"Of course not. He needs my body. But he'll crush me. I'm going to lose myself," Amelia whispered. "The Imprinting…"
"Oh." WroOth nodded. "Well, I saw what you were reading last night, and I'm not a Neyeb but I don't think you have anything to worry about. And I think I know what I'm talking about because I have been slammed down by your mind. I had your personality and conscience rattling around in my head for what seemed like an eternity. I know how you feel. And I don't think for a moment you will stop being as troublesome, cantankerous, and difficult as you have been from the beginning. You are so much stronger than we thought. Your feelings will change, but not who you are."
"It's not as if you're unbiased about this," Amelia said.
"No, but don't think I want a passive little sister or another Naatos. I love my brother, but that wouldn't be good for him either. Why do you think I like you? Because you are fun. Even when you don't intend to be. You are tenacious and stubborn and hilarious. Do you think I'd let that go away? And just as importantly, do you realize how boring my life would become if you only did what Naatos wanted?" His laugh trailed off as he watched her response.
Amelia ducked her head. "This is nothing like I thought it would be." She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. What good could prayer do now? She didn't know. Time wouldn't stop. The Ayamin wouldn't come, and she knew how this ended. She hugged herself, not wanting to think about what was coming.
The party continued outside. The guests laughed and danced. Amelia kept her eyes shut, her hands braced against her forehead and her face down. She wasn't going to lose it. There had been so many others who had had to make even harder decisions with worse consequences. Who was she to complain? And what could she do? She didn't even know what to pray for anymore.
A loud horn blast tore through the air.
Amelia lifted her head. Her heart pounded faster. They were back.
"It's going to be all right, but we have to go now," WroOth said, standing. "Now remember, Naatos is going to present you whatever it is that he caught. It will be dead but he will sever its head in front of you. If you become ill at the sight, turn to the right. The dais slopes down precisely for that. He will present you with the head, and you will give it then to an attendant who will come forward for it. From there, you and he will exchange vows. You simply vow what you choose. After the ceremony, there will be a feast and then dancing. You'll meet our friends and some of the other non Vawtrian viskaros. Now come on." He offered her his arm, patted her hand, and led her out.
All of the Vawtrians had returned to their states of rest and drawn back from the center of the courtyard. The floor was a mosaic of silver and white stones arranged in geometric patterns. Large swathes of the courtyard were gouged with deep trenches filled with water, confirming Amelia's suspicions that arrangements had been made to allow the Melspa Vawtrians the ability to shift into their preferred forms as well. Directly ahead was a large polished silver dais with three broad steps leading up to it.
The smoke and heat from the dancing passed away in the cooling breeze. Twenty-foot doors stood just beyond the dais. The metal was woven together in a five-piece interlacing design. They stood at least a dozen feet taller than the burnished walls enclosing the courtyard. No music played. All was silent until another horn blast.
WroOth led her out into the courtyard, taking her on a weaving path so that she did not have to jump across any of the water filled trenches. The guests all stared at her, silent. Their expressions revealed nothing.
Amelia kept her gaze up, refusing to duck her head or look away now. She had come close to breaking before, but that was it. No more.
With each step of her right foot, she drew in a breath, and with her left, she released it. Her heart pounded. Sweat gathered along the back of her neck and on the palms of her hands.
It was so quiet now that Amelia heard each footstep and each breath she took. WroOth walked with her up to the top of the dais, positioned her so that she was angled toward the doors, and then stepped to the side.
Another horn blast sounded, this time sharper and quicker in tone. The doors opened as if in response, thudding against the walls, and then Naatos strode in. He was clothed in the full ceremonial garb, which was similar to his brothers' except that his was rich green and black with gold. His garments were torn and soiled with mud and blood, though it was not as bad as she had seen him before. There was blood under his fingernails and sweat covered his forehead. Yet even so, he did not look out of place.
AaQar followed him. The silver-blue and black made his own white skin stand out all the more, but he looked far more at peace than Amelia had seen him in a long time. Several attendants followed, bearing a large carrier between them. It was draped by a black sheet and covered what could have been a dinosaur or a dragon given the size.
Amelia bit the inside of her lip. What was under there? Naatos was obviously pleased, even though he did not smile.
AaQar stepped forward, his posture rigid, and lifted his hands. "See now Naatos Ezro of the Shrieking Chimera Cadre, currently Para of Eiram, and Almonyek Vawtrian here today presents to his viskaro, Amelia of the Neyeb, a tribute that demonstrates his esteem for her in honor of the vows they both will give."
The attendants lowered the carrier to the ground. The two at the back then whipped the sheet back. A large creature that resembled a gorgonopsid lay there, apparently killed from a single spear thrust to the chest. The creature's massive jaws were half-opened, its long curved teeth glistening. Scars and surface wounds were scattered across its leathery grey hide. Patches of fur sprouted at odd points across its back and hind legs. Amelia's eyes widened. What was that thing?
Naatos's spear had been collapsed and now hung at his side. The blood did not spill out onto the floor as the ridges of the carrier were high enough to contain it. But the scent of blood and death wafted to Amelia.
AaQar gestured to Amelia. "Come forward and receive this besred as tribute."
Everyone looked at her now. Swallowing, Amelia stepped forward, uncertain what to even do with her hands. She let them hang at her sides.
Naatos did not look at her as she approached. In fact, he seemed to be trying not to look at her. But AaQar met her gaze, and when she neared him, he motioned for her to come and stand by the creature's head. "Do you accept this tribute?"
"Yes…" Amelia said.
AaQar removed a sword from the side of the carrier and placed it in Naatos's hand. "She accepts the tribute."
Naatos turned and nodded. He looked at Amelia then, his gaze piercing her. His expression remained masked, his lips in an emotionless line. But that glint in his eyes told her how pleased he was. How much he wanted her.
Taking the sword, he brought it forward, touching the blade to his forehead and then angling it away. Then, without a word, he swung the sword around and brought it down upon the besred's neck.
Blood sprayed up. Amelia shielded her face, her stomach twisting. Splatters of blood struck her gown, soaking into the emerald material almost at once. Naatos struck the besred neck again. The sword severed the head entirely. It fell to the ground with a thud, the teeth cracking against the marble floor.
Amelia winced, but she choked back the sickened gasp. No matter how many surgeries she had performed, she was not prepared for this.
Everyone stared in reverential silence.
Naatos wiped the sword's blade on a cloth and then passed both back to AaQar. Calmly then, he took the black sheet, lifted the head, and wrapped it up. Though the sheet was a single piece of cloth, he wrapped it around in alternating directions so that it wove over the entire head, sealing it completely in the dark fabric.
When he finished, he lifted his gaze to Amelia. "You are my viskaro, Amelia," Naatos said. He spoke with surprising gentleness and sincerity. "The one to whom I have locked and whom I will forever cherish. You are as much my family as my own flesh and blood. You are as dear to me as my own body. I have accepted you as my own for every day of ou
r lives, regardless of whether you choose to accept or deny me. My family is yours, and from this day forward, you will never be alone. To demonstrate this, I have slain a besred. The fiercest I could find. Just as I slew it with my own skill and cunning, I will destroy whatever seeks to harm you or separate you from me. Accept this as you accept my vows." He held out the besred head with both hands.
Amelia squirmed inside, but she held out her arms anyway. The massive head was almost too big for her to hold. She grunted slightly, trying to shift it so that it was more comfortable to wrap her arms around it.
"I'll never forget this day." She forced a smile, trying not to think about what she was holding. But it was such an awkward shape she started to lose her grip.
Naatos caught it before it slipped. He smiled slightly and turned it so that the jaw rested against her shoulder and the neck rested in her hands. "Do you accept my tribute?" he asked again.
Her heart clenched. She still didn't feel good about this. "Yes."
Naatos nodded. "And you have vows you wanted to say."
"Yes…" Amelia took a deep breath. Clearing her throat, she moved back a strand of her hair and looked up at Naatos. "I vow to remain faithful to you as a wife for so long as you live, and I will honor you and this marriage. I will do that in part by always remaining honest with you. I will never violate my conscience or my principles, and all that I have sworn before this, I will do. I will always give you the best I can whether that is in fighting or adapting. I accept your family as mine, recognizing that they are as much my own. I can choose friends; I cannot choose my family. Not even when it's complicated, confusing, and challenging. But I accept that just as I accept this…besred head. It's very appropriate. The greatest failing in our marriage, short as it has been, is our mutual underestimation of one another, what lengths the other is willing to go to do what he or she believes is best. You are a man of far greater conscience and conviction than I realized, and you have challenged me in ways I did not expect. And, Naatos, just like you, I will do whatever it takes. So I will honor and respect you as my husband for all the days of your life. No one ever could or will replace you."
At least I pray not, Amelia added silently. She shifted the besred head as it started to slip once more.
The corner of Naatos's mouth twitched as if he struggled to keep the fullness of his response in check.
An attendant approached Amelia and took the besred head away as two others brought a small table made from woven gold with a large carved basin in the center. Another servant brought up a stand with a large pitcher of water and a tall jar of what looked like lavender salt crystals. A gold-trimmed white cloth lay folded to the side next to a larger one.
AaQar stepped closer to Amelia, speaking in a lowered voice. "You pour the water into the basin, add the salt, and then wash Naatos's hands."
Of course. Why not?
Amelia's cheeks flushed. That was exactly what the Third Nalenth should be doing. Washing the hands of her enemy. Right before she feshtashooned him. But she picked up the pitcher and poured the water in. A little sloshed onto the stand. Picking up the salt, she poured it in. At once, tendrils of color expanded as the salt broke down.
Naatos placed his hands in the water, palms down. The blood and the mud on his hands dissolved as well, sending out contrasting threads of color.
Picking up the cloth, Amelia dipped it in the water and began to wipe the blackened marks on Naatos's hand. Though the water started to change colors, the dried blood and mud were not coming off. She scrubbed harder. Still it stayed. Amelia gritted her teeth and shoved his hand down. This was going to take more than a cloth. She scooped up a handful of the salt that had not fully dissolved and rubbed it over the stains.
Naatos leaned closer, his mouth near her ear as he whispered. "Your goal is simply to remove what you can. Not add more blood by scrubbing through my skin."
Amelia looked at him sidelong. "I thought I was supposed to wash your hands clean."
"You're not going to be able to remove all the blood," Naatos said. "Some of it won't come off."
Amelia arched an eyebrow. "Well, there's an understatement. On so many levels."
Naatos smiled.
"Can I ask you something?" she asked. She kept her voice quiet enough that only he could hear her.
"So long as it is not about the Tue-Rah or the invasion, yes," Naatos said.
"Do you actually like me? As a person? My personality. What makes me me. Or are you going to try to change me?" Amelia focused on the bowl of water. "Make me something else."
"You are not the woman I initially hoped for, no." Naatos tilted his head so that he was closer, his lips near her ear. "I do not think I would have been drawn to you in the same way. And, perhaps it makes me a fool, but, no matter how angry I become with you, no matter how infuriating you are, I would not wish you to be a different person. Perhaps more reasonable. Perhaps more accepting of me. But that may come in time. And who you are now is the woman I want, not some strange creature I would shape like a bruin into a crudon."
Amelia ducked her head more, both relieved and grieved at once. Her heart pulsed faster. It had passed through her mind more than a hundred times already it seemed, but she wished that he was not so set on conquest and Shon's destruction. If not for those two things, she could have perhaps been quite happy with him. She bathed his hands for several minutes longer until the water was thoroughly reddened. At that point, Naatos removed his hands and wiped them on the towel. They still left muted bloody streaks on the fabric, but they were cleaner.
AaQar stepped forward then. "The locking has completed, the tribute has been presented and accepted, and the two have spoken their vows," AaQar said. His voice was unusually strong, echoing. "These two are joined and presented now under the laws of the Vawtrians, the Neyeb, and the Awdawms as decreed. Woe to any who would even attempt to separate them."
Cheers erupted as Naatos took Amelia's hand. He slid his arm around her waist and lowered his face to hers. He was only a breath away; she knew that he wanted her to go the rest.
Closing her eyes, Amelia brushed her lips against his. He clasped her closer then, his lips parting as he sought her mouth. His kiss was surprisingly gentle, drawing her in. He ran his hand along the back of her head. Amelia's breath caught in her throat. Emotions swirled around her, warm and soothing, offering to pull her deeper. She lowered her guard, relaxing a little.
That was all it took. They swept over her like strong waves. She released the breath she had been holding and leaned against him.
This was it.
He moaned slightly. Then he pulled away and swept her up into his arms. "This is my viskaro," he said, facing the crowd. "Woe to any who would attempt to take her from me."
49
What Love Created
Shon checked the sealed black jar. It and others like it were double-wrapped and padded in the saddlebag at his side. Small sealed packets of powder were wedged in too. Each of them had at least a couple, even after the store had been split in half between Shon's group and the primary Ayamin force that was to follow. With the morning dew still fresh on the ground, Shon and his small troop left on their bruins with the second troop, a group of a dozen Machat. Irasso promised to take them through secret passages that began more than a quarter mile before the temple. Through these tunnels, they would slip into the temple unnoticed and complete their tasks.
Shon went over the plan in his mind. He and his troop were only a very small piece in the larger picture. The primary force would be about three hours behind them, providing him and his group sufficient time to sneak into the temple, rescue Amelia, secure the Tue-Rah, and prevent the other Vawtrians from coming through. Meanwhile, other forces would take back the palace in Telhtum and sweep across Libysha, liberating the towns and driving back the Talbokians.
Normally, Shon would have considered the likelihood of their success. He had fought alongside the Redans and assisted the Nalthumians on several occasions though
his role had been relatively small. He knew how dangerous this could be. How dire their situation. Yet he struggled to think of anything besides Amelia and rescuing her.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her face. He heard her voice in his mind. The future that he could have with her was not simply a possibility. It was a mandate, a reality that had to come into being.
Nausea twisted in his stomach. He blinked, readjusting his grip on the reins. You know better than this, he thought.
"Are you sure that this stuff is going to be effective on the Vawtrians, Irasso?" Matthu asked.
"As sure as any of us can be," Irasso said.
Shon loosened his grip on the reins. "You Machat have a slight advantage on that part, I'd say."
"I cannot see the effect of this. Kepsalon and Irna and others have seen it, and I trust them." Irasso gave Matthu a reassuring glance. "They wouldn't lie to you about this."
"No, but being wrong is a possibility, yeah?" Matthu remained tense in his saddle. He lifted up as if to see over the hills they approached. "Nothing is guaranteed."
"No." Irasso spoke with great patience, his expression masked so that his actual feelings were unclear. "But if you can deliver the full lightning charge, it will incapacitate any Vawtrian. Particularly if you strike them in the chest. This was how we stopped them in Polfradon. If you have only the powder, you will have a much smaller window of opportunity. They will be weakened for approximately five minutes, and you must inflict the injury then with the powder on the weapon."
Cobez, one of the Ayamin, sighed, his posture more alert than his tone suggested. "Let's hope it works."
Matthu did not appear comforted or reassured. He rode alongside Shon, his grip on the bruin reins so tight his knuckles had whitened. He stared straight ahead now, his shoulders rigid. It wasn't hard to guess what had him so worried.
Enemy Known Page 47