Beautiful Salvation (20 page)

“You came to us at our daughter’s naming ceremony, demanded her hand in marriage. You brought evil down on her.” Light flared in the old man’s eyes, belying the weakness of his body. “I did what I could to keep her safe and I will not apologize for it. Ever!”

“And when the land dies, and you die with it, what will be left for your daughter?”

Aiyana dug her fingers into Saamal’s arm as heat infused his voice. She looked from Saamal to her father. “Do not speak of me as if I’m not here.”

“Aiyana,” her mother protested, her voice thick with tears.

She faced her mother. “I know about the betrothal, Mother.” She met her mother’s eyes. “I know who he is.”

Her mother’s hand flew to her throat and Aiyana took her other hand in her own.

“Have faith, Mother. Everything is going to be all right.”

She glanced back at Saamal, meeting his eyes. They were still human, not the gold of the jaguar or the black pits of the god. As she stared into them, they softened.

“You spoke of wanting to change. If you want a new life for you and our people, you cannot hold on to past grudges.”

Saamal took a long, slow breath, but nodded. He faced the king and bowed his head once more. “When I claimed your daughter’s hand in marriage, it was for the power.” His voice came out quiet but clear, strong without being overbearing. “The prophecy had said she would bring me great power, and I wanted that power for our land, for our people. As was my nature, I kept my eyes firmly on the goal, and ignored the consequences of my means.” He looked at the queen and he bowed his head. “I didn’t see her as someone’s daughter. A child beloved by her parents. I didn’t think of how frightened you would be, how much you would worry about what would become of your little girl if she married the Black God. I thought only of the end, the benefit to the kingdom as a whole.” He stood a little straighter, planting his feet shoulder width apart. “I am not saying that I was wrong. I am a god, the creator of this kingdom, and my responsibility was to make it as strong and well-protected as I could.”

He patted Aiyana’s hand. “However, in my zest to strengthen my people, I forgot the second part of the prophecy. The part that said your daughter would change me, would lead me down a different path.”

Saamal took the queen’s hand in his. Aiyana’s mother’s eyes widened and her body trembled more violently until Saamal leaned down and laid a kiss on her knuckles.

“You have raised a truly amazing daughter. She is strong and fiercely loyal to her people. It is my greatest hope that she will fulfill the second part of the prophecy and help me to find a new path. Know that she will not be queen in name only. And I will strive every day to be worthy of her.”

“You will never be worthy of her.” The king’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his cane. He pulled his wife’s fingers from Saamal’s gentle grip.

Aiyana shot her father a sharp look. “Father—”

“Do not mistake my desire to be a good husband to your daughter as a sign that I will forget my duties to my kingdom, Your Highness,” Saamal said, his voice hard despite the low tone. “You have damaged the kingdom, brought suffering to your people. There will be much work ahead to undo the damage you have done. I will make sure that restitution is made.”

“Am I to be the next sacrifice then?” the king snarled.

Aiyana’s heart leapt into her throat. Such anger in her father’s eyes, such…pain. Was his suffering so great that he wanted to die? “Father, stop.”

“It would be a fitting offer to the land you’ve been starving,” Saamal answered evenly.

Shock poured over Aiyana like a bucket of icewater. She whirled to face Saamal, her heart constricting in her chest. “Don’t ever jest about such things.”

Saamal’s lips parted as if ready to respond. Something in her face seemed to stop him and the words died on his tongue. He contemplated her for several long moments, his expression inscrutable.

Aiyana pulled on his arm, tugging him toward the door. She had to speak with him privately, needed to convince herself that the connection they’d forged in the forest alone hadn’t vanished. “Come with me. I want to show you our gardens.”

She led Saamal away from her parents, out the door and around the palace to the extensive gardens. They were both silent as the sound of her mother’s sobs faded behind them, muffled by the labyrinth of roses and ceiba trees. She tried to put her mother’s tears out of her mind, clearing her head so she could begin to comb through the tangled mess of thoughts fighting for dominance. Everything had seemed so simple in the forest. Had it all been a foolish dream? Had she been simple-minded to think that it would be so easy to bring Saamal to her parents, that they might all work together to find a solution?

“I was wrong.”

Saamal’s serious voice pulled Aiyana out of her thoughts and she gratefully grasped at the thread of conversation—a lifeline out of the quagmire of her doubts. “What?”

“I was wrong. I never should have demanded your hand.” Saamal paused to finger the velvety rose petals of one of the blooms, touching it like it was something sacred.

Aiyana took his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, feeling a sudden desire to bask in their connection, the shared energy that flowed between them every time they touched. “My father is upset, as any father would be at the thought of his daughter leaving him. He—”

“My apology has nothing to do with your father,” Saamal interrupted, lingering anger tightening his words. “He is a father, but he is also a king. He made a pact when he took up that crown. Breaking that pact was a violation of the trust put in him by the people, and by the land itself. He—”

Saamal stopped and took a deep breath. “I apologize.” He took his hand from the flower and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What’s done is done, and now is not the time for such conversations. What I meant was that I should have asked you for your hand. You are a princess, you deserve a proper proposal.”

Aiyana raised her eyebrows, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Indeed?”

Saamal gave her a half smile. “I told you before that all sacrifices offered to Cipactli were willing. The sacrifices were part of a pact, and they were necessary for the good of the land and its people, but I have never demanded anyone give their life. The prophecy told me that marrying you would bring me power, and I believe that empowering myself will in turn empower my land and my people. But demanding your hand in marriage is no different than demanding a sacrifice.” He cleared his throat. “I was wrong to take what should have been freely given.”

“Very true.” Aiyana cleared her throat and gestured for him to sit with her at the foot of her favorite tree. The high roots provided the perfect space to nestle into, large enough to fit them both, and the flaming red flowers on the broad canopy offered shade from the sun growing hotter by the hour. She settled against Saamal’s side and for a moment, she could pretend they were back in the forest.

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” she said finally. “When you first showed up, I don’t recall you demanding my hand in marriage, or throwing me over your shoulder and carrying me to the altar. You haven’t rushed me, or pressured me. If the ghost hadn’t told me of the prophecy, I still wouldn’t know you had any marital intentions toward me at all.” She focused on the root pressed against her right side, hoping the disappointment she could have sworn she’d heard in her voice had only been her imagination.

Saamal cleared his throat. “Actually, I have a confession.”

“So many in one day?” Aiyana teased.

Saamal flushed. “Yes, well… When I returned to the physical plane to attempt to revive you, it didn’t work. It occurred to me that perhaps if I could not bring you to the physical plane to marry you…perhaps I would convince you to marry me here.”

Aiyana’s heart fluttered and she sat up a little straighter. She cursed herself for seeming so eager and tried to settle down again. “And how did you plan to convince me?”

Saamal shifted on the ground. “I’m afraid I know little of wooing,” he admitted. “It is likely that I would have proceeded along a rather traditional path.”

“Oh?” Aiyana prompted. “And how would that have gone?”

Saamal reached behind him and a look of concentration passed over his face. Aiyana’s eyebrows rose as he pulled a blanket seemingly from nowhere. It was woven from thick wool, beautifully dyed a deep shade of crimson and decorated with bright gold and orange stripes in a zig-zag pattern. She blushed as Saamal wrapped them both in the blanket, pressing their bodies together under the beautiful fabric. He groped for something else at his side, hesitating. When he still hadn’t moved after a few moments, Aiyana leaned a little closer.

“What’s wrong?”

Saamal lowered his eyes to the ground, still toying with whatever he had withdrawn. “Long ago, it was a tradition among our people that men intending to romance a woman to be his wife would find an object out among nature that spoke to him and make an instrument from it. It’s said that no lessons would be needed, no skill necessary. The spirits would guide him in making the instrument and the music would flow from his soul to speak to the woman he desires.”

“It sounds beautiful.” Aiyana frowned at the shadow in Saamal’s eyes, the doubt that screamed from the tension radiating from his body. “I’m not sure why you’re so hesitant. Do you think I’ll mock your song?”

The corner of Saamal’s mouth twitched and he glanced at her. Slowly, he lifted the object he held beside him. It was a flute of some sort, smooth, white, with small holes drilled into it. Aiyana examined it closer and realized why Saamal had been wary of showing her the instrument—it was carved from bone.

“Is that…?”

Saamal met her eyes, his expression guarded. “The femur of a sacrifice. A powerful artifact now.” He turned the flute over in his hands.

Aiyana kept her expression composed, not wanting to discourage him from being honest with her. “And you carved it yourself?”

“Yes.” He ran a finger down the long body of the flute. “I meant what I said in the forest, Aiyana. I want us to find a new way forward together.” He lowered the flute. “But you should know that what I am will never change completely. I come from a world of flesh and blood, and my power is not…pretty.” He raised his eyes to hers, meeting her gaze with silent resolve. “I would offer you flowers and sunlight if I could.”

A stab of anger pricked at Aiyana and she pulled away slightly. “I don’t appreciate your judgment.”

Saamal’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry?”

“Am I such a fragile woman that I’m supposed to be frightened off by a bone?” she demanded. “Does the fact that I hold half your power—half of your
dark
power—suddenly mean nothing? Am I not the same woman who took jaguar form to help defeat
Achiyalatopa
?”

“I—”

Aiyana jabbed a finger into his chest, her irritation mounting the more she thought about it. How much of what they’d had in the forest had been fantasy? How much more of that connection, that warm feeling of respect and camaraderie would she be asked to part with?
None of it
.

“You let my father get to you. You let him put a picture of me in your head, a picture of me as the vulnerable child that needs protecting. I’ve fought my whole life to escape that suffocating protection. I finally found someone who convinced me the power inside me wasn’t evil, that it was strength I could use, strength that would be good for my people. Now all of a sudden you’re making it worse than evil—you’re making it cease to matter.”

She glared at him, letting some of the beast inside her bleed into her eyes. “I am not a delicate flower to be fussed over, kept in a garden protected from the world. I know who you are—I’ve lived parts of your life. And I will say it again…” She leaned closer, putting her face within inches of Saamal’s, his eyes still wide. “You do not scare me.”