The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  “Don’t,” he said, lips peeling back from teeth that were still thick and sharp.

  “Felani,” Emma called, “Please get her something to wear.” Silence greeted her.

  Emma looked over her shoulder to find Felani gazing at her as though she were crazy. “She is a shapechanger, Emma. She does not care about modesty.”

  Emma tried not to sound frustrated. “Well I’m not, and I do, so get her some clothes. Please.” Besides — Nathifa might not care, but the male jaguar guards probably did. Nathifa was a beautiful woman — the shapechangers could harp on about being comfortable with their nakedness all they wanted, but Emma had seen the way the men looked at Felani and the rest of the maidens, and it just made her feel icky. She could handle many things, but not this one, not quite yet. Something about Nathifa naked and at the mercy of a bunch of big, intimidating men — it definitely wasn’t right.

  Felani balled up a linen sheet and tossed it as gently as she could at Nathifa. It landed in a messy heap in her lap, and though her hands were free, she ignored it. Her gaze burned at Emma, face a mask of hard lines and tight anger, skin mottling as though inkblots swirled beneath the surface. If Telly kept hurting her, she’d just change again and they’d be back at square one.

  “Try not to kill her, Telly,” Emma said dryly. “I told her we could talk, and she can’t do that with a crushed windpipe.” Telly obediently loosened his grip, forearms bulging with the effort. Nathifa was no weakling, Emma knew all too well.

  Emma waited until Nathifa had taken a few good gulps of air.

  “Why kill me?”

  Nathifa snarled. “Because you are a whore.”

  “Hey now,” Red Sun rumbled, coming to stand behind Emma. “You’re badmouthing the only person in this room who doesn’t want your hide for a wall hanging. If you can’t say something clean, I suggest you don’t open that mouth of yours at all.”

  Nathifa turned a contemptuous sneer on him, but it faded as he moved around Emma, putting himself closer to Nathifa. Uncertainty darkened her eyes, confusion following it.

  Was she reacting the same way Emma did to Red Sun’s proximity?

  Emma thanked him silently and turned her attention to Nathifa. “I know why you’re here,” she said, trying not to sound gentle — she didn’t think Nathifa would appreciate pity. “I don’t pretend to understand, but I know why. What would killing me achieve?”

  Nathifa stared at her, jaw working, body shaking. She kept darting small glances at Red; color was rising in her cheeks. She dragged the edge of the linen sheet up and tucked it beneath her armpits, turning resolutely away from Red Sun’s stare.

  “With you dead, he will be free.” Nathifa lifted her chin, a belligerent look in her eyes.

  White light flashed and Horne straightened to his feet in all his lean, naked glory. He put his hands on his hips.

  “Who will be free?” He glared at Nathifa, but he looked like he already knew the answer.

  “Kahotep,” Emma said, determined not to be distracted by Horne’s ridiculous posterior definition. “With me dead, there’s nobody to pledge to, and Kahotep will be free to be with her. Simple as that. Happily ever after.”

  Nathifa jerked at the tone of Emma’s voice as though she’d been struck. “What would you know of it? You —” A warning rumble from Red Sun killed the insult before it made it past Nathifa’s lips.

  Emma sat down at the edge of one of the low sleeping pallets, tired of looking down on Nathifa. “Admittedly I don’t know you at all, Nathifa, but you don’t strike me as the type of person to delude yourself.”

  Nathifa’s eyes went murderously narrow. “What in the name of Nephthys are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know about Nephthys, whoever that is, but I know you think Khai-Khaldun has absolutely no idea about you and Kahotep.”

  A muscle ticked in Nathifa’s cheek, and her eyes went hard and glassy as marbles. She said nothing.

  “Why would it matter what Khai knew of it?” Ichtaca spoke up for the first time, confusion and a little exasperation plain in his voice.

  “Khai doesn’t think she’s good enough for the prince,” Emma said gently. “And even if she was good enough, Khai wouldn’t care — he cares more about power, or whatever it is he stands to gain from the pledge and the consequent allegiance with the jaguars.”

  Nathifa’s eyes blazed, silent and screaming in a face gone taut with effort. Either she was tragically inept at masking her emotions, or those emotions were just too damn agonizing.

  “And how do you know this, Emma?” Telly was looking at her with an expression of sly fascination. She concentrated on his eyes, because the rest of him was way too freaky.

  “I’ve talked to Khai. It was brief but elucidating. He doesn’t care about women, doesn’t see them as real people — hell, he probably doesn’t see anybody as a real person — he only cares how about how useful you are. Nathifa was useful because she could fight me, and I’m useful because of what I am, but he has no use for Nathifa in Kahotep’s life.” Emma kept her tone even, but her attention slid to Nathifa, whose lips were pressed together in a white line of grief. “That’s probably the only reason he never noticed their…relationship. Because he doesn’t care about relationships. But he knows now, or he suspects. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Nathifa made a strangled noise in her throat, proud chin trembling. “How can you know such things? How can you know so well what he is like?” Her voice broke on a sob. “You have been here only a night!” Despair washed over her features and Emma blinked back tears; so stupid, to cry over the woman who had just tried to kill her, but it was her words that had finally broken Nathifa.

  Besides, the jackal had been pinning all her hopes for her love on Emma’s death; now Emma lived, and in Nathifa’s eyes, that hope was destroyed. Hell, maybe she was crying because she’d seen the way Kahotep looked at her — seen the way she looked at him — as though their hearts were ragged, open wounds that might never close.

  “I’ve known men like Khai,” Emma said to Nathifa, pretending for a moment that nobody else was there with them — pretending she couldn’t sense Telly’s eyes on her, couldn’t feel Fern crouched in her mind, pretending Alexi wasn’t watching the back of her head with his cool yellow gaze. “I’ve known men who only see what you’re worth to them, what kind of an asset you make.”

  Nathifa drew a painful breath. “Kahotep is not like that,” she said so softly Emma barely heard.

  “I know,” she answered. “And I don’t want to take him from you.”

  Nathifa blinked, all the tentative trust emptying out of her face. “Lies.”

  Emma shook her head, noting out of the corner of her eye that Horne had directed Andres out of the tent with Guillermo and Manauia, most likely to ensure they weren’t being spied on. But nobody tried to stop Emma from talking — and while she had the floor, she was going to take advantage.

  “No, Nathifa,” she said, “I swear to God, I don’t want him. He’s very beautiful, but I don’t know him, and I don’t care about the pledge — I do not want him, not in the way that…not in the way that Khai wants me to have him.” The words left a yucky, oily taste in Emma’s mouth — and by the looks on the men’s faces, they felt the same way.

  Nathifa regarded Emma as though she were mad. “What are you doing here, if not for Kahotep?”

  Emma’s grunt of surprise was echoed by Telly and Fern, but Alexi answered the question. “Are we to take it you know nothing of the hostage your king used to persuade us?”

  Nathifa frowned. “Well yes, of course, but I thought — most of us thought — that it was merely a means of attracting your attention. You can’t mean to rescue him.”

  Alexi was simply there; nobody saw him move. He loomed over Nathifa’s sprawled body, incredulous anger stamped across his features, hair slithering over his bare shoulders and swinging in a sinuous cascade down past his denim-clad behind. The air around him thickened; Nathifa’s bare skin sprang
up with goose bumps.

  She shivered, but met his eyes when she spoke to him. “One person means that much to you?”

  Alexi’s shoulders un-hunched a fraction and the temperature came back up a notch. “Such a thing is unheard of in our kingdom,” Nathifa said quietly, dropping her gaze. Emma marveled. Not in a million years would she have guessed Alexi cared about anyone. No wonder he’d come. No wonder he was so pissed.

  He shot her a look over his shoulder that made her breath catch, and she slammed her mental shields down as well as she was able. It still felt like pretending, like the mere thought of shielding herself was just that — a mere thought — but Fern brushed her mind with a satisfied touch as he always did when she got the mental stuff right.

  Alexi moved away from Nathifa, and away from Emma, but there was only so much room in the tent. He ended up standing between Andres and Horne, with his arms crossed against his bare chest and his dark brows in a severe frown.

  I’m worried about you. Fern’s voice in her mind was gentle. His black eyes on Alexi were not.

  I’ll tell you all about it in the morning, she promised.

  “We just want to find the other serpent priest and get out of here,” Emma said to Nathifa, who eyed her with suspicion. “I’ll admit that when I first came here —” Emma hesitated, not wanting to anger Telly, but needing Nathifa to believe her — “Before I ever laid eyes on Kahotep, I entertained the thought of accepting the pledge. Because it would make it easier to get our person back — that’s the only reason why. But I no longer believe that would help.”

  “She’s right.” Emma glanced in surprise at Telly. He growled, canine nose wrinkling in what Emma thought was supposed to be a humorless laugh. Nathifa stiffened.

  “Khai-Khaldun would never have tried to force the pledge on Emma so quickly if he intended to let any of us go,” Telly said, ostensibly to Nathifa, but also for the benefit of Red Sun and Alexi, the maidens, and the rest of the guards present. “What if she had accepted? I think he would have found another way to delay, even if the pledge had been carried out — if he ever believed that Emma would go for it in the first place. For all we know, he may have estimated Emma’s power as greater than yours, Nathifa, and intended for her to defeat you all along. Perhaps even kill you. It would be a convenient way to dispose of a problem you and the prince thought Khai knew nothing about.” He paused, eyes on the top of Nathifa’s head. His choke hold never loosened, but something flickered across his half human face — something like sympathy.

  Emma felt an odd, liquid rush of jealousy zing through her, and it shocked her. She swallowed, hoping like hell Fern hadn’t caught that nasty little thought — or Telly, for that matter. There were officially too many people with access to her private thoughts.

  “Let her go, Telly,” Emma said, meeting his eyes. He stared at her a long moment. She couldn’t bring herself to try to speak to him mind to mind again, not with that absurd pang of jealousy still echoing around in her head, so she just willed him with her eyes to understand — to understand that she knew if Nathifa tried anything, he and the others were good enough to stop her.

  He blinked and slid away from Nathifa, white light enveloping him as he moved. It flashed, strobe bright for a second, with the morphing silhouette of Telly’s humanoid body captured within it, and then he was standing there, nude and golden and human. No muzzle, no fur — face perfect and pointed, sandy brows pinched in a frown, blond hair moving in a wind that wasn’t there. His naked body was solid and compact; he wasn’t tall, didn’t have the huge, bulging, intimidating physical presence of some of the jaguars — his was the physique of an acrobat, smoothly muscled and perfectly proportioned, electric energy humming through every curve and hard plane of flesh. Dark, tawny hair dusted his abdomen and curled lower — and Emma looked away so fast she almost sprained an eyeball, but meeting his eyes was just as bad. The look in them was hard, serious, and all for her.

  Nathifa drew the linen sheet around her body, coming slowly to her knees and folding them beneath her, drawing Emma’s attention back to her.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” Nathifa’s eyes were full of uncertainty, sinfully beautiful mouth curving down in a frown.

  Emma came to her feet and stepped back onto the bed, closer to Fern. “You don’t. For me, all of this would be enough to win my trust, but I’m new at this.” She smiled tightly. “My friends would call me naive, but never to my face.”

  Nathifa replied before any of the men could give voice to the protests that darkened their faces — guilty protests, Emma thought. “For someone new to our world, you seem to see much. I would hardly think you naive.” Nathifa glanced at the men with a shrewd look in her eye. “Nor dare to call you such, to your face or no.”

  Emma laughed in spite of herself. “I’m a fast learner. Them, not so much.”

  Nathifa’s eyes crinkled with amusement, but the rest of her face was too sad to play. She began to stand, very slowly, smoothly, so as not to spook the men — or the maidens, who watched her with huge eyes and smoky faces, the cat not far from their skin.

  “What do you intend to do about your stolen friend, if you will not accept the pledge?” Nathifa asked.

  Emma opened her mouth to speak, but shut it before Telly or Alexi could tell her not to give all their secrets away.

  “We’re not sure,” she said carefully. “We don’t know enough about what Khai has planned for us. We don’t even know why the jackals want the pledge.” Emma thought about mentioning what Kahotep had said at the dance, about the pledge — For my kingdom. For my people. For me, I beg you — and decided to keep it to herself, at least until she knew more.

  What had he said about blood? What had he meant? Emma had no idea what Kahotep might have told Nathifa about the pledge — they were clearly in love, but how honest were they being with each other, if Kahotep was begging Emma to consider accepting the pledge, and Nathifa was attempting assassination?

  Nathifa looked nervous, worried. Her strong, lovely face was hard with some thought she was unsure of sharing — so Emma wasn’t the only one.

  “Nathifa,” said Telly, “If you know something that could help us, you’ll be helping yourself.”

  Nathifa cut him a look over her shoulder that told him she wasn’t stupid. And judging by her lack of reaction to Telly’s stark gorgeousness, she was accustomed to hot men standing around in their birthday suits.

  Nathifa turned back to Emma. “I don’t know if it will help, but I know why the jackals want the pledge.” Her hands picked nervously at the edge of sheet wrapped around her body — hands that were used to having a weapon close by, Emma suspected. “Khai-Khaldun’s kingship is a false one,” she said quietly. “He ascended the Pharaoh’s throne by brute force, when Kahotep was too young to contest him.”

  Emma blinked stupidly. “He killed the true king, Kahotep’s birth father?”

  Nathifa shook her head. “Ascendancy passes through the maternal line, with preference to the female child, if one exists. Kahotep was their only child.” Nathifa’s fists clenched. “Khai killed Raziya, the queen. He also slaughtered all of her handmaidens, the warrior priestesses, save for two. Fatima escaped and went into hiding, but I remained.”

  “Well then,” Red said, putting his one fist on a hip. “Just what in hell is Khai doing still alive, if he killed your Pharaoh and half your guard? And what does it have to do with the pledge?”

  Nathifa’s shoulders stiffened, as though it was still painful to think about. The way she’d mentioned the queen, perhaps she had known her somehow.

  “The queen was ill.” Nathifa’s mouth twisted. “Khai-Khaldun — rather, just Khaldun, as was his birth name — he took Raziya’s life in the name of easing her suffering. Some knew better, but any who spoke out, like my sisters did, were executed.” Nathifa’s throat worked, face blank. “She was wasting away, and nobody knew why. King Minkah was in Siberia, and had been traveling Europe for more than a year. He was searching f
or a cure.” Nathifa’s gaze fixed on Emma, meaning unmistakable.

  Emma heard one of the maidens take a harsh breath through her teeth. Horne went very still, and Fern’s sudden focus was like a strong, pure liquor pouring through her.

  Telly moved around to stand to the side of Nathifa. “When was this? Did he have intelligence on Emma’s existence?”

  Nathifa shifted, eyeing him, posture rigid with tension. “This was just over a hundred years ago. He had nothing on Emma specifically — how could he? But he was a believer.”

  Emma held up a hand. “A believer?”

  Nathifa gave her a flat look. “The prophecies. He was always faithful, but when the queen started to waste, he began searching in earnest and could not be stopped. It was an ordeal; as you likely know, there are no surviving records of the prophecies, not for at least six thousand years.”

  Emma bit her tongue — she definitely had not known that. Something to ask about, later.

  “He found something,” Nathifa continued. “But it turned out to be a dead end. Of course, now none of that matters; you’re here, real.” Nathifa’s tone was bitter. “Too late to save Raziya or her king.”

  Emma cocked her head at Nathifa. “Over a hundred years too late.” If Nathifa thought she was going to feel guilty for not being born over a century earlier, then the jackal woman had at least managed to do what no one else had — find Emma’s guilt threshold.

  “I am sorry.” Nathifa ducked her head in a respectful gesture that was all warrior: no obeisance, even in the presence and at the mercy of the caller of the blood. How this woman had survived at Khai-Khaldun’s royal court, Emma had no idea — Khai didn’t seem the type to appreciate pride in his servants.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Emma sighed and put her face in her hands. “What does this have to do with the pledge?” She felt a small hand on her arm, and looked up — and then down — into Felani’s solemn face, but the maiden’s smoky eyes were fixed on Nathifa.

  “Our queen was not the only one of our race ever to develop the wasting illness.” Nathifa’s eyes slid to Felani, and they shared a haunted look. “It starts with the royals, the purest lines, the oldest — and once their strength is compromised, it weakens the rest of us. Only two have succumbed since the queen, but there will be more. The waste is slow but certain.” Nathifa’s voice hardened. “Nothing’s changed in the hundred years since she died — we still don’t know what causes it, and we’ve never found a cure. None of the races across the face of the earth has found a cure.” Nathifa turned back to Emma. “Our only hope is the prophecy — our life force linked and ultimately bound by one, a human woman, made for us but not of us. Fated to come when our races need her most.”