, ditching the gold band at my feet. “Now pull yourself together. We have Court in ten minutes, and unless you want to be mutilated before my eyes, on this very day, we’d better convey a united front.”

  “Didn’t know you cared.”

  He stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. “I don’t.”

  “Since when?” I said. “Can you really just fall out of love with me that quickly?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the boy I met at school?” I went to walk forward, deciding to stay put instead. “What would he think to know you felt this way? Go back, David. Remember us. Remember what we felt then. Do you really hate me so much you can’t ever forgive me—forgive that girl you fell in love with?”

  Both of us stood silently then. I could see his memories flashing and fighting against reality and perception—see him picture me in my yellow dress on the driveway of my dad’s house that first day I arrived. He’d never seen anything so uniquely and perfectly matched to him and all his desires in his hundred years on this earth. He loved me then, and I felt the love surround that thought, but he cast it away quickly, smothering it with images he’d clearly stolen from Jason of the night he and I slept together, making me draw a breath.

  “Yes, Ara,” he said to the floor, still not turning around.

  “Yes to what?”

  “Yes, love can die in an instant,” he muttered coldly, walking away. I stood motionless, horrified over what he’d seen in Jason’s thoughts. It wasn’t much, just a few stilled images, clearly stolen when Jason wasn’t in control. But it was enough to haunt David. And to haunt me.

  I toed the ring then, seeing the distance from here to floor as much greater than it actually was. And for that moment, I didn’t even feel as if I had the right to pick the damn thing up. He took it from me—threw it to the ground like it was nothing. Because it was nothing, I guess. He was right. All the promises we made gave that ring life, and without them, it was just a plain gold band. It meant nothing.

  I turned and walked away, too, leaving it behind on the floor.

  ***

  Despite personal grievances, neither David nor I let them get in the way of our duty to the people. We politely took the back seat when the other was standing before the Court, deciding the fate of lawbreakers, and it seemed we’d worked out an unspoken system for who ruled on what. David left the humanitarian cases up to me, and anything involving or requiring harsher punishments were left for him. But when those doors closed at the back of the Throne Room and Court had ended for the day, cold, dark David returned, speaking no words to me. I’d turned and offered him a smile—a kind of truce, but he did not accept. He just checked my finger to see that I’d obeyed him and, once satisfied, hurried from the room.

  I didn’t even bother to tell him I left the ring on the floor in the kitchen where he threw it. I didn’t have the heart to touch it again, not when it now symbolised so many mistakes and so much heartache. Someone would find it and return it to me, and I could play dumb—say I’d lost it when I was washing my hands. But at least, for now, I didn’t have to tell anyone David forbid me to wear it. And the lie—losing it—was easier to carry than the truth. Then again, maybe I should have picked it up and kept it in my pocket. It’d only been three days since my confession. I couldn’t really expect miracles. The fact that we could rule with civility between us was divine intervention enough.

  I rolled onto my back, fluffing my pillows under my head, then just laid watching the sky outside change from black to dark blue—the stars slowly fading out group by group until dawn was on the horizon. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to walk out and meet with Mother Nature this morning. Although it always recharged me, made me feel as though I’d slept when I hadn’t, or that I was well when I felt ill, I just didn’t feel as if I could be bothered. I went there day after day, trying to find a way to stop David using the dagger on Drake, but the mother only seemed to want to talk about Jason. I thought maybe Jase was the answer, the key to saving David, but I just didn’t know how. Then again, maybe she wasn’t all that concerned about losing David. Maybe she was trying to tell me I should be with Jason. Who knew? I was never really good at riddles.

  “Ara?”

  I sat bolt upright, searching the darkness for the voice when, across the sitting room, a creaky door slammed shut and someone whispered profanity at the sudden loud noise.

  “Jase? Is that you?”

  “Yeah.” A lamp came on beside him. He stood there by the secret entrance beside the fireplace, his charmingly sheepish smile sending the jitters and ghosts of my instant reaction away.

  I flopped back for a second and breathed out. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s almost dawn.” He nodded to the window. “Figured you’d be headed out for your usual walk soon.”

  “I—” I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them “I wasn’t planning on going today.”

  “Why not?” he asked, strolling over, with both hands concealing something behind his back.

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “About?”

  “David never really had a great life. I mean, neither of you did.”

  “And?” He sat down beside me, making the bed dip a little, as if he were human and gravity had any bearing on him.

  “He’s a good king. He loves what he does, and he. . .”

&
nbsp; “You still don’t want him to die for you, do you?”

  I shrugged. “Seems pointless. There’s never gonna be a baby now, so…”

  “That’s not it, Ara,” Jason said. “He’s not doing this to protect the child. He’s doing it because he’s got nothing left to live for.”

  “He has a monarchy. He has his uncle. I—”

  “You don’t get it.” He smiled at me, making all his lovely white teeth visible. “He hasn’t got you.”

  I thought about that for a second. “I understand that. But why does he care? He doesn’t want me anymore.”

  “It’s . . . he’s lost faith. He never believed in happiness until he found you, Ara. And now that’s gone, he thinks he’ll never find it again. He doesn’t really see any reason to stick around.”

  “Well, he doesn’t get to make that decision.”

  “Try to stop him,” Jase said, and we both smirked, shaking our heads.

  “He’s impossible, isn’t he?”

  “You didn’t have to grow up with him.”

  I laughed out through my nose, then nodded at the package behind his back. “So, what you got there?”

  “Gift?”

  “What kind of gift?”

  “For you,” he said, presenting it with a nod of his head.

  I took it in my lap and considered it for a second: it was square, fat, velvet-red, all bound neatly with a silky black ribbon. “What is it?”

  “Open it, silly.”

  The knot slipped apart like water over glass, and fell away from the velvet with only one small pull.

  “I thought you could wear it when you go walking in the forest, rather than trying to find your clothes again every time,” Jase explained. “It’s bright, easy to see, and I figure you can hang it off a branch or something.”

  I held up the cloth and my mouth opened in shock as it unravelled in heavy layers. “It’s . . . Jase, it’s beautiful.”

  “Wanna try it on?”

  “I’d love to.”

  He stood up and took the cloak, holding it out for me. I wriggled out from under my warm covers and pulled my nightdress down over my undies, turning my back so he could cloak me. And it wrapped my shoulders like a blanket, kind of heavy and warm, with that new fabric smell to it, as if it’d just come from the tailor.

  “It’s perfect, Jase.” I turned around to face him.

  He tied the ribbon up just under my collarbones, drawing the hood over my head after. “And it’ll keep you warm, too, when it gets colder out.”

  I looked up at him from under the cloak, changing the smile in his eyes. “Thank you, Jase.”

  “You’re welcome, Ara.” He leaned in and kissed my head, then pulled away as if gravity were forcing us together. “I’ll see ya later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I watched him leave through the secret door, standing in the darkness of a dawning day as if I could slow it down or make it go away. This one would be like the next, and so on and so on, until, one day, David would take that dagger and kill Drake, and I would wake up to the rising sun, but I’d never really see the light again. David didn’t want to live now that he’d lost hope. And I didn’t want to live in a world without him.

  There was only one way to solve this issue now—one way I could save David. If there was no contract, Drake wouldn’t be a threat. And if there was no me, there could be no contract.

  I tossed the cloak aside and ripped my clothes off.

  The solution had been staring me in the face the whole time. He didn’t need to die if there was nothing to die for. He could have the life he always wanted. It would be my gift to him for saving me from the darkness I sunk into all those years ago after I lost my mom—the same darkness I’d never really escaped. I owed him this much. For all the pain I’d caused him, and for all the love I would eternally feel for him, I at least owed him a future as king.

  ***

  Quaid stood as I opened my door. “Morning, Ara.”

  “Morning, Quaid.”

  “Off for your dawn walk?”

  “Yup.” I closed my door, fastening the cloak around my naked body. “You can head off for a coffee break, if you like.”

  He stuffed his phone in his pocket and flashed me a toothy grin. “I’ll see ya in an hour.”

  “Yeah.” I tried to smile. “See ya then. Oh, and, Kumar?”

  He’d taken leave quite eagerly, but when I addressed him like that, he stopped and very slowly turned around to face me. “Yeah.”

  “Could you hold onto this for me?” I reached into the little side pocket and pulled out a small handwritten note. “I was going to give it to Jason later, but I don’t want to lose it in the forest.”

  He took the note and thumbed the edge, his eyes staying on it. “What is it?”

  “Just a letter,” I said casually and walked past him, holding my head high, even though I just wanted to break apart inside. Of all the people I was leaving behind, I knew it would hurt Jase the most. I didn’t know who to write a farewell letter to, but I knew anything I wanted to say to anyone I cared about would be passed on by Jason. He was the only one I could truly trust. And I knew I could trust Quaid to give it to him.

  The red cloak brought me comfort as I glided like frost over the slated floors toward the Throne Room, passing beneath the cold arches of the manor, blending with the blue shadows of dawn. The words to my letter moved across my lips like a prayer, travelling with the hopes that each farewell would find its recipient. Especially David. There were few words I could offer him as goodbye, and not once did I use the word ‘sorry.’ He knew, deep down, that I was sorry and that what I did would slowly and surely have destroyed me more than it did him. I didn’t need to tell him that. One day, centuries from now, when he found someone else to love, he would wake and realise all that I would have said anyway. Only then would it mean he was ready to listen.

  The great Throne Room doors opened gracefully, as if welcoming my footfalls to the road ahead. Here, I began my journey home again. Here, I would farewell my past and all the mistakes, and move forward. Finally free.

  I left the cloak at the base of the hill outside and entered the forest in my pure form, closing my eyes and feeling the energy of Nature guide me, gliding through the base of the trees like wind at my feet. It moved me forward quickly, sending word a breath ahead that I was on my way home—that I was coming to return to the place we all once began.

  “Spirits of the forest,” I whispered, “Show me how to return to that which created me.”

  The world went silent, the breeze dying away with the song of birds, and the leaves in the trees coming to a standstill, all waiting as if holding their breath, watching as the spirit of Mother Earth made herself known in this place. I closed my eyes and imagined her there by the Stone up ahead, with open arms welcoming me.

  And I knew what to do—as if her voice itself whispered the answer in my ear.

  One foot over the other, I walked at a pace respectful to the flow and ease of all things living, existing, breathing this world of life in the rhythm of Nature. And as I came upon the Stone, fell to my knees and swiped a nail tip across the centre of my palm, drawing blood to the surface of my skin. She wanted it back—Mother who guarded the gateway between worlds. One must offer blood for anything asked of this Stone. I understood that now. Life, knowledge, magic: all of it could be mine for the exchange of this substance inside me that was connected more richly to the earth at our feet than this very platform in front of me.

  I laid my hand to the Stone and felt it reach up, felt the life force inside it move to the blood on my palm and draw it away. “Take me home,” I whispered my hot breath into the rock. “Free me from the binds of this world so that I might save my people—save the king.”

  I waited, imagining for a moment how Jase would react to my letter, imagining how relieved he’d feel. I knew relief wasn’t what I’d be leaving behind, but after some time passed, I knew everyone would see that this was for the bes
t. One day they would come to understand why I did this. I’d failed at so many things, and for once in my life, I would die getting something right.

  “Auress,” a ghostly voice said.

  I didn’t need to look up. Didn’t need to see where She stood. I could feel her beside me, feel her touch on my skin. I closed my eyes and smiled. “Mother.”

  “Young Auress, defender of all natural things, protector of this realm. Why do you seek to free yourself of your claim?”

  I placed my other hand to my bare chest. “I broke him. I hurt him deeper than any soul should ever hurt, Mother. I can’t save his heart, but I at least owe him his life.”

  “A wise decision, young goddess. But not the only path that was laid at your feet.”

  I nodded. “Yet, it’s the one I’m choosing.”

  “And what of her?”

  “Her?” I asked, trying hard not to open my eyes.

  “Your child.”

  “There is no child.”

  I felt her touch become warmer, almost as if I could feel her smile. “Would you still want to die if I told you I foresee a child in your future?”

  I swallowed, my bleeding hand stinging now, going cold as the connection to the earth flickered, fading. “David won’t give me a child now, and even if he did, I can’t stop Drake from taking her, not if he lives.”

  “Ara!” A desperate voice hollered through the dawn shadows, stealing the tranquillity for a second.

  I turned my head and looked for the mother, but there was only warmth there where I imagined her. “Hurry,” I pleaded. “Take me now before they come.”

  “Ara!” It called again, and beyond the fog I saw faces, sharpening and taking shape before my eyes: Mike, Quaid, Emily, Arthur, and Jason.

  “Grab her, Mike!” Emily cried.

  “Don’t!” I ordered, my voice coming through my lips in a deep, almost baritone whisper. “Only an Auress can enter here now. You’ll die, Mike.”

  “Ara, please,” he begged, taking a step closer.

  “Don’t touch me.” I aimed my finger toward him, the command of my voice stopping him in his tracks. He looked down at his feet, trying to move them, but they wouldn’t shift. “I’ve made my choice,” I said, searching their eyes as my gaze travelled over each face. “This is the only way.”