Arami was the word the serpiente used to describe the heir to the throne, which meant the guard who responded was on his way to get Hara. Unfortunately, we still had bows pointed at us, and serpiente guards had fast reflexes. Even if they weren’t certain they wanted to kill Vance, they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if we made an attempt to flee.
“We could escort them both back to Midnight,” the one with a bow pointed at me suggested.
I fought the impulse to bolt in the hope that Hara would reject that plan, but made a decision on the spot: if they decided to bring me to Midnight, I would run, and force them to kill me if I had to. If I went into that place “escorted” by royal guards, I wouldn’t ever come back out.
It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, but it seemed like an interminable amount of time passed before Liam returned, not with Hara, but with Aaron—Farrell’s blood-son, and Julian Cobriana’s adopted son.
I almost made the mistake of stepping forward, which would have elicited an arrow in my gut. Aaron and I hadn’t been close when I lived in the palace, but he hadn’t been horrible to me either. I didn’t think he would sell me to Midnight, anyway. A clean execution was more likely.
The commander had called him Arami. Why?
No, he had said, “your Arami.” A joke, or something more serious?
I kept my mouth shut, but tucked the information away in my mind.
Aaron’s eyes widened when he saw me. As he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me forward, my breath caught in sudden terror until I realized he was not attacking me, but rather hugging me.
“Sir—”
“Put up your weapons, you fools,” Aaron snapped over his shoulder, glaring at the archer who had an arrow pointed at me.
“Sir,” the commander began again, “it isn’t safe for you to—”
“Put up your weapons and give us some space,” Aaron commanded, voice hard and gray eyes flinty. He was in that moment every inch a prince, but for some inexplicable reason he had greeted me not as an outlaw, but as someone dear to him.
He has Farrell’s eyes, I thought. If only he knew.
“Kadee,” Vance asked as the guards reluctantly put away swords and bows and backed away, “are you all right?”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure he could see it. Were there tears in my eyes? Why was I crying?
“I’ve missed you,” Aaron said softly in my ear. “You went away too quickly for me to say goodbye.”
“I was guilty of treason,” I reminded him.
He shrugged, releasing me partway but keeping a hand on my shoulder before he asked the one question no one had ever asked. “How many times did Hara’s guard hit you before you hit him back?”
I hit Paulin with a knife, I thought, but even that wasn’t the worst of it. “I let an assassin into the palace, remember?” I said bitterly. That had been the charge, anyway.
“Shkei.” The name hit me like a blow when he said it. “Right? The white viper?”
Why wasn’t he calling me a traitor? I struggled uselessly to form words, but none came.
“I am so sorry for what—” Aaron actually seemed to fight to suppress a sob, for someone who had to have been a stranger to him. “I do not have the authority at this time to grant you safety in serpiente land,” he said, “but please believe me that when I do, I will see that the entire Obsidian guild is pardoned.”
“Some of us are more guilty than others.” At least there was supposed to be a trial for treason. The serpiente had other crimes that did not get trials. “Farrell Obsidian is wanted for rape.” Next to that, even the accusation that he murdered Elise was nothing.
“Do you know who accused him?” Aaron asked.
I shook my head. The accusation had been made long ago, and under serpiente law, the accuser did not need to reveal him or herself publicly.
“It was my mother,” Aaron said, reading my silence, and then my surprise at the words. “She told Julian that was why she left the Obsidian guild. It was how she met Julian in the first place, since the Diente deals with all accusations of high crime.”
“He wouldn’t—Farrell wouldn’t ever—”
I didn’t get through the protest because Aaron added, “It seems even less likely when you consider that they were lovers for years before then. I almost wonder if Farrell told her to lie so Julian wouldn’t put her on trial for the guild’s supposed crimes.”
“You … you know about them?” I asked. My gaze went to the guards, but Aaron had waved them back far enough that they were watching with scowls on their faces, but could not overhear our hushed voices. Only Vance was still near enough to overhear us, though his gaze was focused on the distant guards. If they started toward us again, Vance was ready to alert me so we could run.
“Yes, I know about my father,” Aaron answered. “Misha told me.”
“Mish—when?” I tried to imagine how Aaron and Misha could even have met, with the exception of the one time she had been brought to the palace as a criminal to be tried and executed.
“We’ve met regularly for months now,” Aaron said, sounding puzzled. “She never mentioned it?”
I shook my head. Misha sometimes left camp for a couple of days at a time; she didn’t explain her movements, and I had always assumed she just needed some time by herself. Misha had obviously spent part of those meetings arguing our case with Aaron—quite successfully—but I couldn’t help but be suspicious. Why all the secrecy? “Where do you meet?”
“The palace, usually,” Aaron answered. “I’ve offered to meet her somewhere else—I know how dangerous it is for her to come there—but nothing frightens her.” He said the last words with a grin that reflected pride and admiration.
Misha had done more than just tell Aaron about his heritage. The expression on his face when he described her was that of a man who was more than just smitten.
Aaron had always been nice enough to me, but I had never expected this level of acceptance from him. Diente Julian might not have been his father by blood, but the cobra had raised Aaron as his own son, and Aaron had never had a chance to know his mother, who had died in childbirth. Now he was acting as if he was one of us, not one of them.
Irrationally, I found myself wanting to shake him. I bit back my arguments because having Aaron on our side helped us, but I wanted to demand, A few weeks with Misha, a few months at most, and you’re willing to betray the man who raised you? I knew why I loved the Obsidian guild, but Aaron had no reason to turn his back on the only family he had ever known for relative strangers. Did he even understand how enormous a decision he was making, or was this just another prince’s whim? Did he think he could just say he wanted both the throne and the freedom of the Obsidian guild, and the universe would mercifully bend to his whims? The world wasn’t that easy.
“Don’t get yourself arrested either,” I said, more in response to my own thoughts than to the conversation we had been having. “You have a good life.”
“I’m not going to get arrested,” Aaron replied. “I intend to take the throne.”
“You’re the younger child, and though I wish it didn’t matter, you’re a boa, not a cobra,” I pointed out, though I couldn’t forget the words I had heard: your Arami. At least one guard here supported him. If he took the throne, and then took Misha as his mate …
Impossible.
“I am the child of Diente Julian Cobriana, blood or not. He has made that clear.” The irony in his voice was evident. “More importantly, I am the only one in the royal family who is willing to refuse to violate everything the serpiente stand for in order to keep Midnight happy.”
“In that case, what are you doing here?” Vance asked, speaking up for the first time. “Were you with Hara’s group in the market?”
I hadn’t seen him, but Midnight’s market was a vast and chaotic place.
“Hara met with Midnight’s bailiffs to balance our accounts,” Aaron said. “I cut across the market to see what rumors I could gather from the other me
rchants. We met up afterward, but Hara turned back when the Shantel forest rejected her,” he explained. “I wanted to keep trying. Given some of the rumors we’ve heard, I thought the forest might react differently to me than it did to her.”
I knew why the forest had rejected Hara and would reject Aaron, but I still asked, “Rumors?” What information had made it to the serpiente, either from Midnight or from the Shantel?
Aaron hesitated, as if for the first time realizing to whom he was speaking. “You told my guards you’re on your way to Midnight,” he said. “Why?”
Unless I decided to trust him, we were at an impasse. Without going into detail, I explained, “The Shantel asked us to negotiate for them.”
That was consistent with what we had told the guards, so it didn’t lose us the tenuous protection we had based on Midnight’s laws, but it didn’t necessarily mean we were working for Midnight.
Aaron still didn’t seem convinced, which was fine. I didn’t need to know everything, as long as he stayed friendly enough that he let us go. After a long pause, and an assessing glance at Vance—the first time he had acknowledged the quetzal at all—he sighed, shook his head, and explained.
“Rumors say the Shantel tried to fight Midnight somehow, and have now locked Midnight out of their forest, either to protect themselves from retaliation or perhaps even in blatant rebellion. I thought the forest might let me in because I’m willing to support them.”
My skin crawled, hearing him say words like that. Here. In Midnight’s forest. In front of two people known to have dealings with the vampires. What had we said or done to make him trust us this way? He shouldn’t.
At the same time, I couldn’t help thinking, No wonder Midnight is demanding flesh, if there are rumors like that. Shane will be their proof that the Shantel are still fully under Jeshickah’s control.
Aaron continued. “Julian still sells our criminals to Midnight,” he said. “He willingly pays Midnight’s tariffs, and allows Midnight’s mercenaries into our land, and then has the nerve to try to denounce that empire as if he doesn’t support it every day. His daughter will follow his policies. I won’t.”
“The speech is nice,” Vance said, “but how do you intend to keep Midnight from destroying you as soon as you raise a hand against them?”
“If we can get support from the Shantel, with their magic—”
Aaron broke off when I shook my head. “The Shantel are trapped in their own land,” I admitted. “Their attempt against Midnight failed, and Midnight has demanded payment. The forest won’t let you in because the Shantel don’t trust anyone else not to turn them in for the bounty.”
“We’re going to Midnight now to try to explain the situation, and buy the Shantel more time before the vampires try to burn them out,” Vance added.
Are we still? I wondered, but didn’t challenge him aloud, since I had been telling the serpiente we were on our way to Midnight, too.
Aaron nodded slowly. After his speech against Midnight, I wondered what he thought of our current intentions.
“Do what you need to do,” he said. “I will bring word back to the serpiente about the Shantel. Maybe we can find some way to help.” I doubted it, but I nodded anyway. Aaron hugged me again, saying, “Be careful, Kadee. Hopefully, I will see you soon.”
He returned to his guards and snapped an order about letting us go peacefully, which left me feeling dazed. Vance picked his knife back up and we moved away swiftly, not wanting to test our luck.
“That was … unexpected,” Vance said, the words a gross understatement.
Aaron’s bizarre behavior had to be the frustrated result of high hopes, few prospects, and new love—though I had a hard time imagining Misha, as angry and bitter as she had been since her return from Midnight, engaged in such giddy infatuation.
Even before it came time to rise up against Midnight, I did not see how Aaron could follow through with anything he had said. Hara Kiesha Cobriana was a royal cobra and first in line to the throne. Not all serpiente loved her, but they all respected her and what a cobra form stood for, too much so for Aaron to easily stage a coup.
On the other hand, were we any different, believing in Malachi’s prophecy? Our dreams seemed just as impossible, yet what I had seen from Aaron today made it clear they were closer than ever.
There is a moment. I cannot see it clearly yet, but it will come. The players are moving into place. But if you go now, Midnight will destroy you before the white queen rises.
Had that been prophecy Vance and I overheard in the sakkri’s tent? If so, did it mean that even the sakkri—who was marked by the land at birth, and whose prophecies the Shantel treated as immutable fact—believed the end was in sight? Not soon enough to save Shane, but …
The white queen rises.
“DO YOU WANT to talk?” Vance asked, once we had put a little space between us and the serpiente royal party.
I shook my head. If Aaron succeeded and somehow took the throne, we would hear, and if he got arrested for treason, we would hear that, too. If he ended up needing to flee the palace, he would be able to find us. Malachi’s spells wouldn’t keep Farrell’s son away, especially since he was apparently close to Misha as well.
“Are we still going to Midnight?” I asked.
“Do you think we should?”
“It’s probably the last thing I want to do,” I answered, “but I feel like we owe it to them. I’m not sure how seriously Midnight will take us when we need to admit that the Shantel may have trouble delivering payment, but maybe we can learn something useful, like whether Midnight really has the power to burn the forest. Maybe the sakkri is right, and they’re bluffing. The sakkri seems to believe there’s hope if they just hold out a little longer.”
“Or maybe we can find proof that Midnight has the power to make good on their threat, and we can convince the sakkri to let Shane go.” Vance’s suggestion was the more cynical but likely option. “Either way, we should be very certain of our plan if we decide to go back to Shantel land. I don’t want Midnight to burn down the Shantel forest if we can stop it, but I don’t want to get trapped there again either.”
“We’ll see what Midnight says, then make our next plan,” I said.
The sun was sinking, turning the sky crimson and gold ahead of us, but we decided to keep traveling until we reached our destination. Midnight’s roads were well maintained, and the only predators to stalk them were the vampires themselves.
“There’s no point in reaching Midnight in the morning anyway,” Vance said. “We would only end up waiting for the trainers to wake.”
We reached the building referred to as Midnight proper under the light of a half-moon. I had been there only once before, when we had tried to kill the trainers … though thank God Jeshickah had never realized we were complicit in that failed plot.
That time, I had been too focused on my own terror to really see anything we passed. This time, as we approached the massive black iron fence, I instinctively looked around for guards. The gate, though ominous, stood open. The plants around its base and the moss across the path made it clear that it was never shut.
“Where are the guards?” I asked.
Ahead of us, a white slate path lit by gently swaying lamps led through a beautiful garden before it reached the grand front doors of Midnight proper. The trees inside were bowed, their branches gracefully weeping, and the leaves that were just beginning to escape their buds were deep red. I recognized the bare, thorny branches of long-stemmed roses that had not yet put out greenery for the spring, but there were other plants I did not know. Night moths danced around blooms the color of bone-deep bruises, and I saw a fox drinking from a stone birdbath depicting a sleeping leopard.
“There are guards,” Vance answered. “You don’t see them, but they see us. If we looked like a threat, they would report to their masters before we ever saw them. If they didn’t know me, they would intercept us once we passed the gate to ask our business.” He started forw
ard and I followed, against my better judgment. “But they do know me, so they won’t give us any trouble. Look.”
He paused to point to a tiny brown sparrow sitting in the gracefully draped branches of a pussy willow. In response to Vance’s acknowledgement, the little bird spread its wings and ducked its head as if in a curtsy—not a natural position for a bird.
“Shapeshifter?” I asked.
I had expected vampire guards. Even knowing that the market guards were all shapeshifters, I hadn’t thought that they would be trusted to do that kind of work here in the heart of the empire.
Vance nodded. “Most of the guards are.”
I couldn’t help but wonder what had driven this little sparrow to leave her own kind and come here. Was she lonely? Or did bloodtraitors like her have their own community somewhere, friends and maybe even families? Had she come here willingly, or been forced to it?
If the Obsidian guild hadn’t taken me in, would I have ended up here, too?
The sparrow watched us as we approached the heavy mahogany front door. It seemed so odd that Vance could reach out, lift the latch, and let himself in as if it were nothing.
The front hall was lit with a chandelier in a vaulted ceiling, and then a series of wall sconces in the hallways leading off to the left and right. Here, both doors were blocked by posted guards in crisp uniforms. I was sure one of them was a serpent, though I didn’t otherwise recognize his face.
I was still looking at the guards when Vance said, “The artwork is mostly done by members of Katama’s line. That’s one of Brina’s paintings, there.”
We were surrounded by spectacular art. Even the wooden chair rails that divided the lower section of the wall from the upper had been carved and stained to show an elaborate jungle scene. The painting that Vance had pointed out portrayed a beautiful woman with fair skin and dark hair—Mistress Jeshickah, lounging against a leopard with a white pelt, blue eyes, and black spots.
How could creatures apparently immune to the pain of those they ruled care enough to want, much less create, such breathtaking beauty?
Bloodkin Page 11