Bloodtraitor

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  I debated pressing the point, and asking if he thought Kadee would trust him after he left for Midnight, but decided not to. Instead, I asked, “You believe you can resist the trainers better than you can resist one mad white viper?”

  “Midnight won’t be around much longer,” he said. “If they turn me, you’ll put me down.”

  I put an arm around the quetzal’s shoulders, and pulled him close. The two of us were too much alike.

  Vance had spent enough time with serpiente that physical contact shouldn’t have startled him, but coming from me it did. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed against me.

  Far too much alike, I thought when Vance asked, “How long did you live in Midnight?”

  “Farrell bought my freedom when I was seven,” I answered.

  Vance was too astute for such word games. “When you go there, they do not greet you like a slave sold away when you were seven.”

  No, they don’t. “They don’t treat me as well as they treat you either,” I reminded him. “Do you ever worry what Kadee would think of you if she really knew you, and all the things that go through your head on a daily basis?”

  I had an instant to regret the words, which were stupidly defensive, but Vance caught them and recognized them for exactly what they were—a cornered animal’s attempt to draw blood.

  “Is that what you wonder, when you sit alone by the fire, staring into the flames?” Vance asked, pulling away so he could look me straight in the eye, assessing. He shook his head. “No, you know what the others would think of you, and you know they don’t think it of me because I didn’t know anything else when I lived in Midnight. You…you went back, at some point.”

  I swallowed hard, because the question put me again inside the memory that Hara had already tried to dredge to the surface.

  Thirteen marks. Julian Cobriana, the man I would never call my king no matter what crown he wore, had explained how he had decided upon that number, but I hadn’t been listening. I had been struggling not to hear the cries and taste the despair of every criminal who had ever been bound to this table before me. That was my magic, my curse.

  When I was finally released, and the palace guards threw me back out into the woods, I heard what they were thinking: “What is the point of letting him live? He’ll only be back. It would be merciful to put him down—not to mention safer for the rest of us.”

  Serpiente worshipped a goddess of freedom, and believed that putting a person in a cage violates the dictates of that divine power, so they didn’t lock criminals away. Instead, they had only three responses to crime: reparation in service or coin for pretty slights and sins, execution for high crimes, or thieves’ marks, which were cut into a criminal’s back as a warning. With imprisonment not an option, there was only one treatment for habitual criminals, so any man or woman who earned thirty marks was put down like a sick piece of livestock that risked infecting the other sheep.

  After my one and only direct experience with serpiente “justice,” I hadn’t been able to stand to go home right away. Instead, I had returned to Midnight.

  “I was twelve,” I said. “I lived there for three months, then fled back to the Obsidian guild.”

  “Was that the only time?” Vance asked.

  I shook my head.

  He didn’t press, just waited.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Vance answered.

  “What about you?” I asked. “You brought this all up for a reason.”

  He leaned against one of the trees, pressing his palms against the rough bark. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I hate this. I listen to Misha, and she makes so much sense I want to believe her. Then I listen to you, and you make sense, too, but I know that when I go back and I listen to someone like Taro or Mistress Jeshickah, they’ll also make sense. So here I am, lying to almost everyone, helping sell a woman I’ve never even met into slavery, questioning every decision I make…”

  “Then you’re in the exact same boat as all the rest of us,” I answered. “I think the only person in our guild who feels confident she’s doing the right thing is Misha.”

  Vance shook his head. He didn’t need to say out loud what we all knew about Misha.

  “Sometimes I hate you,” he said. “I look back, and my life was perfect right up until the moment you walked into it.”

  I grinned, but it was not a happy expression. “Sometimes I hate you, for the exact same reason. But I think I love you, too.”

  “Yeah,” Vance answered, picking at the bark in front of him idly. “Kadee says it’s normal for siblings to want to hit each other occasionally. Is that what we are?”

  “We had the same parents,” I said. On a desperate rush of breath, I asked, “Can you stand to wait until Misha’s coronation before you leave for Midnight? I don’t think I can face her every day without you and Kadee with me.”

  Vance paused to consider and then finally nodded. “Midnight will probably find it more believable if I wait a while and then say I left because I didn’t like Misha’s leadership, anyway. It won’t make much sense to say I left because I disapproved of selling Hara, considering where I’m going.”

  I didn’t know what would happen after Misha took the throne. I didn’t know what Kadee would do, or what Nathaniel had planned for all of us. I did know that I would never be able to sleep inside the palace walls, no matter what Misha expected after her coronation. If she tried to force me, I would slip away like Farrell had so many years ago, accept the consequences of that decision, and try my best to live by Obsidian’s ideals.

  WE HAD TO stalk the hawk for weeks, learning her habits, before we had a chance to make a grab. Once we did, the abduction was flawless. We escaped pursuit, leaving no trace of what had happened to the younger avian princess. I was so focused on doing what we needed to do to save my sibling that it wasn’t until I actually looked at her, the golden-haired young woman trembling with fear and rage, that something in me said, This isn’t right.

  But by then the deal was made. Acise was there to pick up Alasdair, and she had Misha with her. If she hadn’t, maybe I would have been able to speak up to say, “We can’t do this,” but Misha could hear me, and I could see her, see the bruises on her skin and the blindfold across her eyes and the bonds on her hands, and even though I could sense the aura of madness I could not stand to step forward and say, “No, it isn’t worth it.”

  So we made the deal.

  I untied Misha’s hands and uncovered her eyes while Acise rode away with the unconscious hawk cradled in her arms like an ill friend she was taking care of.

  We all went home. Everyone except Alasdair. It was almost easy. Certainly easier to do than to live with.

  —

  As spring’s chill started to give way to early summer warmth, greens began to poke up from the damp earth…and Misha became increasingly frustrated with her mate.

  Watching her argue yet again with Aaron, I couldn’t help but think more about the woman we had sold in order to save her. It had seemed so easy to justify my actions then. Now I knew that I had made a devil’s deal.

  I added Alasdair to the list of victims it was beyond my power to save, and turned my attention to Aaron, wondering if I could do better by him.

  “You’re stalling,” Misha accused him. “I got Hara out of the way for you. It’s your turn to be bold now.”

  Aaron flinched, looking cautiously around the camp as if to confirm that no one outside our guild had heard Misha’s words.

  “I’m not stalling,” he replied, his voice calm despite his anxious expression. “Julian and our people don’t know what happened to Hara, but they aren’t idiots. If I walk in with you right now, they’ll know. I’ve had people I trust planting rumors that Hara made a deal with Midnight and it went bad somehow. It will make her less sympathetic, pave the way for our speaking out against the vampires, and keep us from being the only suspects once Julian hears where Hara is now.”

  Misha pulle
d away from her mate and stood. She glared at me as her pacing took her past my spot by the fire, and I looked away, careful not to meet her mossy-green eyes. Like Misha, I was impatient for our plans to move forward, but I also understood Aaron’s logic.

  If he hadn’t been caught in Misha’s thrall, I thought Aaron would have made a good king…as kings went, anyway. He had Farrell’s ability to step back and consider the whole situation, as well as his knack for speaking to people in a way that made them feel valued and respected. If we brought Midnight down, and then separated him from Misha, perhaps he could recover well enough to make both his fathers proud. We just needed to make sure he survived.

  Misha paused in her pacing to ask, “What about the trade laws?”

  Aaron’s frame relaxed, as if he believed this subject was safer than the last.

  “Julian is hesitant, but I think I nearly have him convinced. He has started taking an inventory of supplies, and has given me the account books so I can use them to estimate what we will need.”

  “What are you talking about? What trade laws?” I asked. I would have preferred to be a silent observer, avoiding Misha’s attention, but it didn’t seem that they were about to divulge the details of this previously unmentioned plan without prompting.

  Aaron smiled, as if pleased that I was showing an interest. Misha’s eyes narrowed fractionally.

  “Kadee gave us the idea, actually, when she negotiated with the Shantel,” Aaron explained. “Midnight requires that all commerce take place in public markets, and they tax all transactions that happen there. Our plan is to avoid lining their coffers by refusing to trade.”

  “People can live without luxury goods,” I pointed out, “but what about things like fuel and food?”

  Aaron nodded. “That’s why the royal house is going to collect all essential goods and organize their fair distribution. No coins change hands, so no taxes are owed.”

  “It meets the letter of the law,” Misha said. “We all know Midnight is fond of splitting hairs until the laws suit them. It’s time for us to do the same.”

  The plan was brilliance, or madness, or some of both, but it had a few major flaws.

  “You expect people to simply turn over their possessions and trust you to take care of them?”

  This time, it was Misha’s turn to grin. “There has already been some resistance. Sadly,” she said, with no hint of sorrow in her tone, “we expect threats. We may need to train more guards in order to keep our people under control.”

  The shapeshifter nations were forbidden from keeping an army, but encouraged to have guards to police their own. Misha was hoping for an excuse to train soldiers.

  “How are you going to deal with the fact that the serpiente get most of their food from Midnight?” I asked. The serpiente, like all the local shapeshifter nations, relied on Midnight for basic provisions.

  “As soon as I take the throne…as Aaron’s mate,” Misha added, as if he were an afterthought, “I plan to declare that the serpiente intend to refuse all future aid from Midnight. The royal house will ration the supplies we have. The Obsidian guild has plenty of experience surviving on limited resources. We’ll manage, until we can break our own fields.”

  “A dozen thieves can live off the land—and their neighbors’ bounty—easily enough,” I argued. “That isn’t going to work for the entire serpiente nation.”

  I looked to Aaron, wondering if he could offer better solutions to the obvious problems in Misha’s plan. The moment I did, I felt Misha’s magic lash out, squeezing the serpiente prince and shoving any independent thoughts he might have aside.

  “Do you hear yourself?” Misha challenged me as she smothered her mate’s potential contribution to the discussion. I saw others look toward us, and Misha’s magic twined around them, too. “Midnight is not the only nation with dirt. The vampires don’t even eat, so why, in two centuries, are they the only ones who have learned how to plant fields of corn or squash? Why are they the only ones who benefit when the rivers run thick with salmon? When we first came here, they offered us food in exchange for the luxury goods our artisans could provide. They taught us to create what we could sell instead of what we could eat, and that has made us dependent on them, but we are a nation of people with passion, innovation, and intelligence. What stops us from changing our ways?”

  “I’m not saying we can’t.” Why was I bothering to argue? The glint in her eye made it clear she didn’t intend to listen to reason. “I’m saying we might need to go slower. It’s already June. We have no cleared fields, and few farmers.” The serpiente grew flax for textiles, and a limited amount of oats and wheat—which was mostly used for hay for the sheep—but it wasn’t nearly sufficient to feed us all.

  Misha closed her eyes and drew a deep, slow breath, then nodded. Instead of feeling relief, I tensed, because I sensed her sudden resolve.

  “Excellent idea,” she said. I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, but I already doubted I would like it. “You can go to Midnight, and to the bloodtraitors’ village. Inspect their farms. Serpiente who go to Midnight often do so for the same reason we came to Obsidian, because they were in trouble with the royal house. You can let them know that, once we have a new king, they can earn pardon in exchange for their expertise.”

  Aaron frowned. “I know Malachi’s magic helps him avoid undue attention, but someone will notice if he starts sneaking around—”

  “Oh, he won’t need to sneak,” Misha interrupted. When she fixed her gaze on mine, I could see her fury. No matter how logical my points were, she couldn’t stand my challenging her. “Malachi goes to Midnight regularly. I’m not sure what work he does there…” She paused, letting damning speculation fill the brief silence. “But they let him stay whenever he wants. They trust him.”

  And with those words, she made certain that Aaron never would. I wanted to defend myself, but what could I say? Except for my efforts to save Vance, I hadn’t been back to Midnight since Misha and Shkei were taken, but even to me that sounded like a lame defense.

  “Thank you for the suggestion, Malachi,” Misha added sweetly. “And you’re right, as soon as possible would be best. I’ll summon you back when I’m ready for a report.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on her face and Aaron’s warned me not to.

  “You may go,” Misha said, as if the dismissal hadn’t been clear enough yet. “I’ll let the others know where you are.”

  I’m sure you will, I thought. I looked around for Vance and Kadee, but they had pitched their tents too far away to overhear my argument with Misha. When I reached out with my power, I could sense them curled uneasily together, sharing their fears and fragile hopes in hushed voices. Aika met my eyes briefly when I looked toward her, then turned her back after Torquil said something to her. She was far enough away that she would have heard Misha’s raised voice, but not her more quiet orders to me.

  There was no subtle way I could confer with any of them before I left without making Misha suspicious and getting my only allies in trouble. I didn’t have a choice. I changed shape and left the camp, hoping the others would trust me no matter what Misha told them about my disappearance.

  I landed in front of Midnight in the dark hours before dawn, and boldly sought Nathaniel’s room. We had recently sold a cobra. It would not seem odd for me to speak to the mercenary we had worked with. Like Misha had said, Midnight trusted me.

  I was frustrated to learn that Nathaniel was out. He had told me to stay with Misha and make sure she succeeded in taking the throne, and I doubted he would be happy that she had sent me here; I needed to know what he wanted me to do next. I also wanted his opinion on Misha’s mad plan, and how it would be helped or hindered by his own scheme. Midnight wouldn’t let her get away with it for long. When was Nathaniel planning to strike?

  “Out? For how long?” I asked the woman who answered the door. I recognized her as the second-generation slave who had been with Nathaniel when he picked up Hara.


  She responded to his question with a shake of her head. “I cannot answer that,” she replied.

  Because you don’t know, or you aren’t allowed to tell? I wondered.

  “When did he buy you?” I asked.

  Nathaniel had long avowed that he had no interest in keeping personal slaves. This seemed an odd time to break his rule, unless her purchase was somehow related to his plan for Midnight’s fall.

  “Just over three weeks ago, sir,” she replied.

  That sir had always grated on me, even when I was twelve.

  “Would you like me to deliver a message to Master Nathaniel?” the slave prompted. A note of unease had entered her tone, warning me that further questions would draw suspicion. For all I knew, Jeshickah had forced him to take this slave on due to some suspicions of her own. I didn’t want her reporting anything unusual.

  “Tell him Malachi Obsidian was here to see him,” I said, “and that I will be in the building if he wishes to speak to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I intended to go to the bloodtraitors’ village, both to obey Misha’s command and to gather information for myself, but I had to wait until after dawn. The vampires may have been up and alert, but the farmers who worked for them couldn’t force their crops to be equally nocturnal. For now, I would find somewhere to sleep for a few hours, so I could investigate agriculture once the sun was up.

  I started in the east wing, which held cell after cell of silent slaves, some engaged in work, and others sleeping. The cell where I had been born and lived for the first seven years of my life was currently empty. I stepped inside, drawn by the ghosts of my past, and touched the edge of a wool blanket that had been neatly folded and set at the end of the bed.

  Someone lived in this room, but there were no knickknacks, no symbols of anyone’s existence.