Bloodtraitor

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  Discreetly, of course. They were well liked by the others, and people tended to have an irritating affection for newborns.

  —

  Despite what we were going toward, Vance and Kadee seemed as anxious to leave as I was. Though the Shantel mouthed words of gratitude and hospitality, their hollow, mourning gazes drove us out as surely as our duty to our next task drew us on.

  We were still a half day’s ride from the serpiente palace when I stopped short, sensing someone through the trees, moments before a man in the regalia of the palace guard stepped out and demanded, “Who goes there?”

  Normally, I would have turned to run, but…something wasn’t right.

  This man didn’t have the aura of a guard, and his uniform appeared battered, no longer crisp and vibrant black and navy.

  Kadee and Vance drew weapons, but I didn’t, even though the man facing me had a bow pulled.

  My instincts were rewarded a moment later as the guard relaxed his hold on the bow and, inexplicably, started to laugh.

  “Obsidian,” he said, shaking his head. “Naturally.”

  “What’s going on?” Vance asked warily. He held his knife loose by his side, taking my cue that it wasn’t time to fight, but still concerned.

  “I’m Quentin. If I’m not mistaken, you’re Malachi, Kadee, and Vance Obsidian. I’m sure you’re aware that Naga Misha has put you all on a list of individuals wanted for treason.” The guard spat the word “Naga,” the serpiente title for their queen, as if it was poison. Before I could decide whether or not those words were a threat, he added, “That’s good. We could use someone with experience. If you need anything, our camp is through this way.”

  He turned his back on us and started to lead the way through the woods. Vance, Kadee, and I exchanged glances, but were too curious to resist following. Soon we found ourselves approaching a rough encampment.

  We were challenged again as we drew near. Unlike the first guard, this woman had only a knife, which looked more like a kitchen implement than a weapon. She wasn’t wearing a uniform.

  “Are you crazy?” the woman hissed. “What are you doing, bringing them here?”

  “Where else would I bring them?” Quentin answered. “They’re allies.”

  It was certainly the first time a royal guard had looked at me, or any child of Obsidian, and thought “allies.”

  “I take it your group is fighting Misha?” I asked.

  “Fighting may be too strong a word,” he answered.

  “ ‘Hiding from’ would be more accurate,” added the woman. “Surviving, if we can.”

  Barely surviving, I thought, as Vance, Kadee, and I toured the ramshackle camp. These were not people used to living in the woods. Many were dancers, used to the most luxurious accommodations the serpiente had to offer. Others were merchants, shepherds, or craftsmen. Only a few were guards.

  “Misha and Aaron have the palace guards tightly under control,” Quentin explained. He seemed to be tentatively in charge of the exiled group. “Anyone who speaks up disappears for a few days, and comes back more…tractable.”

  I winced, imagining the persuasion that caused that kind of change. Magic was probably involved, but based on what I had seen in the palace months ago, it was surely mixed with physical cruelty as well.

  “There are about two dozen of us,” Quentin said as my gaze raked the camp.

  Their shelters were barely sufficient for summer or fall; they were probably already becoming uncomfortable at night, especially for individuals used to soft living. The camp supplies I could see were obviously scavenged or improvised, few of them appropriate for their current uses. The Obsidian guild had always lived rough, and I had known plenty of cold and hungry nights when supplies were scarce, but we had been better off than this because we knew what we were doing. These people would never make it through the winter without help.

  “Our only safety comes in the fact that Misha isn’t comfortable sending guards to hunt us,” Quentin added. “I don’t think she trusts them to come back.”

  That was good news. Misha’s magic wasn’t all-powerful; it was significantly weaker than mine, and I had never had the strength to conquer a civilization.

  Vance was the first to ask, “Does she know yet—for that matter, do you all know—that Midnight is gone?”

  Quentin just stared at us at first, as if waiting for Vance to continue. After a long silence, he said, “Do we know…what?”

  As we began to speak, Quentin hushed us, and called the rest of his band over. My skin crawled as we stood in front of the crowd, many of whom were looking at us with much more suspicion and loathing than Quentin. He seemed to have quickly grasped the idea that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” but the rest were not so swift to trust members of the guild they had been warned about for a generation.

  We didn’t explain what our roles had been in the attack, but we described the fire, and what we had seen of the aftermath: the sludge of molten stone, the still-smoldering embers, and the lingering stench of the dead.

  “My understanding is that another group of vampires plans to step in and take control over their own kind,” I said, “but they don’t care about the shapeshifters. We’re on our own now.”

  I expected to see relief and celebration, and there were moments of that…but many faces fell. Quentin was the one who finally articulated what many of the others were thinking.

  “That means Misha did it,” he said, with what sounded like dawning horror. “She promised to fight Midnight, and now it’s fallen—”

  “The timing is a coincidence,” Vance snapped. “Misha can’t take credit.”

  “But she will,” Quentin replied, “and that will make it even harder to convince people to stand against her.”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t ever considered a civilized rebellion where everyone rose up against a corrupt queen. A covert assassination was more likely to succeed.

  A woman in the crowd whose name I didn’t know spoke up next, asking, “What happened to Hara? A lot of people won’t fight Misha because they see no choice. We could easily overturn a white viper if we had a cobra to take the throne.”

  I resisted the urge to look at Kadee and Vance, an expression that would have instantly and absolutely given away my guilt in the matter.

  Kadee answered for me. “We tried to save her,” she said, voice heavy with sorrow that I knew was more sincere than mine would have been. “She was in Midnight when the attack happened, and we tried to rescue her, but…we were too late.”

  I appreciated that she said we. She said it as if she believed that I would have kept my word and tried to rescue the cobra we had allowed Misha to sell, if I hadn’t been knocked out.

  Unfortunately, the woman raised her voice again. “That isn’t what I meant,” she said. “I mean, what happened to her—really? I know what our new royal house says. I want the truth.”

  Again, thankfully, Kadee spoke up. This time her voice was softer, less sure, but no less honest.

  “Misha,” she said. “She came up with the plan. We”—she gestured to herself, me, and Vance—“we tried to argue with her, and she turned on us. I would have saved Hara if I could have, but there was no way.”

  “We couldn’t even go to Hara to warn her,” Vance added. “We’re children of Obsidian. She never would have let us speak, and if she had, she never would have believed anything we said.”

  I thanked the fates that I had such companions with me—dear, sincere Kadee, and clever Vance, who could lie so smoothly and carefully. The crowd seemed mollified, at least.

  “Where is Julian?” I asked. I had always hated the old king, but if the serpiente insisted on having a king before they would get rid of their false queen, he was the only one left who could fill the role.

  “Murdered,” Quentin answered. “A man from the Obsidian guild was arrested for it. Aaron and Misha had him publicly executed as a way of disavowing themselves from his actions.”

  I felt myself
blanch in a way I hadn’t previously. Misha had only been on the throne a few months, and she was already using us as scapegoats. Was that how she planned to get rid of Torquil and Aika when they became too inconvenient?

  “Who?” I asked, imagining my scattered kin. Even though many had followed Misha, I didn’t have it in me to hate any of them.

  “A mamba named Phillip,” Quentin answered.

  There was no one in our guild by that name. Asking Quentin for more details only made it clear that the poor serpent hadn’t been one of ours. What unfortunate wretch had Misha sacrificed to hide what I had no doubt was her own crime? And did it make it better or worse that she blamed Obsidian, but killed a stranger?

  Kadee, Vance, and I stayed with the group. Where else? We were all exiles, with nowhere else to go and only the most tenuous of goals.

  More importantly, we stayed close to each other, and watched each other’s backs, because there were plenty of whispers from people who weren’t happy to see us. I didn’t want Vance or Kadee to show up one morning with a slit throat.

  Bit by bit, we helped make the camp livable, applying our knowledge of how to survive in the woods and make do with minimal supplies. The three of us hunted almost every day. Without consulting the rest of us, Kadee sneaked into the palace and found Aika and Torquil; even pregnant, Aika refused to flee danger, but instead helped smuggle us supplies, information, and occasional allies.

  Bit by bit, we learned the true depth of our disastrous situation.

  I had negotiated with Nathaniel to protect the central market and fields, but I hadn’t accounted for the reckless acts of panic. The market had been sacked within hours of Midnight’s end. Any wares left there had been stolen or destroyed. There were also fights in the bloodtraitors’ village. The fall harvests had been haphazard, and many of the food supplies on which the shapeshifter nations depended were either hoarded by those who had them, or left to spoil when no one organized their harvest, packaging, and transport.

  Trade, which should have been revitalized for the serpiente once they were unafraid of Midnight’s laws, remained stagnant. The Shantel disappeared into the woods again instead of supporting the others and sharing the supplies they had prepared. No one could reach them. As for the avians…

  “What do you mean, missing?” I demanded.

  Vance didn’t flinch. “Exactly what I said,” he replied flatly. “Rumors say the avians’ queen Miriam and her only child, Stephen, are both gone. They went for a meeting with Misha and Aaron, and never returned.”

  Would Aaron and Misha have attacked the Tuuli Thea and her heir?

  Why wouldn’t they? Misha was mad, and Aaron was so deeply in her thrall he had no sense of his own.

  “Misha is threatening to greet any avian demands with soldiers,” Vance replied.

  I let out a frustrated growl. Midnight had fallen, but Misha wasn’t content. She needed an enemy to fight. She wouldn’t hesitate to start a war.

  “I don’t know if this means anything,” another serpent said, “but I just got back from checking the market, where I finally found one of the Shantel. They’re in rough shape—their sakkri never returned from the attack on Midnight, and their magic is volatile because of it—but they haven’t completely abandoned us. While we were talking, he mentioned rumors that a golden-haired woman was seen talking to Prince Lucas. I don’t know why Miriam would be with the Shantel, but…”

  He trailed off with a hopeless shrug, dropping his eyes.

  My heart nearly stopped.

  Golden-haired woman. There was a possibility it was Miriam, of course…but there was also a possibility it was Alasdair. Could she have made it out? If she had, and she had been injured, someone might have brought her to the Shantel for healing.

  “I need to go,” I whispered.

  I threw myself into the air, taking to my second form so rapidly I barely even heard Vance’s startled yelp of, “Malachi! Wait!”

  I couldn’t wait for him. Even if we were willing to leave Kadee alone—which neither of us would be—Vance’s quetzal wings could never keep up with mine, and I couldn’t stand to slow my pace. I needed to know. Now.

  KEYI KNELT AT the sakkri’s side as the elderly witch shuddered and coughed. “So much bloodshed,” the sakkri said. “So much ash.”

  “Are you all right?” the falcon asked.

  The sakkri shook her head. “My magic was never meant to be used this way. Help me back to my land?” she pleaded.

  Keyi tried, but when they reached the border between Midnight and the magical forest of the Shantel, the sakkri stumbled and fell within arm’s reach of her homeland.

  “Oh, my sister,” the sakkri whispered as softly as a prayer. “You were supposed to take this burden from me.”

  Keyi tried to help the sakkri stand, but the witch shook her off.

  “No,” she said. “It’s over. This body is too old and too bloodied to hold such power anymore.”

  “Don’t talk that way!” Keyi reached down to pull the sakkri to her feet with or without her consent.

  But her work was in vain. Keyi’s hands passed through the sakkri’s dark skin as if it were nothing but a shadow…and then that’s all that it was, an irregularly shaped shadow cast by the trees…and then even less than that. She was gone.

  —

  As soon as I passed above the Shantel forest, the world around me spun, driving me to the ground so hard it knocked the breath out of my lungs. I hit the cool earth and for several moments just lay there, trying to pull air into my body.

  No, not just cool—cold. It was mid-October, but the ground already felt as frozen as the night Shkei had died, when I first met Vance. The land was mourning the sakkri.

  I stood cautiously, wary of other magical traps. The air around me had a quiet, waiting feel to it. Would a new sakkri be born? Who would teach her to use her power?

  I started walking, trying to guide myself by the magic around me, but I had only come to the Shantel woods guided by Nathaniel’s tokens. I could only hope I would end up at the central village. If Alasdair was alive, that’s where she would be.

  If they haven’t executed her, my cynical, despairing mind whispered to me. The Shantel didn’t believe anyone who had been imprisoned in Midnight could ever be trusted again.

  Night fell around me, but I trudged on, tripping over brambles and downed tree limbs. The woods showed damage as if from a fierce and violent storm, more extreme than anything we had actually experienced. Were they dying? Had the sakkri really sacrificed everything—not just herself, but her land and her people—in order to fight Midnight?

  I had given everything I had as well, but an outlaw who refused responsibility for anyone or anything beyond himself could never have as much to lose.

  By the time I reached the stone walls that ringed the Shantel village, I was trembling with exhaustion. My vision was swimming with ghosts of both the past and the future, bloody and wailing specters I couldn’t quite vanquish. It was almost a relief when the guards appeared around me and grabbed my arms.

  “Alasdair?” I said.

  No one answered. I hadn’t really expected them to. They hoisted me up and dragged me forward. I was grateful for the assistance; I couldn’t walk anymore.

  They didn’t bring me to Alasdair. They didn’t even bring me to one of the Shantel royals.

  Instead, they brought me into a guest suite in the royal family’s home, and dumped me in front of a woman with pale skin, ebony-black hair, and garnet eyes. How had she made it past the flames and out of Midnight?

  “He’s one of your people,” I heard them say. “What would you like done with him?”

  Hara Kiesha Cobriana stared at me, at first with confusion, and then with growing fury.

  “Before you answer,” another voice interjected, “you should know that Malachi was critical in the attack against Midnight.”

  I turned toward Lucas, grateful that he had come to my defense. The ruling prince had dark circles under his
eyes.

  “I’ve also heard that Misha and Aaron have declared him a traitor, and put a bounty on his head. It might be worth hearing what he has to say.”

  The magical pressures that had battered me on my way here had left me exhausted mentally and magically. I had little time left before my own power would force me into the dark void, where I would dwell until my body had recovered sufficiently for my mind to inhabit it. I needed to explain my presence. I needed to justify what I had done. I needed to convince Hara not to kill me out of hand, as I could see in her eyes she wanted to.

  “Alasdair?” I croaked. My throat was tight, parched as if by the fires that had consumed Midnight. “Kill me if you want to, but please tell me first, did Alasdair survive?”

  Hara’s eyes widened, and then narrowed in suspicion. “Why do you want to know?” she asked.

  If the answer was no, she would have said no. She knew the part we played in selling Alasdair. She would have blamed me for the hawk’s death, if she could.

  She’s alive.

  Darkness swallowed me.

  “We need to go!” Aislinn shouted desperately. Ever since she had triggered the spell, her skin had been tingling, and her muscles were heavy as if she had worked them to exhaustion. Now her eyes stung and her lungs burned from the smoke she had already inhaled—but that was nothing compared to what would happen if the fire reached them.

  Hara turned and gripped Ashley’s hands. “I won’t go without you. I never would have survived here all this time if you hadn’t helped me. Please.”

  Ashley shook her head, her eyes wide and panicked. “I can’t.”

  Hara wouldn’t leave without Ashley, and they were running out of time. Knowing the mind of a slave better than anyone, Aislinn snapped, “Would he want you to stay here to die?” The hawk gasped at the blunt words, but she started to move.