Blood and Betrayal

by S. K. Sayari

  “My whole body is aching, but I feel better. But I worry that I won’t be able to fly for a long time, looking at the state of my arms,” he added quietly.

  “Just take the time you need to heal. Forcing yourself to get better will only hurt you in the long run. You can stay here as long as you need.” It was Faustus’s villa, but Remalt knew his friend’s generosity knew no bounds.

  “I should be on my way as quickly as possible. My family must be really worried.”

  Remalt tried to hide his surprise at the fact that this man had a family. Not that it was unlikely; he just hadn’t thought about it. Images of someone else holding Sitri in their arms flashed before Remalt’s eyes, and a rush of emotions—sadness, anger, and jealousy—stalled his response momentarily.

  “They must indeed be worried,” he said. “Perhaps you can write them a letter? I’ll send a slave out to deliver it.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  “Of course. My duty as a senator is to take care of all the children of the Eternal Chaos.”

  The demon began to chuckle. As the chuckle turned into a wholehearted laugh, he had to clutch his wounded side.

  Remalt’s eyes swept over Sitri in confusion. “What?”

  “Forgive me, Senator, that was really impolite of me, but I’m sure you’re aware of what kind of reputation your kind—wizards—have?” Sitri calmed himself. “I don’t want to imply anything about you personally, but all we hear about is how entitled and arrogant wizards are. It made your statement sound rather…bizarre. Apologies.”

  “Wizards are the strongest magic-wielders,” Remalt explained. “Chaos blessed us with the power to wield magic outside ourselves. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but all we want to do is protect you. Letting non-wizards rule alongside us in the council would be like letting a child be the head of the household—a disaster waiting to happen.”

  Sitri looked away. “Of course. I understand.” He went back to studying his arms, caressing himself lightly.

  “You don’t agree?” Remalt asked with an amused smile. The demon shook his head. “That’s fine. Most people don’t,” Remalt reassured him. He stood up. “I’ll find some parchment, a pen, and some ink so you can write that letter.”

  A couple of minutes later Remalt returned to the bedroom, carrying writing equipment. Sitri’s face lit up as Remalt put everything down on his lap. The demon studied the materials, then looked a little disappointed. “Do you have a board or anything I can put the parchment on? It’s not that easy to write on a soft surface.”

  Remalt slowly turned around but spotted nothing useful nearby. His eyes landed back on the demon, who sat with a hopeful expression. A moment of silence gave Remalt an idea.

  “Here,” he said as he sat down on the bed. “You can use my back.”

  “I… Are you sure?” Sitri stuttered.

  Remalt turned his head to the side to get a glimpse of the man behind him. “Is the letter going to be very long?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then why would it be a problem?”

  Though Sitri was obviously reluctant, he eventually laid the parchment against Remalt’s back. However, the demon never started writing.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Your hair…is a little bit in the way,” Sitri admitted, before clearing his throat.

  “Oh.” Remalt grabbed the braids on top of his head, tearing the wig off to reveal his short, black hair. “I sometimes forget I’m wearing it. Is this better?”

  “Yes, thank you, Senator,” Sitri said as he pressed pen to parchment.

  Remalt could feel the other man holding the parchment steady against his body, and the smooth movement of the pen against his back. Silence ensued once again, but Remalt searched his mind frantically for something to talk about. What would he have in common with a demon? No, that was the wrong way to go about it. What would he have in common with this specific demon?

  “Sitri?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What were you doing when that wizard shot you?”

  “Nothing that warranted an attack.” Sitri stopped writing for a moment. “I know too many wizards who think they can get whatever they want.” He pressed the pen against Remalt’s back again, slightly harder this time, and sighed. “Senator?”

  “Remalt, please.” Faustus wanted to hear his name spoken by that soft voice.

  “Remalt…do you think the Eternal Chaos actually prefers wizards? As a race, I mean.”

  Remalt had to think; no one had ever asked him this question before. “No more than a parent prefers their oldest child,” he answered in the end.

  “But a parent would interfere with injustice committed by an older brother or sister against the younger one. Chaos never interferes. It just watches passively as siblings slaughter each other.” Sitri almost spat the last words.

  “Maybe that is Chaos’s version of justice. No matter the reason it stays passive, I doubt the reason is favoritism for wizards. I believe Chaos loves all its creations equally.”

  “Even the ones who commit heinous crimes?”

  “Isn’t that the purpose of unconditional love?”

  Sitri scoffed as he removed the pen and parchment from Remalt’s back. Remalt turned around to look at the demon, who now sat slouching as he read his own letter. His eyes moved swiftly over the words, then he rolled the parchment up and handed it to Remalt. “If Chaos loves us all unconditionally, yet still does not spring into action, I have no need for its love.”

  Remalt swallowed hard at the demon’s statement. “I suppose not,” he said after a moment of thinking. “Being loved only holds worth if it is noticed…felt.” For a moment he wondered if he knew what he was talking about, if he himself had ever experienced what love felt like. Not in the mood to go into detail on this subject any more than they’d already done, Remalt got up. “I’ll go give this to someone who’ll deliver it to your family.”

  “Thank you, Remalt, you’ve been very kind to me.” Sitri gave a careful smile.

  “Of course. It’s my pleasure.” Remalt returned the smile before turning to leave so the other man could rest.

  As he lifted the curtains, the demon called out to him. “You won’t read it, right?”

  “Of course not, Sitri. I swear.” He gave Sitri one last smile before heading straight for his own chambers, holding the scroll close to his chest, as if to protect it.

  The slaves inside jumped slightly as Remalt ripped the curtains to the side and entered the room. “Leave,” he commanded.

  The slaves cleared out as quickly as they could, and he was left alone to confront his own morals. Why had the demon asked if he would read it? It just made him wonder even more.

  He sat down on his bed, closing his eyes. Maybe he could remember the feeling of the pen against his back and decipher every stroke. “For Eternity’s sake,” he mumbled, realizing he’d given himself an impossible task. He searched his mind for just one valid reason to read the letter, but all he could find were several good reasons not to. But then there it was, the one realization that preserved his conscience: no one would know.

  He gently opened the scroll.

  My dearest Octavia,

  I hope my absence has not worried you too much. I was badly wounded on my way back

  home to you, but two of the senators from the Council of Wizards were kind enough to help me.

  The senators have been gracious towards me, but I am uncertain of their intentions. Few

  wizards are generous without expecting something in return.

  With the help of their healing potions, I hope to be back at full health in a week’s time. I

  already miss you and the children; I will be on my way back to you as soon as I am able.

  I love you unconditionally.

  Sitri

  Remalt’s eyes were glued to the word at the end. Jealousy made his chest tighten painfully. He remembered the prophecy the seer had told him when he was young—th
at he would meet a man with beautiful, piercing eyes, and that the iris would reveal they were meant for each other. All his life he’d waited for love, and now that he was so close to having it, he had already lost it.

  He let out a deep breath as he crumpled the letter into a ball. Seers were able to look into the future, but it seemed like he would have to carve his own path.

  The marketplace smelled of seafood, raw meat, blood, and sweat. Remalt lifted a perfumed cloth to his nose to keep from gagging. Had this not been a very personal matter, he would have sent one of his slaves, but he had to know that things were done correctly. He searched for the right shop as he passed several buildings.

  As he did so, Remalt noticed a white-haired beggar at a corner. She was scarcely dressed, revealing more of her skin than he cared to see; however, that was not why she caught his eye. She was staring intensely at him with pale white irises, and her lips moved, but she made no sound at first.

  “Re…” he heard her say. “Rem…alt?”

  A shiver went down his spine, but his fear did not stall his approach. Her features revealed that she was a seer, and it would be even more terrifying to pass on an opportunity to know his own future. He stopped in front of her, sat down on his haunches, and took her hand in his. She gasped as he touched her.

  “I am Remalt,” he said quietly. “Please, tell me what you see.”

  Her eyes moved frantically around, searching. “A beast…” she mumbled. “Blood-red eyes…will consume you.” She gasped again and tightened the grip on his hand. “True love reveals itself.…”

  He thought about Sitri, certain that she spoke of how much the demon would lust for him. It made his heart beat hard in his chest. As she came back to herself, her grip on his hand loosened. He couldn’t help but smile at her, even though she did not smile back.

  “Thank you,” he said, handing her a cowrie shell from his purse. This prophecy meant that his plan would work. Now all he had to do was execute it. He stood, then had to back up quickly as the seer tried to grab him. She looked desperate. “One cowrie was enough, wench, get off me!” How ungrateful; he had given her more than enough for the amount of information he’d received.

  They studied each other for a moment, then she backed away. Remalt turned on his heel and kept walking, glad to be rid of such a horrendous woman.

  When he finally found the shop, he was even more confident than before. This was the choice that would secure his own happiness. He stepped inside, taking in his surroundings. Two huge shelves lined either side of the room, filled with colorful spices from around the world. Remalt’s gaze went to the man behind the counter, who was staring at him attentively. His slightly elongated ears and dainty features gave away his fairy nature. Behind him stood a tall shelf stocked with vials of vibrant liquids, revealing that this merchant traded in more than exotic spices.

  “Can I help you?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow at Remalt.

  “I’m looking for someone by the name of Magnus.”

  “That may be me, depending on what you want,” the fairy said, chewing on his thumbnail.

  “I need a potion.” Remalt walked all the way up to the counter, staring back at the man. “I need someone who can make whatever I want. Are you skilled enough?”

  The man scoffed, clearly offended. “As long as you have a big enough purse, I can make anything and everything you want.” His eyes glanced over Remalt’s purple toga. “What do you want?”

  Remalt had thought about the details of the potion for several days; it was exciting to make it into reality. “I want something that will make the one who drinks it undesirable…ugly and distorted.” He thought for a moment. “And…I want them to become a lustful creature, that they become dependent on…intimacy.”

  Magnus seemed slightly disconcerted, despite his professional politeness. He cleared his throat. “I see. How long do you want it to last?”

  “Forever,” Remalt stated definitively. He’d love Sitri no matter what, but he had to make sure nobody else would. “I want it done by tomorrow. That won’t be a problem, will it?” He put his ringed hand on top of the counter.

  Magnus swallowed hard at the sight of the signet ring. “Of course not, Senator. I’ll have it done for you tomorrow at dawn. Does that sound good to you?”

  “Excellent. How much do I owe you for this service?”

  “It can be difficult to make something that lasts forever. To get the effect you want, it would also require rare—and very expensive—ingredients. I’ll probably have to use my last unicorn horn, and let me tell you, you’ve never experienced fear until you’ve gazed into the sharp-toothed jaw of one of those beasts—at least that’s what I’ve heard. And dragon scales—easier than the unicorn horn, but they’re greedy bastards.” He paused to think. “Would three hundred fifty cowries be…acceptable?”

  “Absolutely,” Remalt agreed. He couldn’t put a price on his own happiness. Whatever the cost, he would gladly pay it. “I’ll come back at dawn then.”

  “Good doing business with you, Senator. May the men of the council prosper,” the merchant said, holding his hand out for Remalt to shake.

  Remalt took his hand, sealing their deal. As he left the shop, the smell of animal cadavers and exhausted men entered his nostrils once again before he lifted his perfumed cloth to his face. Now, there was only one thing left to do.

  Sixty-one years earlier

  The boy’s eyes darted over the toned muscles of the marble statue. As he reached out to touch the rock-hard skin, his hand shook. Thrilling tingles surged through his body, as if he truly believed he was touching a real man. A small giggle left his lips as he stepped onto the pedestal that made the statue a head taller than him, evening out the height difference. His arms slid over the broad, snow-white shoulders that made his own complexion look darker than usual. He tilted his head, and for a second, he had expected the sculpture to do the same. Slowly, he leaned in, placing a small but lustful kiss on stone-cold lips.

  “Remalt!” His father’s voice rang out.

  The boy froze. Untangling himself from his imaginary lover, Remalt turned to look at the angry man behind him. He swallowed loudly before speaking. “Father. I thought— You’re home early.”

  “When you begged me to buy that statue, I thought maybe you’d grown to appreciate the arts—well, in another, more dignified way….”

  Remalt thought frantically for an excuse. “I was…practicing. I’m nervous I might disappoint Caecilia.”

  “It looked more like you were practicing kissing her brother,” his father retorted. “Why aren’t you ready? I told you yesterday that we would visit Caecilia and her family.”

  “I lost track of time, I—”

  “Obviously. Hurry, Remalt, we do not want to keep them waiting.”

  Remalt turned on his heels, heading for his bedchambers. His momentum dwindled the more he thought about that woman. He felt like a fool every time they had a conversation—as if he wore a grinning mask and danced like a monkey. She had caught him staring at her brother once, and after that she’d started to openly question his manliness. A boulder sank in the pit of his stomach, slowing his pace for a few steps before he halted.

  “Father? Do I have to marry her? I don’t feel like we’re a good match, and I don’t really feel comfortable when I’m with—”

  “It is decided. Now hurry.”

  There was no reasoning with this man. Remalt’s life was planned out—it had been for eighteen years now. Sometimes he daydreamed that his father would fall over and die right in front of him, freeing Remalt from arranged commitments. Other times he thought of running away with Caecilius—Caecilia’s brother. Those were the thoughts that followed him everywhere, the thoughts that gave him strength to keep going.

  By the time they’d reached the market, it had started to rain. Small drops of water landed on Remalt’s cheeks, creating the illusion that he was crying. Maybe the Eternal Chaos wept for him? The thought that the universe was just
as unhappy with his arranged marriage made him snort a laugh.

  “I think we should buy a nice necklace for Caecilia,” his father suggested. “Don’t you agree? As an apology for being late.”

  “We’ll be even more late if we stop to buy gifts.”

  “But at least we won’t be late and without gifts,” his father said, ending the conversation as he went to purchase the jewelry.

  Remalt sighed and headed over to a nearby water fountain to wait. He watched as the water droplets landed in the fountain, creating tiny ripples, then frowned as he saw the reflection of a man. Their eyes met, first through the water, then when Remalt lifted his head to look at the stranger. The man was pale; both his eyes and his hair were as white as the marble Remalt had kissed earlier—he had to be a seer.

  “Are you Remalt?” the white man asked.

  “Yes…?”

  “The Eternal Chaos has spoken to me about you.”

  Remalt’s heart started beating hard and fast. Had the Eternal Chaos actually noticed him? The white man held his hand out, offering a view into the future. It scared him, the thought of hearing that he’d be miserably married to Caecilia. But in the end, he chose to lock hands with the man. It was better to know.

  White eyes disappeared behind pale eyelids, and the man’s grip tightened.

  “I can see you, Remalt. You’re happy.” The man smiled. “Such piercing eyes…. He loves you.”

  “He?” Remalt blurted out. His knees suddenly felt weak, barely strong enough to keep him upright. “Not Caecilia? Caecilius, then?”

  The pale face of the man twisted into a grimace before he answered. “No. None of them….” His grip loosened, and bright-white eyes gazed at him once more. “The irises, Remalt, they will reveal that you are meant for each other.”

  Remalt watched as the seer left. He smiled, and the raindrops landing on his cheeks turned to happy tears. He wouldn’t have to kiss a stone-cold mouth forever; one day they’d turn into the soft lips of a man who loved him.