Beautiful Salvation (5 page)

Thump…thump…thump.

The roses in her mind shifted into drops of blood.

“Hungry.”

The thought wasn’t hers, didn’t come from inside her head.

Thumpthumpthump.

Aiyana’s eyes flew open and for a split second, she saw a dying land. The labyrinth of rosebushes were gnarled briars, brown and brittle, thorns sticking out like jagged teeth. They rolled around the land in a mockery of the neatly trimmed hedges that had once been there, balls of thorny branches knotted where the beautiful roses had once been. The rich black soil had withered to dirt so dry that the lightest breeze sent giant clouds of dust rising into the air like sickly dragons, rolling outward to choke anyone who dared to breathe too deeply. Even the beautiful azure sky had given up its healthy color, faded to a misty grey.

“Feed me.”

The land rumbled like the stomach of a ravenous beast and the tiny wound on Aiyana’s finger where she’d pricked herself on the thorns throbbed in time with the deep, craggy voice echoing in her head. She blinked, realizing that at some point she’d held out her finger, letting a fresh swell of blood drip down to the waiting ground below.

“More.”

Aiyana snatched her hand back, eyes wide. She blinked and the image in front of her wavered and shattered, showing her the land as it had always been once again. This time, though, the roses held no beauty, the earth did not smell so sweet. She could not rid herself of the foreboding image of the earth starving, couldn’t push that voice from her mind. The land wanted blood. It was hungry, needed more than a few drops.

Nightmares came back to her, filling her mind’s eye with bloody sacrifices, hearts being ripped from the flesh of young men. Blood and flesh offered to the land. Chanting…

“Aiyana, what is wrong?”

Aiyana nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around and pressing her body back against the wall beside the window. Her wide eyes scanned her bedroom, probing the shadows. Movement in her peripheral vision snared her attention and she almost collapsed in relief as she recognized her intruder.

“Mother.”

The queen stood near one of the bed posts, her nightgown blending with the silken curtains hanging down from Aiyana’s bed. Her face was creased with worry, still slack from the sleep she’d no doubt been roused from. Brown eyes looked almost black in the shadows of the bedroom, but Aiyana imagined she could still see the disappointment there.

“Chayton was worried about you.” Her mother stepped around the bed, not approaching Aiyana, but standing in her full view now. “He says you seemed…unnerved.”

“You mean I scared him.” Aiyana didn’t bother to hide her disgust, her anger. “I frightened the guard who’s supposed to be protecting our people from me.”

“Aiyana, that’s not funny.”

Her mother took another step forward, letting the moonlight shining in the window bathe her face. The pain in her eyes stabbed at Aiyana and she looked away, crossing her arms as if she could protect herself from her mother’s worry.

“The guards are there to protect you. You are the princess, you are--”

“They are here to keep my secret.” Aiyana’s voice was soft as she interrupted her mother. She didn’t want to upset her, but nor did she want to continue pretending. The time for pretending was over the night she’d woken from a particularly terrifying nightmare to discover she’d shredded her bed, her wicked pearlescent claws still covered in bits of silk and cotton. All pretense had died when her mother had found her like that, when Aiyana had looked into her mother’s face and seen not surprise, but resignation.

“The Black God put his influence inside of you, Aiyana, but you were only a baby. It was not your fault and there’s no reason the people should be made aware of just how much influence the Black God’s blessing has been.”

The queen sat on the bed, patting the spot next to her. Aiyana ignored the invitation. She wasn’t in the mood to be coddled during this conversation. It hurt to look at her mother, so she turned her attention out the window.

“The dreams are getting worse.” She said it quietly, as if speaking the words too loudly would give them power somehow, make the nightmares a reality. She let them hang in the air, part of her praying her mother would speak up, would give her the meaningless reassurances that mothers were supposed to give their children.

“Aiyana, you must keep fighting. No one can know about your dreams, no one can know about the horrible urges the Black God planted inside you. Fight it, keep it locked away. Blood and death lie down that path. You must choose life for you and your people.”

Okomi’s voice rose to join her mother’s.
“There is a powerful fairy that lives at the lake not far from Your Highness’ castle. She is a powerful creature of nature, and she has the power to cut the darkness from a human, to help that human’s energies to grow in more positive, beautiful ways, exactly as she would for a plant.”

Aiyana blinked and stared out over the land. Off in the distance, she could make out the great walls that surrounded the expansive castle grounds, protecting the villagers from the dangers that lurked in the thick forests beyond.

That’s where the fairy would be.

The treacherous voice hummed in Aiyana’s ear and she peered harder at the trees as if she would suddenly see through them to whatever magical creature lived there beside the lake Okomi had spoken of. What would the fairy be like? Surely there were good fairies. The
balam
were good, perhaps the fairy Okomi had spoken of was one of them?

“I will always choose life for my people.” Aiyana met her mother’s eyes, forcing a smile to her face. “Thank you, Mother. I think I’ll go to sleep now.”

A line appeared between her mother’s brows and on either side of her mouth. “Aiyana, you must not sneak out anymore.” She gestured toward the secret passage. “I’ll have that sealed if I have to. You cannot take any chances.”

You can’t take any chances that you’ll hurt our people, let out our dark secret,
Aiyana finished for her in her mind. Her smile grew brittle, but she held onto it anyway. “Yes, Mother.”

The queen stood, clasping her hands in front of her. “Aiyana, I love you. More than you could ever know. I wish I had been able to protect you from this.”

Tears sprang out of nowhere, burning behind Aiyana’s eyes. She blinked to keep them away. “I know. I love you too.”

Aiyana waited until the door closed behind her mother, then she rushed across the room to bolt it closed.

“I am hungry. Feed me, Aiyana. Flesh and blood.”

The voice, the same ancient, grating voice, spoke to her. It seemed to come from inside her head, a presence she couldn’t escape. Her mother was right, she was a threat. She had to do whatever she could to help her people, to choose life for her kingdom. There was only one thing to do.

Mind made up, Aiyana whirled around and raced for the heavy carved wooden trunk that rested at the foot of her bed. She fumbled the latches open and flung the lid back. She pulled out a simple leather bag, beautifully embroidered with colored beads. With shaking hands, she packed a few essentials and then returned to the secret passage still standing open.

Better to face a fairy than live with the monster in the mirror.

“Gentlemen, welcome to the
Kingdom
of
Mu
.”

Saamal raised his arms, gesturing at the land around him. It was a mockery of pride, the gesture rendered ridiculous by the dead sand-colored grass and the ominous ashen sky. The castle in front of them was nearly swallowed up by monstrous briar brushes, branches thicker than a human being reaching up like the tentacles of some great sea monster to wrap around the stone walls, curling around even the tallest towers until it looked like the entire structure was being swallowed by a spiny wooden
kraken
. Dust wafted into the air with every breeze, the wind carrying the sickly sweet scent of decay and dead plants.

As it always did, the sight of his own land twisted Saamal’s heart in his chest, a vicious tugging that only came from guilt. He had allowed his land to waste away—his choices had brought it to this. Maybe if he had stayed even after he gave up so much of his power, maybe if he hadn’t spent so much time searching for temporary power, for a way to protect himself from his enemies, perhaps… He put a hand to his heart, pressing against the rough fabric of his tunic in a vain attempt to ease the pressure.

“It’s a very large kingdom.” Adonis’s voice held that light edge of attempted comfort, but it was overwhelmed by the acknowledgment that the situation was beyond a silver lining. The demon ran a hand through his mop of brown hair, eyes flickering over the overgrown brush trying to consume the castle. “I—”

“What have you done to it?” Etienne shifted on his feet, eyes flickering from brown to gold as if even the beast inside him were uncomfortable standing in the dead kingdom. A wrinkle of disgust teased his nose and a severe line between his eyes condemned Saamal for allowing such a fate to befall his kingdom.

Saamal tensed, but offered no defense. What defense was there to offer? The evidence of his failure was all around them.

“Etienne, a little tact? Honestly, and you were raised as a prince.”

“Yes, I was, Adonis, and that’s why I know that it’s the responsibility of the king to see that his land is protected, nurtured.” Anger warmed Etienne’s voice as he faced Saamal. “This—”

“Exactly, it’s the king’s job.” Adonis put himself between Etienne and Saamal. Even without his horns and wings, the demon was a few inches taller than Etienne, and he drew himself up to his full height as he stared hard at the werewolf. “Saamal is the prince, not the king, Etienne.”

It had been a long time since Saamal had even considered explaining himself to anyone, had even needed to explain the way his kingdom worked. He could hardly fault Adonis for not knowing. After all, he did not come from a kingdom that had been created with flesh and blood. He did not know how closely Saamal was tied to this land.

“Adonis, your defense is appreciated, but unfortunately undeserved.” Saamal pivoted slowly in a semi circle, forcing himself to face his once thriving land, to see the ruin that had come to it, feel it. The dull ache in the back of his head that never went away, grew in intensity. “I am the prince of this land by virtue of betrothal to the king’s daughter.” He lowered his voice. “By blood, I am the king.”

“You’re what?” Etienne and Adonis spoke in unison.

Saamal smiled, though the sentiment did not reflect his heart. “I am the supreme ruler of this kingdom, tied to the land by flesh, blood, and magic. I created this world. Every king who wishes to rule, shares his blood with me, and I with him. At the coronation ritual, the king spills his blood onto the land as an offering, a binding. He ties himself to the land that he claims rulership over so that he may prosper only as the land prospers, and he will suffer as the land suffers. It is our agreement, our bond, that allows the land to thrive.”

Both Etienne and Adonis glanced around as they listened to the last part, and a bitter laugh escaped Saamal. “What you see around you is a result of my own foolishness. After I gave the
balam
half my power to curb the curse laid on my future bride, it put my Aiyana into a deep sleep that we did not know when she would wake from. The
balam
worried that Aiyana would be distressed to wake with no one she knew around her, whether because those she’d known had aged to a point she did not recognize them, or because they had died and been replaced. I was foolish, led by the
balam
into thinking of the individual instead of the whole for the first time in my existence. I allowed her to put the rest of the castle to sleep, so that they might wake at the same time Aiyana wakes.”