by Ann Denton
Ein followed her, word for word: “Divine Spirit, split me open. Take what you need. In return, protect me. That no harm may look upon my face.”
When it was done, Mala stretched up and kissed him. A soft grateful kiss, unlike those they’d shared before. A longer kiss, deeper and more passionate. And when she felt sure of herself and her emotions, Mala pulled back slightly and opened her eyes.
“Ein, look at me.”
His hazel eyes were dazed. Until suddenly they wavered. And melted. They turned a brilliant blue. His hair curled and turned black. He shrunk several inches. His biceps ripped his worn grey jumpsuit.
Ges whooped. Alba abandoned her post.
“No mucking way,” Ein stared down at Lowe’s body. He held up his hands, Lowe’s hands, turning them back and forth. He went to the window, staring at his reflection. “You poisoned me. I’m feverish. Delusional. This is not possible.”
Mala smiled. Hope bubbled in her stomach. Ecstasy. It’s real. She couldn’t help herself. She spun around.
She grabbed Ges’s hands. “It worked!” She forced him to spin with her until they collapsed, dizzy on the floor.
As they lay sprawled, Mala asked, “Do you know how amazing this is?”
“Do you mean, how improbable?” Ein was still examining his reflection.
“Since I was four, I thought I was crazy. I thought I was cursed. I don’t know. I’ve just always thought … somewhere in the back of my mind … I’ve always believed. Do you know how good it feels to not be insane?”
Ein snorted, “Do you know how insane it is that this actually worked?”
Mala just grinned at the missing ceiling tiles.
Ges leaned over her. “Ok, I know it probably won’t work. But since it’s possible … me next.”
Alba chimed in. “Me, too.”
Mala grinned and got to her feet. Twice, they tried the ritual. Once, on Ges, nothing happened. When Mala planted a gentle kiss on Alba, the teen melted into a bony blond pre-teen. It appeared the blood sacrifice was essential to the magic. Alba stuck out a tongue at Ein. “Hate you.”
Ein raised an eyebrow. “Really? You wish your sister dead so that you could—”
“Gosh, you don’t have to get so morbidly literal. I’m just insanely jealous that you can melt into anyone you want, that’s all,” Alba rolled her eyes.
Ges cleared his throat. “So to break up this awkwardness, Ein I have a crush on you.”
Silence.
Then laughter.
“As if that hasn’t been obvious since you were eight,” Ein rolled his eyes. “Sorry. Other team.”
Ges smiled, “I know. Just putting it out there. In case we die and all,” he shrugged. “Plus, foot-in-mouth over there really knows how to put a damper on the fact that you’re now our secret weapon.”
“That’s true. I’m kind of indispensable.”
“Do not build his ego,” Alba groaned as she melted back into her adult warrior goddess form. “Mala, please. Tell me the plan involves Ein melting into a dog.”
Ein’s eyes lit up. “We’ve never attempted cross-species—”
“Nope,” Mala replied. “No dogs. But I was thinking about Troe. He sees himself on the throne with me as queen. He’s trading people to get me. Or his son is. He must really want me for something.”
“And we don’t know why. Without knowing why we have no clue what you’re walking into. It could be a trap,” Ein argued.
She swung her gaze to Ein. “Normally, I’d agree. But, like Ges said, now that we have a secret weapon, now that you’re a potential substitute for a king … maybe we should make his dreams come true.”
Alba sighed. “I always thought I’d look good in a crown. But I guess you won’t be too bad either.”
Ges punched her.
Chapter Forty-Six
They sat in a cross-legged circle on the floor of the abandoned conference room. “So, what’s the plan?” Ges asked.
“We can’t do much,” Ein replied. “Lowe still has to think he’s in control.”
“True,” Alba reflected. “But we could totally recon the princes. Figure out which one is the real son. Which one is meeting the Chiara. And any other dirty little secrets they have.”
Mala turned to Alba, impressed. “That’s a great idea.”
Alba shrugged. “You’ve got the hard job. How are you gonna pretend everything’s normal with Lowe?”
Mala sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ve got years of practice to fall back on. When I thought I was crazy … it’s not so different. Pretend to be happy. Normal.”
“Yeah, except this backstabber broke your heart,” Alba stated.
Mala swallowed. She tried to smile, to shake it off. But the truth echoed in her head. He still loves her.
“Alba, maybe you should talk about the job and only the job,” Ges said. “Otherwise you and I need to sit down and have a chat about something called tact.”
Alba stuck her tongue out at him. The distraction gave Mala a minute to recover her composure.
Ein rolled his eyes. “What about me?” he asked.
“Does she love you?” Alba snorted. “If you’d heard half the things she’s said—”
“I meant, what’s the plan for me? Mala falling for me is a given.” Ein stretched his legs across the circle and kicked Mala with a foot. He winked.
Mala rolled her eyes. “Focus, everyone. We only have a couple more minutes before guards hit this floor. I’m sure they’re mounting a full building search after my stunt.” Her eyes studied Ein. He’d easily melted back to himself with a few drops of water. He can’t stay that way. Not with the prince and Stelle looking for him. “We need to get you to melt. Into an Erlender. And fast. Ein needs to disappear right now.”
Ein stared at her. “Well, just kiss me.”
Mala gulped. Ein watched her expectantly. Alba and Ges studied their fingernails, the wall, anything other than Mala’s tomato-red face. She stuttered, “I … I don’t know if I can—”
“It’s all about intentions, remember?”
She shrugged, “I get that intellectually—”
“Are you sure? Do you get anything intellectually?” Ein raised a brow.
Mala leaned across the circle and punched his arm. “I don’t think it’s as easy to control how I feel, particularly right now when my boyfriend just turned traitor—sludge-head.”
“Just try.”
Alba pulled Ges to his feet. “Ges and I are gonna split up prince duties and come up with some kinda rotation for spying on them. Then Mala needs to melt and get her Keptiker-looking butt downstairs. And we need to hide.” They wandered into the hall.
“See I can be tactful,” Alba pointed out.
“First time for everything,” Ges’s retort drifted back through the doorway.
Ein leaned close. “You act like kissing me is a chore.”
“It kinda has been, hasn’t it?”
“I know you’re attracted to me,” he whispered.
“Attraction isn’t enough. I need to feel something unique right? Unfortunately, you’re not the first cute muckhead to be a jerk to me.” Mala retorted.
“I bet I’m the first genius you’ve ever met,” Ein preened.
“Yes. I’m in awe of your ability to come up with evil torture to subject me to. Your creativity knows no bounds.”
Ein gave a grumpy sigh. “Could you at least try to muster up something positive? Your entire plan is predicated on me being able to one day melt into Troe …”
Mala stared at him slowly. And an evil grin of her own spread across her face. “You know, I don’t have unique feelings for you. But someone else here does.”
Ein’s jaw dropped. “You need to at least try—”
Mala cut him off. “Ges, could you come back in here?”
Chapter Forty-Seven
No nerves. No nerves. Don’t reach for your necklace. Don’t touch your neck. It’s your tell. He knows it. Mala, back in Keptiker’s body, slipped into
his assigned guest room. She glanced at the striped candle on the nightstand. Less than an hour until the official presentation of taxes and tributes. Then she’d be back on the road. Supposedly. Unless the handoff was first. But after much discussion, they’d agreed. Lowe was more likely to get rid of her on the road, when Keptiker’s disappearance wouldn’t cause such chaos. People died on the road all the time. It would be easier to explain than a disappearance in Troe’s compound.
You can do this, she tried to pump herself up. He’s only an assassin. She barked out a laugh at the bare room. And I thought I was crazy before.
Her door opened and she turned with a start. Lowe walked in, a six-year-old ball of energy and fluster.
“We have to leave,” the words were out of Lowe’s mouth before he shut the door behind him. His head barely surpassed the doorknob, but the tone of his voice was commanding. “Now.”
“What? Why?” Mala’s adrenaline kicked into high gear. Leave now? But the tribute? The road. I’m supposed to have more time! Improvise, idiot. Improvise.
“We can’t leave this second. It’ll look suspicious.” Mala reached for a blanket, only to have Lowe yank it out of her hands.
“It’s dangerous. Too dangerous. We can’t stay.” He turned to the wall, where their belongings were piled. “Grab some weapons. And let’s go.” There was an edge to his voice, almost a tremor.
Feeling guilty? A tiny bit sad you’re about to trade me? Mala ignored Lowe and kicked off her shoes, sitting on the bed. “We can’t leave. There’s too much chaos right now.” She watched him strap an axe to his back.
“Yeah, I saw. There are exorcisms and crazy things going on in the kitchen. The servants are stringing up amulets like ornaments.”
“They had a picture of Ein. They were gonna kill him. I had to do something so he could get out.”
“He’s gone?” Lowe’s jaw dropped.
Mala nodded. She recited Alba’s advice in her head.
“Half-truths are better than lies. He’s been trained to spy on people. He’s been trained to sniff out lies. Half-truths are harder to identify,” Alba had talked Mala through this moment three times, while Ein had jimmied open an electrical access panel in the wall. It was a thin gap between two adjoining rooms, lined with wires that looked like limp, dead snakes. It was cramped, but the three of them could hide there. They could shuffle sideways from room to room and force their way out through another panel if necessary. And, as Ein had pointed, out, most of the panels had rusted shut.
“I doubt anyone here even knows what the heck this panel’s for. They clearly haven’t had electricity in decades. Haven’t opened it. We’ll be fine.”
Mala hoped he was right. She jerked herself out of her reverie and focused back on Lowe’s shocked expression.
“Ein just left you?”
Mala shrugged, sticking to the script. “We’re out of here in two hours. We just have to stand there for Troe while he does a ceremony—probably some ridiculous blood-letting, rain-dance thing.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?” Lowe strapped a knife to his ankle and dropped his pant leg. He stared at Mala, cocking his head like a bird. Piercing. Inquisitive.
Mala sat up in shock. He knows! He knows I know! No … he doesn’t. Don’t be paranoid. Don’t give it away. “Why would I do that?”
“You need him.”
“We need to complete our mission.” Mala countered and stood.
Lowe’s lips thinned. His fury was obvious. “And what if they have a picture of you too? You just put on a ridiculous demonstration of power. Erlenders are screaming their heads off about the devil, and a spell to end the world. You need protection. Mucking hell! This will leave you … we can’t do this! We need to find him.”
“No we don’t.”
“What if you meltdown? There’s no way to reverse it. Without him you can’t control your melts, Mala! You’re in danger!”
A thought occurred to Mala and she smiled. You want him because without him, I’m useless. A gun without a firing pin. An expensive doorstop. Not a very good trade.
“You’re insane!” Lowe roared.
Mala’s eyes snapped back to Lowe’s. Her hands acted of their own accord. Faster than she could blink, she smacked Lowe across the face and swiveled him into a chokehold.
“I am not crazy,” she whispered. But, a second later, she wasn’t so sure.
His skin shivered beneath her. It undulated in waves. And suddenly, she wasn’t holding a six-year-old. Lowe had melted into his brawny mid-twenties—head still shaved, still sporting a black eye, and still far more lethal than Mala.
It only took another second before Lowe had Mala pinned to the ground, his knee at her throat. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it. I know what those words mean to you …” Lowe paused, gathering his thoughts as he stared across the room. Then he looked down at her. His eyes were so full of tears it looked like the ocean was crashing inside them. “I would never hurt you—”
“Don’t!” Mala snarled. Fire took over her skin. It crackled along her skin and thundered through her brain. Lowe let go of her, stumbling backward, a haunted expression on his face. And Mala knew, without looking, that her hair was a messy red.
She launched herself off the floor and flew at him. She kneed him where it hurt most. Now—even now, when you’re about to sell me to men who’d skin me alive—you’re thinking about her?
“You’d never hurt me? But trading is okay? Selling me?” She dug her nails into his throat until she drew blood.
Lowe’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to retort, but she placed a freckled hand over it, muffling any excuses. He didn’t block as she reared back her arm and punched his temple. She was shocked when he slumped to the floor.
“Father-mucking-sludge!” She checked his pulse. He was still alive. Now what? I just ruined the plan. Just ruined it. Ruiner. But the anger and adrenaline pumping through her system wouldn’t let her regret her choice. He deserved it. Mud-breathing traitor.
She grabbed a pitcher and emptied it over her head, unable to stand being in Stelle’s skin another second. Damnit. Think. He’s alive. Strip the weapons. She removed his weapons and went to the window. Mala used his knife to cut the pull strings from the industrial blinds. She used the strings to bind his hands and feet.
The adrenaline started to make her shake. So she paced, deciding on her next move. Do I kill him? But he was working with Tier. Tier made the deal. Tier sold me out. But Tier runs the Kreis. I kill him, I’m killing a Senebal soldier. It’s an act of war. No turning back. But would they kill me at this point anyway? Not if I can go through with the trade. I want to go through with the trade. That was the plan. If we can take over the Erlenders and put Ein in as a false king, we can end the war … but without his handoff … Damn it. Maybe I should have stayed in that witch’s body.
Lowe started to stir. Mala kicked his head. He stilled.
Troe wants a queen. The Chiara told him she had a candidate. Mucking hell. Forget this. Mala ripped open the door and stomped down the hall, a brown-haired mess in men’s oversized clothing. Why make a plan when I’ll just muck it up? I’ll just make this up as I go.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Mala marched down to the first floor, ignoring the stares sent her way. She pushed through the double doors that led to the receiving area, where Troe met with his petitioners.
She wove through the maze created by cubicle walls and clusters of guards that blocked any view of the throne. Mala by passed the line of starving Erlenders respectfully waiting their turn to plead their case for grain or sheep or shoes. No one stopped her.
Either I look intimidating, or I look like I’m reporting back after an attack. She grimaced at her own appearance. Definitely an attack.
Mala dodged around a family with unruly toddlers. This not planning thing is working out—
A hand closed around her neck. An Erlender soldier, with pockmarked cheeks, a
crooked nose, and a friendly smile stared at her. “Hey there—in a rush, darlin’?”
Mala met his eyes. They belied the friendly smile. They were so brown they were almost black, and they were as hard as stone. Behind her, she heard one of the toddlers cry.
“I don’t talk to the help,” she scoffed.
His smile widened. “Seems ya’ jus’ did.” He let his fingers contract further around her neck. He lifted her, choking her. “Now, why you rushin’ through here when all these good folks done waited their turn?”
Once he let her breathe, she gasped out her retort. “I’m special.”
“And they’re not?”
“Not like me.” Mala gave him her most condescending look.
“You’re better ‘n them, then? How’s that?”
“I’m a Senebal.”
The guard dropped her. Mala latched onto his arms as she fell. He reached for a weapon. She wrapped her arms tight as a vice around him, so he couldn’t lift his gun. She held his gaze as he tried to shake her off. She saw the flicker of surprise, of doubt, then anger. Anger turned into fury.
I can work with that, Mala thought as her stomach exploded in heat. Fire trailed up her limbs and danced over her eyelids. She melted down into a brawny beast of a man. The new body shredded even Keptiker’s uniform. She slowly loosened her hold on the guard, who quaked in fear.
“I forgot to mention, I’m also a demon,” Mala whispered in his ear. She heard a splattering sound. A smell wafted toward her. He’d pissed himself.
Mala grabbed his gun and shook her head, clucking her tongue at him. “I’m disappointed. I thought you were braver than that.”
She gazed at him, then at everyone in the nearby vicinity. “You will be silent,” her baritone boomed down the hall. One of the toddlers cried again, cringing against his mother as he stared at her. Mala had to fight her instinctive need to comfort him. She needed these people afraid. She needed to remain untouchable. She needed to get to Troe.
