Beautiful Salvation (3 page)

“You have nothing to offer.” Kirill muttered something that sounded like “Poor planning” under his breath.

“I will guard you while you are on the astral plane,” Etienne volunteered.

The werewolf prince stood with his arms crossed, the stance lacking the grace it would have had if the muscle of his chest wasn’t quite so thick. The prince of Sanguenay eyed Saamal as if trying to see inside him, trying to see what was truly behind his desire to wake Aiyana. His offer indicated he was giving the god the benefit of the doubt.

“Your offer is generous, and much appreciated, Etienne.” The skin around Saamal’s eyes tightened. “Unfortunately, my enemies… I wouldn’t want to put you in their path. Immortals—”

“Do you know what my experience has been with immortals?” The lycanthrope’s golden eyes flashed and he bared his teeth in a feral mockery of a grin. “It always comes as a great shock to them when they get bit.”

Kirill snorted and rolled his eyes. Adonis barked out a laugh, and even Patricio seemed to be fighting not to smile. Saamal appeared to be the only one who found no amusement in Etienne’s confidence.

“Accept his offer of help, Saamal,” she begged earnestly. “For over a century you’ve tried to do this on your own, but you are alone no longer. Let your new friends aid you.”

Kirill’s eyebrow twitched at her use of the word “friends,” but he didn’t speak. Eurydice didn’t miss the contemplative glint in his eyes and she wondered exactly how much of an influence the vampire’s enigmatic wife had managed to have on him.

“Very well.” Saamal bowed to Etienne. “I graciously accept your help.”

Some of the weight she’d been carrying slid off of Eurydice’s shoulders, but something about the darkness in Saamal’s eyes kept her relief from being all consuming.
Have a little faith, my god prince. I need you to have a little faith.

“Defend yourself and your land.”

The voice came from Aiyana’s throat, rattled her vocal cords, but it wasn’t her voice. The deep booming tones echoed into the night, carrying a weight no human voice could ever manage. A god’s voice.

She stood at a crossroads, facing a young man, no older than eighteen. His dark hair hung in braids to his chest, and the skin showing around the cut of his summer tunic showed no scars or lines, nothing to mark him as a warrior. He noticed her standing in the crossroads and the blood drained from his face, leaving his copper skin pale in the moonlight. His lips parted as Aiyana stepped into the road in front of him.

She was larger than she should have been, large enough to completely block the youth’s path. She glanced down and it wasn’t her body. It was a man’s, dressed in full battle regalia, her skin painted with streaks of
 
jade and tar, her arms and shins adorned with gold plated sheaths. A wickedly sharp spear was clutched in her right hand and her heart skipped a beat as the arm that came from her strange new body threw the weapon at the boy’s feet.

Aiyana closed her eyes, but nothing she did could stop the images. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the boy set his mouth in a firm line, put down his pack and picked up the spear. The fight was over in a miserably short time, the youth obviously no match for a grown man, let alone a god.

Blood. Gore. Intestines spilling to the dirt road as the boy’s body fell to its knees, the eyes empty of life. The sickly sweet copper scent mixed with the unmistakable odor of death filled her senses, warmed her skin as it flooded over her hands. She shook her head until her teeth rattled, but the nightmare remained. The youth’s corpse toppled over to the ground and she averted her eyes as it hit the dirt. Left it in the road to feed the scavengers. An offering to the predators of the night.

“No!”

Aiyana shot up off the bed, her pulse thundering in her ears, drowning her in a cacophony of sound. She drew a hand across her forehead, the sweat feeling all too much like blood. She gaped down at her glistening hand and for a moment her nightmare laid its grisly images over reality.

Aiyana threw back her silken coverlet and leapt off the bed, her body thrumming with a wild, disturbing song of energy. She paced around the room, quick, rapid steps. She shook her hands, trying to rid herself of the alarming tingle of power, the ache in her fingertips. Her chest rose and fell with each breath and she closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing, tuning out the chaos.

Bit by bit, the nightmare evaporated and when she opened her eyes she could finally see her room, see the opulence that was so out of place after the carnage she’d witnessed. The golden silk of her curtain shone like polished treasure in the light of the wall sconces, casting deep shadows on her bed. The elaborate chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center of the room, more gold glowing at her as if the sun itself had been set in her bedroom. Paintings full of rich, vibrant colors hung on her walls, depicting the White God in the midst of some of his most remembered acts of mercy and justice. The sight of the White God failed to inspire her, to comfort her. His brother the Black God was still too fresh in her mind. Not just in her mind…

Aiyana groped for her robe that lay draped across the settee beside her bed. The rose-colored silk was a pale accent against the deep crimson of the cushion. She snatched up her robe and quickly slipped it on as she rushed to the door of her chambers. She flung the door open.

“Your Majesty, are you all right?”

Aiyana stopped short as she nearly ran into the guard posted outside her door. The worn leather of his boots barely made a sound as he faced her, the overlapping bones of his breastplate sliding against his thick leather tunic. He clutched his spear in his hand, the sharp obsidian point humming with quiet magic. The spears were from a time long ago, a time when they’d worshipped the Black God. The legend said the Black God had blessed the spears, that wounds inflicted on an enemy with the jagged points would require magic to stop the bleeding. Aiyana shoved that thought from her mind, unable to bear it after her nightmares. The nightmares that reminded her the Black God’s legacy was not limited to their weapons.

For a moment, Aiyana couldn’t tear her eyes from the bone breastplate. The nightmare ate at the edges of her consciousness, her opponent’s bones sticking out like macabre porcupine quills, shining bright white in the moonlight where the sharpened ends stuck out through the blood and gore. The bones on the guard’s breastplate were small—animal bones. Just animal bones.

“Your Majesty?”

With no small effort, Aiyana refocused her attention from the guard’s armor to his eyes. His brown eyes shone with concern even as his grip on his spear tightened and he peered behind her as if searching for an enemy. The guard on the other side of the door stiffened and gripped his own weapon. Aiyana didn’t miss the way the second guard’s spear twitched in her direction, his lips tightening into a thin line even as he tried not to stare at her. That one was afraid of her.

As well he should be
, Aiyana thought miserably.

Forcing a peaceful calm to her face, Aiyana clasped her hands in front of her to hide their trembling. She stood tall, composing herself and offering the guards the most serene expression she could manage.

“I’m fine. I was simply going to get a glass of water.”

“Please, Your Majesty, allow me.”

“No, please, I want to—”

“Chayton, guard the princess, I’ll return shortly.”

The other guard stood to attention, his hands tightening on his spear even as he lowered it. Aiyana inclined her head once, acknowledging his attention, then stepped back into her room. She closed the door as gently as she could manage, then pressed her forehead against the cool wood. Fisting her hands in frustration, she waited for the guard to arrive with her water. She’d needed the walk, needed to get out of her chambers where the nightmare was too fresh. The gods take it, she was an adult, not a child. She could get her own water!

For a moment, she wanted to force her way out. She was the princess, she could command them to let her get her own water. Of course, then they’d follow her. Like guard dogs. And they’d likely tell the king and queen in the morning. That would mean another safety lecture.

But safety for whom? Me or them?

Power sparked to life in her blood, responding to her emotions. The adrenaline slid through her veins like a thick poison, awakening her nerve endings and making her skin tingle. She glared at the door. How dare they seek to keep her imprisoned in her own room, locked up under the pretense of keeping her ‘safe?’ She was no weakling, no vulnerable fawn to be hidden away—and well they knew it. An ache grew along the bones of her fingers, followed by the increasingly familiar prick of claws growing where her flat human fingernails had been. The small sharp crescents of white clicked against the door where her hand was pressed flat to the slick, polished surface. A jaguar’s claws—the Black God’s favored animal. Perhaps it was time she let them see what she was really capable of, let them see the raw power that was hers to command. They already thought her a monster, what was the sense of hiding it anymore? Blood would flow…

“Your Majesty, I have your water.”

The guard’s voice drew Aiyana’s attention and she stared at the door as if she could see through it. His companion was no doubt still gripping his precious spear, itching to drive the carved obsidian point into her flesh. He would be the first to suffer.

The sound of grooves being dug through wood pulled Aiyana from her musing, and she gaped in dismay at the deep slashes she’d carved in the door with her claws. Wood peelings drifted to the floor. She raised her hands to find the claws were gone, vanished as if they’d been one more nightmare. Only the damaged door bearing testament to their reality.

Aiyana yanked the door open, giving the guards a smile and not caring if it appeared as false as it felt. Her lips hurt to be pulled into the unnatural expression and she snatched the glass of water from the guard’s hand. His companion twitched, the point of his spear rising ever so slightly, and Aiyana spat out a quick thank you to the guard who’d brought her the water then shut herself back in her room, ignoring the twin expressions of concern on the guards’ faces.

She half-slammed the glass down on her bedside table. The loud noise echoed in the room and she tensed.

“Your Majesty, are you all right in there?” one of the guards called out hesitantly.

“I’m fine.” Aiyana tried to keep the heat of irritation from her voice. “I’m going back to sleep now.”

She listened for a moment, but the guards seemed to accept her word. Aiyana wrinkled her nose in disgust and strode over to her wardrobe. She shoved aside the rich Dacian silk dresses and the sinfully rich satin wraps from Nysa. At the end of the wardrobe was the cloak she was searching for, the thick deerskin worked until it was as soft and supple as any manufactured cloth, absent of any ornamentation or fancy beadwork. She slid it over her robe and fastened it to hide the nature of her garments underneath. Suitably covered, at least as far as appearances went, she made a beeline for the far southeast corner of her bedroom.

A golden sconce set into the wall held an unlit candle. Aiyana closed her hand around the cool metal and pulled, releasing the catch that held the door to the secret passageway closed. The stone grated against the floor and she tensed, holding her breath as she listened for any indication that the guards had heard the noise. After several minutes of silence, she let out her breath and slipped into the passageway, closing the door behind her as gently as she could.

The passageway was pitch black, but Aiyana knew the way. She trailed a hand along the sleek carved stone wall, counting her paces and feeling carefully for the shallow staircase. The darkness calmed her, helped her to clear her mind. By the time she’d emerged from the passageway out into the gardens, her hands were no longer shaking and she could breathe evenly again.

The smell of roses perfumed the night air and Aiyana savored the light scent. The full moon lit the gardens with a silvery glow and she couldn’t help but smile as she wound her way into the maze of hedges that formed a simple labyrinth of flowers and towering ceiba trees. She trailed a finger over the velvety rose petals blossoming from the midst of the carefully carved bushes on either side of her as she passed.