Merle pushed herself upright. The eye on the back of Vehr's neck wasn't tracking her movement, she realized abruptly. Vehr could surely see out of it, but all her other eyes focused in front of her, on Abeille's threatened—or promised—suicide. The one back here was heavy-lidded and unfocused in light of the drama unfolding on the other side.
"I see," Vehr said. "You make a compelling argument. Let's make something interesting of your death, then, shall we?"
Shit, Merle thought. She didn't have a knife any more. She'd thrown it away. But—
"I," Vehr said, "acc—"
Merle sank her scissors into the eye in the back of Vehr's neck.
Prince Vehr screamed, and the world went black and silent. In one moment, Merle had felt the horrible sensation of the scissors pressing into the eye, the hot fluid pouring out of it. And then in the next, Vehr's attention had snapped back to her and the world vanished.
She couldn't see anything, hear anything, feel anything. Not even the sounds or sensations of her own body that she was so used to. I might not feel it even if I died. She had no flutter of pulse or sense of breath; things she didn't notice but whose absence was terribly notable. There was no sound at all, a silence so complete it felt like it might crush her. She couldn't feel the ground, her own body, the sense of air around her. She was nothing—
And then reality came rushing back.
She was on the floor, she realized, in pain, but not sure if she'd been hit or trampled. Demons were yelling, screaming, fleeing. The world was chaos. A chair was overturned next to her; she followed the line of Vehr's hair, tangled around its legs, and realized that the reason was that Vehr was off her throne, standing and struggling against Abeille.
Abeille had both knives and had been slashing at Vehr—was still slashing at Vehr, even while Vehr had obviously redirected her powers from Merle to Abeille. A sound was coming from Abeille, strange and hoarse, and it was clear she couldn't hear it. Nor could she see what she was doing. Her eyes weren't focused on anything, and she was swinging like she couldn't feel what she was hitting. But her fingers were white-knuckled on the knife hilts, like she remembered that no matter what, she couldn't let go. Even if she couldn't feel her hands open or in fists, she couldn't let go.
Her first few strikes had been made with devastating effect. The ring of eyes making a necklace on Vehr's bosom were a bloody and wet mess, and Vehr's face was torn and bloody as well. The injured eyes, where they had been, were leaking a dark smoke.
It must be her power leaving.
But even so, her eyes weren't all gone—there were still the ones on her palms—and Abeille couldn't aim for them anymore. Vehr finally managed to get in under Abeille's flailing guard and threw herself against Abeille, flinging her onto her back on the floor with Vehr on top.
Furniture around the room scraped loudly at the movement, dragged forward by Vehr's hair wrapped around their legs.
Abeille's hands loosened with the impact and, unable to tell she wasn't holding on tightly, the knives went flying with her next swipe. She kept moving her hands anyway. If it's like how it was with me, she can't even tell she's lost them.
Vehr slammed an arm across Abeille's throat. There was no elegance in it. No demonic powers on display. Just demonic strength instead, choking Abeille out. She was choking and struggling to breathe and couldn't even tell she was dying.
Merle scrambled across the floor and shoulder-slammed into Vehr, knocking her off Abeille. The movement landed her on top of Abeille and she stayed there in a huddle instead of pressing her attack. If her body was in the way, it'd protect Abeille from whatever was coming next.
Senseless, Abeille hit Merle. The world must still be nothingness to her. That's fine, Merle thought desperately. If we survive, we can laugh about the bruises later.
That wasn't going to happen, though. Vehr was furious, sprawled on the floor. Her face was screwed up and bloody, blind and angry, both hands open to stare at them since her face could not.
"Oh," she breathed. "I'm going to kill you myself—"
"Your highness," Sestin said. He stepped over the huddled pair of girls on the floor with a click of his hooves, and bowed deeply to Vehr, smiling. "Allow me to assist."
He was offering her his hands, ready to help her up. Merle felt a strike of despairing indignation, but even as it rushed through her, she knew she shouldn't be surprised. Sestin had already revealed to her that his goal was power.
He doesn't need to like Vehr. He just needs to have her indebted to him.
Vehr hesitated only a moment, her hands shifting as she searched Sestin's face. Surely she, too, knew that owing him her life would mean she would have to grant him some privileges, and it rankled.
But she was weak now. She'd probably never been harmed like this in her life. And none of her other courtiers had stayed. Other than Sestin, it was just her and two girls, and despite the odds, they'd done this much damage to her.
Vehr took his hands.
Sestin smiled more brightly for a moment, starting to help her up. "Your highness, you won't regret this," he said. And then, smile widening more and more until he was showing more teeth than Merle thought was possible to fit into his mouth—
"You won't have a chance to."
His hands tightened on Vehr's and he crushed her last two eyes under his thumbs.
Vehr screamed, and the smoke pouring off her billowed. It had been thin streams, leaking out of every wound where an eye had been. Now, it was pumping it out like it was one of the factories upriver.
Struggling, Vehr pulled her hands from Sestin and tried to scramble away, pawing at the ground with bleeding palms, but her long sections of hair, still wound around the furniture, were holding her back. She scrabbled at the ground helplessly, not going anywhere.
Sestin laughed and grabbed her again. He hauled Vehr up like he was going to properly support her this time, hands on her shoulders as though helping her find her footing.
He leaned in, smiling with delight, giddy as a lover, and kissed her.
It was a cubant's kiss, capable of absorbing energy, and she was pouring energy out that she could no longer contain. His mouth moved on hers in a parody of passion, dipping her as he drank her down greedily.
Merle stared at them in a numb shock as Vehr struggled against him, then slowly stopped, just pressing her bloody hands to his chest, feeling him blindly. It seemed like she was almost enjoying it, in some strange, horrifying way, like she was finally feeling something, caught up in the sensation of Sestin killing her.
She didn't get any last words, didn't get anything but this. His mouth didn't lift from hers as her body began to dissolve entirely, hissing into steam and black smoke, until he was swallowing nothing but her traces in the air, no body left to even bury.
Merle became aware that Abeille was holding her properly now, arms around her tight and protective. She tore her eyes away from what had just happened, Sestin standing in the center of the now-abandoned room with a look of triumphant vindication, to look at Abeille.
Abeille met her eyes, staring back with the same shock Merle knew was on her face.
"Not exactly how I planned that to go, but it worked." Sestin had turned to them. He seemed absolutely giddy from whatever he'd done, smile unnaturally wide, tail lashing behind him, slit pupils so dilated they almost eclipsed the brightly glowing orange of his eyes. "So. Anyway! It's going to be dangerous here for the next few hours. She had people who hated her, but she had plenty of loyal followers regardless. And certainly there are people who will want to overthrow me before I've settled into my power. Go to your room. I'll make sure you're safe there."
They stared at him.
"Didn't you hear me?" Prince Sestin asked, smiling with feverish beatification. "Go to your room."
Chapter Nine
They went to their room.
Abeille took Merle's hand, squeezing it tightly, and led her back along the usual route. She didn't need the guidance, not even with as
much shock as she was in, but she didn't try to free her hand. It felt like a guilty pleasure, Abeille's hand warm on her own, both dirty and bloodied.
As soon as they got in the room, the door slammed shut behind them without either of them touching it. Merle tried the handle. It didn't budge.
"I hope we aren't locked in here for too long," she said, and managed an awkward smile. She loosened her grip in a hurry as Abeille started to pull away. Helplessly, Merle kept babbling, afraid that if she let a moment of silence well back up, some kind of unpleasantness would come with it. "I mean, I guess there's the chamber pot, but still—"
"I'd rather use that than be out there and get caught in a coup," Abeille said. She sighed. "They're demons, so who knows how long it'll take. I suspect Sestin has probably already figured out who's on his side and who isn't, so it may be quite quick."
"Do you think so?" Merle asked. Her heart had somehow slid back up into her throat, thick and fluttery. Are we just not going to talk about the rest of it? Pretend it hadn't happened? "It looked to me like he just took advantage of the opportunity."
"I…" Abeille trailed off, sinking onto her bed and chewing on her lip. "No, I don't think so. I think… I must have mentioned you, many years ago. I'm sure it must have been him, not Belette, who told the prince… who told Vehr about us. I owe Belette an apology if I see her."
Merle blinked. "But they said it was Belette."
"And Sestin's a shapeshifter."
"Oh," Merle said weakly. True enough, if she thought back, Belette had been confused but didn't apologize. She'd said it wasn't her. "You know, I thought that cubants had to keep some part of them the same. But when Sestin came to see me earlier, it was as a succubus, and she shapeshifted into a perfect mirror of me."
"I've heard most of them like to," Abeille said slowly, clearly still thinking about Sestin's role in things. "They do it to be recognized and things like that. But they don't need to. Their shape is entirely controlled by their will."
"So Sestin's been playing us this whole time?"
"Probably," Abeille said. "We're probably not the only ones he's played." She pinched her brows and sighed. "And we went along with it. We didn't even realize."
Merle let herself come a few steps closer before halting again. She didn't want to presume that Abeille would want her too near. "Is that really a bad thing?" she ventured after a moment. "Vehr was terrible. Sestin seems nice, even if he was manipulating things."
"I'm sure he'll do a better job with the humans in the city than Vehr did," Abeille said, tiredly. "For us, though? I guess it depends on if he thinks we're a risk or not. We were witnesses. We know what he did."
"Oh…"
"Plus, we'd be an easy scapegoat to offer up," Abeille pointed out, almost clinical. "He stepped in at the end to overthrow her, but if he hadn't, someone else would have done it soon, since she was weakened. But ultimately, we're the ones who acted against her. If he wants to try to court some of her loyal followers, instead of killing or exiling them, offering us up would be a good first step."
Merle scrubbed at her face with both hands. "Okay," she said in a small voice. "But if there's nothing we can do about that, can we just hope for the best?"
Abeille blinked in surprise, then sighed, relaxing into a smile. "That's… so very like you," she said.
"I'm sorry." Merle heard her voice come out, if possible, even smaller than before. A breathless, sad squeak. "I know you hate me for being like that."
Merle couldn't look Abeille in the face any more, so she missed whatever series of expressions may have crossed it. She did hear the guilt in Abeille's voice, though, when she said, "Oh. No. No, Merle. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't—I don't hate you. I've never hated you."
Her eyes were tingling. "It's… fine." Merle managed weakly. "I mean, it's just… what it is and… it's my fault that I—"
"No. No, please. Listen." The bed creaked, and then Merle jerked her gaze back to Abeille, watching her approach. Abeille took her hands again, squeezing them. "I'm sorry. I just… wanted to make you hate me. Make you angry enough to fight so that… that when I threw the fight, you'd kill me. It wasn't that I wanted to die, I just—I just wanted you to live."
The rush of feelings was so complicated Merle couldn't begin to name any of them. "I could never kill you," she blurted out.
"I… I know," Abeille said miserably. "I'm so sorry. I said such terrible things to you. I didn't know what else to do and… but that doesn't make it right."
"It's true, though," Merle said, voice an unattractive wheeze from how tightly her chest was squeezing itself. "I'm stupid. I'm so stupid and thoughtless, and I came back into your life and tried to pick up where we'd left off like nothing had changed, and I messed things up for you—"
Abeille shook her head furiously, braid flying. "No. Gods, Merle, what did I even have to mess up? There's nothing good here. I wasn't living, just… surviving. At least with you here I had… I had something worth protecting again. I felt like things were meaningful again."
Merle knew the feeling, had felt the same way. "I am stupid, though," she said, mumbling and looking down. "You can't argue that."
"You're… careless," Abeille said hesitantly. "You talk without thinking and you put your foot right in your open mouth. You react to everything with your heart bared, and it's amazing you've lived this long. But I love that in you. There's none of that left in me."
The word made Merle choke up, unable to find words, gulping loudly.
Abeille's lips twitched up a little, her smile guilty and sad and hopeful all at once. "I love you, Merle," she said. "And I'm so sorry. I don't think you're stupid. I just think you're honest."
Merle, to her own surprise, burst into tears.
Abeille came forward and pulled Merle into her arms. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry," she murmured softly, over and over, as she pulled Merle down onto her bunk and held her close. "I'm so sorry. Please don't cry—"
Merle shook her head, frantic, trying to communicate her feelings while she still couldn't speak.
She was still crying when she leaned up and kissed Abeille.
For a moment, Abeille didn't respond, and even in her rush of emotions she felt a shiver of fear—had she misunderstood what Abeille meant by love, had she gone too far again?—but then Abeille was kissing back, mouth firm against hers.
Oh.
Merle almost began crying harder, but forced it down, gulping, pressing her mouth against Abeille's. Something damp and sad and stifled inside her seemed to catch fire, and when she opened her mouth into the kiss, it was to gasp a breath, drawing air into a chest that finally loosened enough for her to breathe.
Abeille's lips were so soft, just a hint of wetness on them. Merle pressed the kiss, catching at Abeille's lower lip with her own, letting her tongue flick out to it. Abeille met that, hands rising to grasp Merle's bound hair, grasping at the knots as the kiss deepened.
Merle had kissed plenty of girls, but none that she loved like Abeille. The thought rose in her, and she let herself think it, let herself actually own it: I love her. I love her so much.
She whimpered into the kiss, an exhausted, needy sound, and wound her own fingers into Abeille's thick hair. She tasted Abeille's mouth, the lingering sour flavors of fear and grief and anger in there, a copper tinge of blood behind that, and it only made her kiss more fervently.
They kissed for ages, kissed each other breathless. Abeille pulled pins out of Merle's hair and lost them in the bed sheets as her hair tumbled down around her shoulders; Merle unbraided Abeille's hair with fingers gone clumsy with exhaustion and desire. They kissed until Merle's lips tingled with the pressure of it and they both broke it to gasp.
For a moment, they stared at each other, and then Abeille let out a small, delighted giggle.
Merle let out a laugh too, nasal and stuffed from having cried, and for a moment they just caught their breath, giggling with their foreheads resting together.
"Can we?" Merle said s
oftly, smiling. "I'd like to."
"Can we what?" Abeille asked, overly-serious, but when Merle glanced up at her, she saw the mirth there.
Merle said, "Don't tease," and pinched her side.
Abeille jerked. "Ow," she yelped, then put a hand over Merle's, holding it against her side. She ducked her head a moment later and kissed Merle again with a nip to her lower lip. "Yes," she muttered. "Please."
That was all Merle had needed to hear. She kissed back, then along Abeille's jaw as her hands wandered down Abeille's sides, sliding her fingers into one of the sliced cuts in her shift to get a grip before pulling it up.
Abeille shifted back, leaning forward and raising her arms to help Merle get it off. She was still blushing so hard that Merle could see it down to her shoulders—but, more importantly, she saw that Abeille's freckles went that far too, scattered across her shoulders and chest.
One of Merle's hands found a breast, squeezing it gently, rolling it in her palm, and she whispered, "Cute," as she leaned down to try to kiss each freckle.
Abeille gasped. "What?"
"Cute. You're cute," Merle said. She brushed her fingers over that curve, pinching the nipple gently. "You're so damn pretty, Abeille."
Letting out a soft moan, Abeille arched under that touch. "You're the pretty one, not—"
"I will fight you," Merle said seriously, looking up at her.
Abeille laughed again, breathless. "Please don't. Not again."
"Point," Merle agreed. She sat back, letting go of Abeille reluctantly, and untangled her own dress from around herself, pulling it over her head, leaving herself in just her underwear. "We're going to get blood all over the bed… At least none of these are deep."
Abeille didn't respond. Merle looked up again, suddenly uncertain, but found Abeille staring at her with a wide-eyed and very, very appreciative expression.
Merle grinned and reached for her again.
They fell back into kissing like they hadn't stopped, curling back down onto the bed and pressing close. Merle tangled her legs with Abeille's, enjoying the feeling of Abeille's soft leggings on her bare skin, and Abeille let out a soft sound, sliding rough fingers down Merle's back to her waist, then a little lower, pressing Merle against her.
Hair to the Throne Page 8
