53. Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Caelan
I rfan Najjar was a formal man with a stick rammed straight up his asshole and an appreciation for the emperor that bordered on sycophantic. I could not even feign surprise when he and his whole family greeted us at the edge of the Blood Lakes with banners flying and a full complement of soldiers.
At his side was my aunt, Lady Kostantina Hagos. Lady Nahome Obsan sat cast-free on an alwashi beside her. I wondered what Nahome was doing here. Negotiating trade agreements with Najjar, perhaps. Her family’s territory, The Soul, shared a border with the Blood Lakes.
The Corpse of the Father cast a discomforting shadow over the proceedings. Najjar was known for training war mounts and the alwashi his men sat upon were some of the largest I’d seen. But not one of those alwashi was as tall as the clawed foot of the dead god behind them.
Though it looked like the same dragonstone that made up the other corpses that scattered our land, it was said that even the demons and their secret methods had not been able to shatter this statue.
The land was hilly here; crabgrass grew among resilient wildflowers and ivy. The Father’s claws were green with moss and ivy tendrils speckled with blue flowers. Bird nests dirtied the crevasses on his body and small animals skittered out of burrows beneath the stone mountain. His wings killed the grass where they cast their shadow.
This was an ominous place, made no less so by the stone church that had been constructed nearby. Most of it was buried below ground, but a low door opened below a flat roof. Inside, stairs would take pilgrims down, nearer to the Crust where the Father rested. A bell tolled slowly, perhaps to honor our arrival at this most holy place.
I glanced at Raven, but her eyes were squeezed closed. She shuddered as if cold, though the day was very warm and I was sweating. She was sweating, too, I noted. She shook her head a little as I watched, her mouth forming words she didn’t speak out loud.
“Are you alright?” I said quietly. I wanted to lean over and touch her, but I didn’t want to draw any attention.
She heard me and turned to me with wild eyes. “Does it look green to you?” Her voice was raspy, as if she’d been screaming. I wondered if the posture collar was hurting her neck.
“No.”
She nodded, frowning slightly. “That’s what I thought.”
Lord Najjar launched into a welcome speech, which wrapped up with the gemstone of a line: “Rebels beware! As in the wet season, my lands will soon be soaked in blood.” His eyes flashed in pride and pleasure at what he probably perceived as clever word play. Blood Lakes. Soaked in blood. Get it?
I made sure my face was impassive as I opened my mouth for a response. But the man wasn’t done.
“Would you honor us with a demonstration, Prince Caelan? Here at the base of the great Father from whom your power comes?”
Ah. He wanted to see me wield Arbaaz—he wanted his men to see and spread the word.
I didn’t like the idea. I’d only used Arbaaz during a fight twice, both times when lives hung in the balance. It felt distasteful to use such power to put on a show, but then again, what had my father said? Rebellions were all about politics and perception. If I could convince the undecided of the folly of rising against the crown, I would save countless lives.
In fact, if a show was what he wanted, I had an idea.
“Of course, my lord. Baris?”
Baris nodded and drew his scimitar. He gripped its sheath in his other hand. He liked to use it as a staff.
I dug in the bag I’d packed myself. Shoved aside Junaid’s books, which I’d thrown on top. Felt at the bottom for Raven’s daggers.
I couldn’t say why I’d brought them. I felt, for some reason, like they should be wherever she was, though I’d had no inkling that I might return them to her. Her expression was stunned when I spun around and tossed them through the air. Her hands came up automatically to catch them. Her breath caught as the entire crowd gasped.
“Better make a circle, men. She’s not entirely tame.” I called this to the squad of men I’d brought and they dismounted and formed a closed circle around the three of us. Outside the circle, my mother embraced her sister and murmured quiet words to Lord Najjar and Lady Nahome.
I hooked a finger to draw Raven to me. I removed the posture collar and replaced it with the delicate metal ring.
“I want a fair fight,” I whispered in her ear, my face brushing against her neck.
She shivered. In anticipation or pleasure at my touch? I wasn’t sure.
“What are you doing?” she whispered back.
“What do you think?”
“I think this is just one more way of putting me in my place in front of a crowd of your people.”
“Smart girl,” I said. I spun her around and I couldn’t help but grin at the wary look on her face and the prospect of the fight to come. Raven and I spent the last moon-cycle sparring with words and symbolic gestures, throwing our bodies together in play and in bed, but I hadn’t fought her since the day we met. I was surprised by how much I looked forward to it. Nothing held back.
That’s what Raven was for me—a place where I didn’t have to hold back. The realization crashed down around me, words suddenly appearing to describe a sensation that was rapidly becoming familiar and comfortable. Being known. Being seen.
Raven knew about my altaya magic from the start. She embraced my sadism and noticed my kindness. With her, I didn’t have to pretend. With her, I was free.
I cleared my throat to swallow the emotions that rose in me at these thoughts. I didn’t have time for them and besides, they didn’t exactly apply right now. This fight was fake—a performance for the gathered crowd. I must not forget that.
But I couldn’t resist leaning in to whisper in her ear, “You don’t want to be put in your place? Show me what you can do to stop me.”
Her eyes locked on mine. “Are you giving me permission to kill you?”
I grinned. “Permission to try.”
I took up a position in the center of the circle. The men who formed it would protect Najjar and my mother from any daggers Raven might decide to throw. Above me, Arbaaz cawed in readiness.
Raven glanced at Baris and he winked at her, his characteristic cheeriness in his eyes. “Both of us together weigh almost as much as his bird, wouldn’t you say, my lady? This’ll be easy.”
Raven cracked a smile and I didn’t wait. I lunged.
Baris and Raven both fought more like Losians than Vaharilarans, damn them. Blades whirring—three of them and Baris’ sheath against my long scimitar and short dagger. But Arbaaz’ claws counted as blades, too.
I split my mind and dove, high off the challenge of moving both bodies at once. Images flashed before my eyes, overlaying each other. I looked down on the top of Baris’ shaved head as I flew towards him with dizzying speed while I blocked a rapid series of attacks by Raven’s daggers.
Once, I messed up and dropped my own sight. Arbaaz scored a scratch across Baris’ skull before he rolled away but Raven’s dagger managed to slice my calf. The cutting pain pulled me back to my own body and I lost Arbaaz.
I gritted my teeth, realizing how much practice I needed. Cycles of hiding my magic had been a detriment to my training. I was lucky Baris wasn’t really trying to kill me.
Raven? I wasn’t so sure.
She certainly fought like she was. Her eyes were hot with focus and determination as the flush of exertion flooded her cheeks. Her arms slashed through the air at dizzying speed, the dragonstone blades drinking light in a way that metal never did. They were practically invisible extensions of her arms.
All thoughts left my mind except for the fight. I moved without thinking, Arbaaz’ gaze and mine merging into one. I blocked Baris and knocked his sheath from his grasp as I ducked below one of Raven’s attacks and countered with a jab that she stumbled to avoid. It was a reaction I’d anticipated and Arbaaz was ready for it, dive-bombing her with his claws out, forcing her back another step, and then another.
With Arbaaz keeping her out of the fight, Baris took advantage of the new space at my side, twirling like a damned ribbon in the wind until I hit him with a combination that forced him to block several full-strength blows. Gritting his teeth, he managed to roll away.
“Hit a man like that again and he might get angry,” he said as he rose, his tone light enough to assure me he was kidding.
“I’ve never seen you angry,” I said as I swung. Air whipped past me and oh, it felt good to dance.
“You’re just not looking,” Baris answered, and then we were too caught up in our swords to speak.
I drove at Baris with relish. My behemoth blade swept high and low, but Baris’ smaller scimitar was so much faster. He blocked and spun behind me, trying to get his blade against my back. I sent my fist out to knock him away. I made contact but he jumped, danced, rebalanced. He struck out like a viper with the tip of his scimitar, an unusual strategy to use with a curved blade, meant to surprise.
I recovered and he switched to more standard maneuvers, gliding his weapon through the air with precision and strength. “Have I told you the story about my sister’s tagine?”
How could he chat so lightly with all these men watching? “You’ve told them all,” I huffed.
Baris opened his mouth to answer but Arbaaz soared away from Raven to stop him. Baris dodged as I spun behind him. He moved to follow, but Arbaaz was there. Baris turned the other way and found his scimitar kicked from his hand. I grabbed him and threw my arm around his neck, cutting off his breath as my blade settled against his stomach, ready to gut him.
“Yield,” I commanded.
“Damn, Cael. All right, I yield.” The mild tone didn’t fully mask the young man’s surprise. Had I ever eviscerated him so badly before? I couldn’t remember.
I let him go and turned to Raven, a grin splitting my face. My heart was pumping fast as the circle of men around us disappeared from my notice. There was only me and her. No show, no performance. Nothing but our bodies and our blades.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Raven twirled her daggers in her hands, a strange expression on her face.
I sent Arbaaz into a dive as she moved in close. I blocked and parried with my own attack, meant to shift her into his path. She would answer it by ducking and spinning right. She’d done it several times already. After this was over, I’d have to talk to her about how easy she was to predict. Get her training with Baris regularly.
But then she did something that I never expected.
She froze completely.
My blade was whipping towards her neck as her body went rigid. Her daggers halted in their path, her feet skidded to a stop, and her eyes flew somewhere far away and brightened, the green in them pulsing with a glowing life of its own.
It was all I could do to redirect before my blade severed her head from her shoulders. I cried out with effort and stumbled as I disengaged and pulled Arbaaz out of his dive, catching sight of Nahome through the circle of men as I turned. Her eyes, too, glowed brightly, her body unnaturally still.
What the fuck was happening?
I dropped my scimitar and grabbed Raven by the shoulders, but she did not respond. Her hands were still clenched around the hilts of her daggers, her muscles tight instead of loose, like a bowstring pulled taut. I lowered her arms to her sides, disturbed by the statue she’d become.
“Raven, Raven!” I cupped her cheek, worry exploding through my heaving chest.
“Lady Nahome!” I shouted when Raven didn’t answer. “What’s happening?”
But neither Touched could answer me.
Raven was gone.