Chapter 18 #2
Something dripped to the floor, so Azul looked up; her sister remained levitating, her lips moving too fast to comprehend. Azul called out to her, hoping to ground her, to stop the invocation. And then, to her horror, her sister’s body snapped backwards. Spine bending with a sharp crunch.
Host!
"Methuselah was different." Enoch’s voice snapped her out of her memories.
Azul’s eyes flickered up; she was panting, her back coated in cold sweat.
She looked around her.
She was warm.
This place was real.
“Khatun?” Enoch called.
Azul looked back at him, her heart hammering so hard it deafened her. "Methuselah?" she asked; her voice was hoarse. Her ears were ringing.
"He had no god.”
She blinked, trying to stop the haziness of her vision. Slowly, her mind stopped swimming, and her heart settled. But she found herself unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched. "No god," Azul repeated. "But he was the King of Kings. How can that be?”
Enoch was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "The old texts are fragmentary, but the pattern is clear. Methuselah didn't channel a god's power. Every other king in history has been a vessel, a tool, a servant of the divine. Methuselah was..." He trailed off, searching for words.
"What?"
"Equal." Enoch met her eyes. "He stood before the gods as an equal. He spoke to Titans, and they listened. He raised them from their sleep, and they obeyed. It wouldn’t surprise me if, instead of death, he ascended into godhood."
Azul’s throat felt dry; gulping didn’t help.
Host, we should leave.
Azul ignored the snake's plea; she needed to hear more.
"Scripture suggests that every royal line that can trace itself back far enough—every family that produces true kings—descends from someone Methuselah elevated."
Azul tried to find words but was rendered unable to speak. She blinked, shaking her head slightly. "These new kings…are they seeking to channel gods or to equal them?" she asked.
If you keep listening, you will overexert your soul.
“Khatun? What do you mean?”
Azul stopped talking, sealing her lips.
"I apologise,” she whispered. “I seem not to be in my right mind. If you don’t mind, I must return.” She stood, and her head swam. Her feet stumbled, and she nearly fell.
Azul's head swam, the world tilting dangerously as her vision blurred at the edges. She reached for the shelf to steady herself, but her fingers scraped against empty air—
A hand caught her arm.
"Careful, Akwaugo." The voice was sweet as honey and familiar; it made her blood run cold. "You seem unwell."
Somadina.
Azul's heart seized. She looked up into those handsome features and that charming smile that never reached his eyes.
"I'm fine." The words barely came. She tried to pull her arm free, but his grip tightened, fingers pressing into her flesh like brands. "Let me go."
"You're shaking." His eyes travelled over her face, noting the pallor beneath her skin and the sweat beading at her temples. "And you can barely stand. What kind of man would I be if I let a woman in such a state wander alone?"
"Enoch—" Azul started, turning toward where the young scholar still stood.
Somadina's gaze flicked to the boy, and his smile widened. "Ah, Uncle. Still buried in your scrolls, I see. Don't let me interrupt your studies." His tone carried a clear message—stay out of this.
Enoch took a step forwards anyway. "Okpalaeze, the Khatun came to research for the Great Khan. Perhaps I should escort her back to—"
"The Great Khan." Somadina's laugh was amused.
"How quickly she wraps powerful men around her finger.
First my brother, now a warlord. Truly, your talents are remarkable, Akwaugo.
" His grip shifted, moving from her arm to her waist, pulling her against his side.
"But she's clearly in no state to walk. I'll see her to somewhere she can rest."
"The rest quarters are—" Enoch tried.
"Are where?" Somadina cut him off, his voice dropping to something cold and sharp. "Public quarters? With no proper attendants, no comforts befitting a future Khatun? No, Uncle. She'll rest in my chambers. I have everything she needs."
Azul's heart hammered against her ribs. She tried to summon words—any words—that might extricate her from this nightmare.
But her mind was fogged, her tongue thick, and her body refused to obey, betraying her.
The earlier vision of Kamsi had drained something vital from her, leaving her hollow and shaking.
All that was left was impulse—the impulse to remain in his arms, the dead girl's residual pull toward him.
"Come, Akwaugo." Somadina began walking, half-carrying her toward the library's exit. "Let's get you somewhere comfortable."
Around them, scholars and nobles watched with varying expressions—curiosity, disapproval, hunger for gossip. No one intervened. No one would. She was a purchased girl, a temporary princess, soon to leave with a foreign warlord. What was she to them but a whore?
Host, should I—
Stop! she screamed. Do not move. You must not reveal your lethality.
The creature hissed, unhappy. But host—
If you are found, he might kill you, and I won't have you anymore. Please. She gulped. Please, be patient.
The little snake said nothing more, its head resting on her shoulder, watching Somadina closely.
The courtyard outside blazed with afternoon sun. Azul blinked against the brightness, trying to focus, trying to think. Her legs dragged, guided by Somadina's relentless grip. They passed through gates, down paths, deeper into the palace, away from her shrine.
"Akwaugo," Somadina slurred, his breath warm against her ear, "I've been thinking about you." His fingers traced her waist. "It's a shame you'll be married to that barbarian."
Don't react. She pleaded with herself. Don't you dare.
"I wondered if we misjudged each other. If given time, you might come to see me differently. I did not mean to be so eager for your first night." He sighed, almost regretful. "But then you attached yourself to that barbarian, and I realised—you're not capable of seeing clearly. You need guidance."
The path narrowed, trees closing in on either side. His compound was near—she could see the carved doors ahead, flanked by guards who straightened at their approach.
"Okpalaeze!"
Relief flooded through her.
Somadina stopped. His grip on Azul's waist tightened, then relaxed as he turned, a smile sliding into place.
The entourage approaching were unmistakably Valthorne; their boots gave them away. Hard men in leather and fur, weapons visible. At their centre, with a servant holding up a large shade, stood Ragnar.
The Great Khan's eyes found Azul immediately. His mask hid any expression he might’ve had.
"Okpalaeze." His words remained utterly devoid of threat. "I was just coming to find my betrothed. The library said she'd left some time ago."
Azul let her eyes close, exhaling. There was no way this was mere coincidence; it seemed someone had run to call her betrothed.
"Great Khan." Somadina bowed slightly, not releasing Azul. "I found her in a state. I'm taking her to my chambers to rest until a physician can see her."
"How fortunate you were there." Ragnar walked toward them, boots silent on the packed earth. "I'll take her now."
"No need to trouble yourself, Khan. My compound is just there—"
"I said I'll take her."
Somadina's smile tightened. "Surely you don't think I'd harm my own sister?"
Ragnar stopped before them. His dark eyes moved from Azul's face to Somadina's arm around her waist.
"My patience is not extensive," he said quietly. "My Khatun is pale as death and shaking like a leaf in your grip. The more you resist giving her to me, the more I suspect you have harmed her."
In that moment, Azul felt a chill.
In the blazing sun, the air had turned as cold as the mountains of the north.
“Okpalaeze.” Ragnar’s voice was low, so low that Azul could feel a slight tremble in Somadina’s arm. Too small to see, but significant enough for her to feel.
A pressure settled on them, and Somadina’s body tensed, struggling to remain on his feet.
Azul looked up; Ragnar was looking at her, watching her, asking her.
Are you alright?
She wasn’t sure. Her body was hot, her mind was murky; it was as though she was surrounded by fog, all sensation muted. The trigger was something she couldn’t fully grasp; was it her memory? Was she poisoned? Was it truly talks of Methuselah? She didn’t know.
Somadina laughed, as though fear hadn’t seeped into his very bones. "Great Khan, I was merely being helpful." He released Azul, stepping back with hands raised in mock surrender. "Take her. I hope she recovers quickly."
Ragnar caught Azul as her knees buckled, lifting her naturally into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, face pressed against the leather of his tunic.
He nodded to Somadina, not bothering to thank him as decorum demanded, and he turned to leave.
Behind them, Somadina's smile didn't waver, but his eyes—his eyes were flat and cold and murderous.
"Khan," he called as Ragnar turned to leave. "A word of advice? My brother Borji has taken quite an interest in the Khatun.”
Azul’s heart staggered, fear coursing through her. Ragnar couldn’t doubt her now. Her plan had been working so far.
Ragnar didn't stop walking.
"So has my uncle. So many men eager to help a pretty woman. You'll have to watch her carefully."
She cursed Somadina viciously in her head. No man wanted to wear a green hat; Somadina accusing her of being unfaithful would anger anyone, much less a warlord.
Ragnar paused.
Azul watched helplessly as he turned to look at Somadina.
"Many can admire," he said, "but few have the skill to claim."
He said nothing more and nothing less, leaving the prince with a serene expression and a fist clenched so tight his knuckles blanched.