Beautiful Salvation (15 page)

Saamal rested his head against the floor, his body feeling like so much dead weight. He could barely raise his head, and his arms weighed as much as boulders. Adonis leaned down, sliding an arm around Saamal and lifting him to his feet. The demon took most of his weight without straining, and Saamal had a moment of gratitude for the borrowed strength. He concentrated all his effort on lifting his head until his gaze fell on Aiyana’s body still laid out on her bed a few feet away. Her peaceful features hadn’t moved, the even lines of her beautiful skin betraying none of the conflict he’d witnessed in the Dreamworld.

“Aiyana.” He’d meant to call out her name, an odd instinct to shout for her and see if she responded, see if she woke up, but it came out a mere whisper. He closed his eyes, fighting off the waves of dizziness that had him swaying even in the demon’s grip. In a hundred years, he’d had to adjust to half the power he’d once had, half the energy. All of that on top of spending most of his time in a castle infested with a powerful sleep spell. Despite all that, he’d still never felt as physically depleted as he did in that moment. He cleared his throat. “Is Aiyana awake? Has she stirred?”

“The lady has not moved since I’ve been here,” Adonis said cautiously. He tilted his head, shifting his grip on Saamal so he could look him in the eye. “I take it you were successful in finding her?”

A smile spread across Saamal’s features despite his frustration. “I did. She is more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.” He paused, a furrow forming between his brows as he remembered Aiyana’s determination to throw away centuries old customs, her disgust at the sacrifices. “Her parents have left her with some conflicting ideals, but I’m certain once she’s released from the Dreamworld, she will acclimate.” He faced the demon, letting his sincerity show in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Adonis inclined his head. “You’re most welcome. I’m only sorry she continued to sleep.”

Saamal gathered his strength and slowly sat up, accepting Adonis’ help. Every muscle protested, stirring as if they hadn’t been used in centuries and objected to the sudden need for locomotion. “I had hoped she might have awakened.” He spoke as much to distract himself from the supreme effort of moving as to share the thought.

“Tried the kiss of Death, did we?” Adonis’ eyes sparkled as he helped Saamal to steady himself on his feet.

Saamal ignored the demon’s teasing as he faced Aiyana, feeling like an old man as he summoned his strength and shuffled his way closer. The memory of kissing her in the Dreamworld, of the euphoria and power that had flowed from her lips, the sweet sounds she’d made in his arms, all swirled around in his mind, fueling him to move, giving him the strength to keep going. He wanted to wake her more than ever, wanted to hold her, know her. He wanted to finish what they’d started.

The bed seemed to move farther and farther away from him with every step, but eventually he reached her. He put a hand on her arm, stroking her skin in a gesture meant to comfort, though whether he meant to comfort her or himself, he wasn’t sure. The flame of hope that was burning inside him for the first time in years dimmed slightly when touching her produced no surge of power, no rush of vitality. He shoved away the doubts and quickly bent to kiss her before his traitorous mind could convince him it was hopeless. Aiyana’s lips were soft under his, reigniting his memory of what she tasted like, what she sounded like. He concentrated on the new memories he had of her, trying to push them into her body through their kiss, tried to use them to will her awake.

Nothing.

Aiyana didn’t move, didn’t twitch, didn’t blink. Saamal hovered above her for a moment, his mouth a mere inch from hers. Despair crawled higher inside him like a beast escaping a dark pit, growing stronger with every passing second. Aiyana remained as she had always been, silent and still and sleeping.

Saamal rested his forehead against hers for a moment, gathering his composure, then rose.

“I’m sorry, Saamal.” Adonis put his hand on Saamal’s shoulder, offering his support.

“There must be something I’m missing.” Saamal shrugged off the demon’s hand and stepped away from his sleeping princess, no longer able to bear the evidence of yet another failure. “Some part of the prophecy I don’t know, some detail I’ve overlooked.”

“Well, if there is a detail you missed, Kirill will find it,” Adonis assured him. “That vampire has a mind like a steel trap and he’s incredibly nosy. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s already found the answer in those documents.”

Confusion muddled Saamal’s mind and he blinked at the demon. “What documents?”

“Oh, that’s right, you were unconscious. Kirill arrived an hour or so ago. He said something about doing research and he’s been up in the king’s private rooms going through all sorts of documents he discovered—”

“He what?” Saamal put a hand to his head, trying to stop the throbbing pulse that bellowed in rage with every beat of his heart. His body ached to sit down, to lie down—anything to stop expending the energy it took to stand.
 
“Adonis, the king’s chambers, especially his documents—” He stopped, pressed his fingers to his head, and rubbed his temples. The incubus was hopeless at politics, it wasn’t surprising he’d found nothing strange about Kirill’s incursion. As for the vampire, Saamal supposed he should be grateful Kirill hadn’t merely helped himself to the king’s documents and retreated with them to
Dacia
. The undead prince was a hoarder of information and Saamal could only imagine Kirill’s delight at being let loose in the royal castle of a foreign kingdom, with all the information he could desire at his fingertips. The vampire would no doubt be impressed by the organization and detail of the king’s papers—the royal scribe was one of the best of his profession. Saamal sighed and started the slow, painstaking process of walking to the king’s quarters.

The tower stairs mocked him with every uneven step, every twisting curve. He’d climbed them more times than he could remember, they were as familiar to him as the lines in his own face. Yet his body was so cumbersome, so sluggish, that he couldn’t muster a protest when Adonis appeared behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Let me go first. If you end up falling down these stairs, it’ll take forever for your body to heal itself in your current condition.”

“I thought that my pride had dropped to its lowest point decades ago.” Saamal pressed himself to the wall. The cold of the stone sank into his flesh, draining away more of his warmth and he slumped in resignation. Adonis maneuvered past him in the narrow stairway, thankfully in human form. Saamal didn’t want to think about the challenge of maneuvering wings in the cramped conditions of the tower’s stairwell. He doggedly resumed his descent behind Adonis, grudgingly grateful for the demon’s solid presence, despite his humiliation. For the first time since Eurydice had broached the possibility of others helping him, Saamal realized how vulnerable he was, how low he had fallen. Strange how it seemed so much worse now that there were witnesses.

Gratitude nearly overwhelmed him as he finally reached the king’s chambers. It lasted until he passed through the doorway, until the décor of the room hit him full in the face. Saamal halted, lips parting slightly at the wall-sized tapestry hanging in a place of honor behind the king’s desk.

The White God.

Saamal closed his eyes and counted to three, trying to convince himself that he was seeing things, that what Aiyana had told him in the Dreamworld was still coloring his vision, putting images into his mind. “Adonis?”

“Yes?”

“The tapestry behind the desk. What do you see?”

“Um, a giant snake with green feathers down its back and white wings just a little narrower than Patricio’s flying over some sort of temple.”

Heart sinking further in his chest, Saamal opened his eyes, facing the tapestry. Then it was true. It wasn’t just in the Dreamworld, the king had actually turned away from him, away from Cipactli, away from his responsibilities all before the curse had set in. He’d been worshipping Saamal’s brother.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, Adonis.” Saamal brushed off the demon’s concern and averted his eyes from the offending tapestry. “Everything will be fine.”

He half fell into one of the richly brocaded chairs in front of the king’s desk, the thick cushion a blessing on his weary body. Kirill sat behind the king’s desk, in the royal chair, surrounded by neat stacks of paper. The vampire’s white-blond hair fell in a curtain, hiding his face as he trailed a long slender finger over the parchment on the desk. He hadn’t taken his attention from his work during Saamal’s conversation with Adonis and he didn’t acknowledge Saamal’s presence now.

“Kirill, surely you must realize what a breach of propriety this is?” Saamal propped one elbow up on the arm of the chair and rested his chin in his palm.

The vampire’s finger never paused as it traveled over line upon line on the parchment. “I informed His Majesty that all he had to do to keep me from entering his quarters was to request that I leave.” He gestured in the direction of the bedroom where Saamal knew the king was sleeping the same enchanted sleep as his daughter. “His Majesty remained silent—a clear acquiescence.”

“Kirill—”

“Saamal, after you declared your betrothal to their daughter, how closely did you watch the royal family?”

Saamal rubbed his temple, trying to soothe the headache forming there. “I was not around very much at all. After the scene at Aiyana’s naming ceremony, it didn’t take long for my enemies to become aware of my weakened position. Within the span of one moon, I was forced to fight two challenges.” Shame ate at him, but he kept his voice calm, his face impassive. “I barely escaped with my life. I left the kingdom to search for some means of bolstering my power until my marriage to Aiyana could restore me, but I was unsuccessful.” He stared off into the distance, remembering the day he’d come back to the castle. “I sensed the effects of the curse when sleep claimed Aiyana. I returned to the castle to guard her as I could. By that time, the entire castle was asleep.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Well, it would seem the king and queen were not terribly pleased with your claim on their daughter.” Kirill raised icy sapphire eyes to Saamal and gestured to a pile of documents. “They stopped the annual sacrifice in the hope that it would weaken you, and you would be unable to claim their child.”

Saamal bristled. “Yes. I became aware of that in the Dreamworld after I spoke to Aiyana.”

Kirill’s gaze remained unwavering. Something about his scrutiny unsettled Saamal and he had to resist the urge to let his power spill into his eyes in challenge. He took a slow breath and held the vampire’s gaze. There was no enchantment in it. It was not a threat. Making this into a battle of wills would serve no one.

“Your kingdom is very interesting.” Kirill tilted his head. “Created from the dismembered body of a primordial monster—a monster that continues to live on as the land your kingdom rests on. Is it true that you bonded with the monster that your land was created with? And that the sacrifices that your people perform annually are meant to keep the land—and you—strong and fertile?”

The thought crossed Saamal’s mind to lie, to make something up to keep Kirill from learning any more about his kingdom than he could from those parchments. Kirill wasn’t evil—as far as Saamal could tell—but he had an intensity to him, a completely unapologetic ambition, that made Saamal wary. The idea died as quickly as it was born. Kirill was trying to help him. For all Saamal knew, the vampire already knew the truth and was merely testing him to see if he would be honest. It was exactly the sort of thing the undead strategist would do. Finally, Saamal dropped his hand and nodded.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Though Cipactli and I are not bonded, per se, I did make a pact with her when she became the foundation on which this kingdom was built. I gave her certain assurances that she would be cared for. My connection to the land has less to do with her and more to do with my nature. I am an earth god, a creator god. I made this world.” He shook his head, thinking of the monarchs and their determination to save their daughter from the Black God. “Letting the land suffer did hurt me, but not in the way they thought it would.” He laughed, a bitter sound with no humor. “Their actions hurt their people more than me. Cipactli will not wait forever for her due.” He thought of the land outside, dying and barren. “If something is not done soon, they will not have a land to rule after they wake.”