Princess Reviled

by Butler, J. M.

  WroOth shrugged. "They come to harm us. We kill them."

  "You invaded them!" Amelia shouted. "You three invaded this country. These people are angry, and they're grieving. So don't you dare judge them."

  "We're all killers here, dear heart. Everyone except you of course. Given your inability, it seems you're more of a hostess, aren't you?"

  Amelia steadied herself, resisting the urge to yell. "Don't antagonize me, WroOth. In case you can't tell, I've had enough. I'll kill when it's time, and then I'll die too." Her voice shook. She leaned her head back against the wall.

  Her elmis itched and ached worse than before. She turned her wrists over to study them, wondering if she had struck them in the wrong way or cut them. They appeared normal, but they throbbed as if she'd rubbed them with poison ivy. No. It was more like the itch of poison ivy combined with the dull ache of her wisdom teeth coming in.

  She slammed her hands against the table and then held her head. "What's wrong with me!"

  "It has been a difficult day," Naatos said. A trace of a smile was on his face as he studied her. While his expression was calm, the look in his eye suggested he knew something that was quite humorous. "Your elmis are uncomfortable now, aren't they?"

  Amelia pressed her palms together. Amidst the pain from the fights, her elmis still found a way to make their itching known. She grabbed some of the herbs and bandages she'd brought for herself and began crushing the bitter and fresh scented plants in a mortar and pestle. The bikro nearly fell off the table with the movement. "What difference does it make?"

  "Your elmis are telling you something very important," Naatos said.

  "That I should let you out?" Amelia asked dryly. She resumed mashing the herbs.

  "Not quite so specific, though that would solve the problem. No. While it is nothing compared to what a Vawtrian feels when he is denied his viskaro for a time, Neyeb have their own responses. You need me as much as I need you. You miss me. You want to be close to me. Your elmis are telling you that you need to set all this aside and be reunited with me. And it would be for the best, viskaro. The only one who believes you aren't on our side is you. And even there, you are losing your conviction. All you have to do is open that door and this entire nightmare goes away."

  "And a new one begins." Amelia climbed up onto the table and angled her back against the edge of the door frame so that she could see both the hall leading to the dungeon and Naatos and his brothers' cell. A heavy stillness had come over her. She really didn't know what she was doing, and there was no place that left her feeling good. The itching pulse of her elmis made it harder to focus.

  "It doesn't have to be a nightmare for you," Naatos said.

  "There is no way that this is not a nightmare," Amelia responded. "I know what you're going to do."

  "It doesn't mean you have to watch." Naatos sounded almost soothing as he spoke.

  "Just stop talking." Amelia focused on her hands and the herbal compound she was making, even as her body grew stiffer and her elmis throbbed all the more.

  There was no way that she would ever let Naatos and his brothers out, and she had to remember that no matter how hard it got. Letting them out was absolutely wrong.

  7

  Prophetic Nightmares

  "Momma!" a terrified child screamed in the darkness.

  Shon turned, struggling to get his bearings. The chamber was dark, distorted so that no particular direction felt right.

  The child screamed again. This time its voice was clearer. He ran toward that voice but slowly as if he ran in a trough filled with wet sand.

  The terrified sobs continued.

  The walls lightened and then solidified as Shon burst into a wide room, the top of his head scraping the ceiling. This strange place sent a burst of terrified familiarity through him. A large slab table surrounded by walls of embedded shackles was to his left. Straight ahead was a large drop off with a lava pit below.

  A little girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes was chained to the far wall, the shackles fastened so tight they cut into her thin wrists. She trembled with fear, wincing away from the man who stood beside her. A strange glow that alternated between red, gold, blue, and white surrounded the man. His long blond hair reflected the colors yet hid his face. Though hard to fully see in this shifting light, he wore thick robes embroidered with gold and cobalt thread in ornate geometric patterns. But he did not even look at the child as he stared at the doorway, his hands spread before him as if cupping the air. "Keep calling for your mother, little one. She will be here soon enough."

  Shon went for his sword, but it had vanished. His tomarangs, bow, and quiver were likewise gone. He had nothing. Then it struck him: he was standing in the center of the room. The man hadn't seen him.

  Shon drew closer. The little girl continued to hiccup and sob hoarsely. He slid to his knees in front of her and reached for the shackles, but his hand passed right through them. The little girl dropped her chin to her chest as her knees buckled.

  Shon's throat tightened. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

  The light blurred around him, disorienting him further. When he opened his eyes, he was at the back of the room, facing the only entrance. He blinked, struggling to refocus.

  Then Amelia appeared, eyes raging, mouth snarling. The stranger laughed and flung his hands up. Lava sprang from his hands, steam rising and hissing as the molten rock struck the ground. Amelia leaped over it and flung an energized blade at him, bolts of electricity crackling along the edge.

  The stranger fell back, lifting his hand to his face with a sharp cry.

  Amelia pounced on him. Fire exploded from his hands, catching her in the face. She screamed and jerked back, almost falling off him. The room smelled of burning flesh, hair, and sulfur.

  Amelia unsheathed the short sword at her side and plunged it into his chest. Blood bubbled up and spilled over his torso.

  The stranger gasped, his face frozen in shock. Amelia stared down at him, panting for breath, tears rolling down her cheeks. "You failed," she whispered. "They're all safe." She pressed a button in the top of the sword, and it seemed to embed the point into the floor with a heavy shoonk, pinning him further.

  "Momma!" the child cried again.

  "I'm here, Kyrah. It's all right." Amelia hurried to the child as the man moaned, the pauses between his labored breaths increasing. Kneeling beside her, Amelia clutched the little girl close. Her hair fell over her face, sticking to the burns along her cheek, neck, and shoulder. "It's all right, baby." She caressed the little girl's cheek, wiping away the dirt and grime with a trembling hand. "Everything is going to be fine." She removed the keys from the slab above and unfastened each of the locks.

  Kyrah flung her arms around Amelia's neck. Amelia lifted her up, continuing to whisper reassurances as she started to leave the room.

  The stranger laughed faintly. "You failed too."

  Amelia held the child close. "No. Because she'll live. They'll all live."

  "You have minutes at most." The stranger sneered, his mouth red with blood, the light in his eyes fading.

  Amelia turned and ran into the hall.

  A heavy sense of familiar doom reached Shon. He knew this dream now. Another variation of the horror. He stayed in the chamber, knowing better than to follow her. Nausea sliced into his stomach like an acid blade. He didn't want to see this again.

  But the scene moved, dragging him with Amelia as she hurried down the hall with Kyrah in her arms. The stranger's rattling breaths remained in Shon's mind like a horrible countdown. Shon let his gaze search the cavern walls. Where was this happening? There had to be something to tell him more! He had to find some sort of clue. Anything! Amelia had to be warned of all this with as much specificity as possible. She always died here and because of this man. Either in the chamber with the lava or in the long hall leading out of it.

  But there was nothing to define this hall except for grey stone and dim light. No carvings. No layers or
obvious strata. No fungus or refuse. It could have been carved from stone or fashioned from what had once been a natural passage.

  Then Shon heard it. The slack release of the stranger's final breath.

  Amelia stopped short, swaying. She strangled a cry of pain, then sagged against the wall. "Run, Kyrah. Please." Barely able to set the child down, she dropped to her knees. Blood poured from her elmis.

  Kyrah's eyes widened. She covered her mouth, falling away with faltering steps. "Momma?"

  Amelia tried to wipe her hands. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Please, baby."

  Footsteps sounded, beating fast on the stone floor. "Amelia! Kyrah!" WroOth's voice echoed down the hall.

  "Here." Amelia fought to raise her voice. She tried to put her hand on Kyrah's shoulder, then let it fall away as Kyrah watched her with frightened eyes.

  "Momma, what's wrong?"

  Shon sank on the ground beside Amelia. He tried to put his arm around her, but it passed through her as if she were a bank of fog. Tears blurred his eyes. She was surrounded in a pool of blood now, her breaths growing heavier. Chialao's words poured through his mind, salt in his wounded heart. "If you die, then she dies. Now you've condemned her to death."

  WroOth ran into the hall. He stopped short when he saw Amelia, his face paling. "Amelia…"

  "Get Kyrah somewhere safe, please," Amelia gasped. She closed her eyes, drawing in a shaking breath. "I don't want her to see this."

  "No, I won't leave you!" Kyrah grabbed hold of her mother.

  "Kyrah." WroOth knelt beside the little girl, took her by the shoulders, and turned her to face him. "I need you to be very brave right now. Your father is at the end of the hall that way. I've just come down it, and I know it's safe. You'll come to a gate, and then you will need turn to the left. He will be right there. I want you to run to him as fast as you can. Call for him as you run. Tell him, 'it happened.' That's all. He'll know what to do."

  "I don't want to leave Momma." Kyrah tried to turn again, but WroOth kept his grip firm. Her voice shook.

  "I need you to show me how much you've grown up and do this. It is very, very important. I'll keep your momma safe. I promise. But she can't be left alone right now. So go. And don't look back." He gave her a firm shove. Kyrah hesitated, then ran, shouting for her father.

  "It isn't going to matter." Amelia fought to smile as the blood streamed down her face. Her skin had gone pale, made all the whiter by the thick crimson lines now flowing down it. "I killed him."

  "Of course you did, you wretched stubborn vespyr." WroOth supported her head, blinking back tears. "You couldn't have waited five minutes?"

  "He was going to kill Kyrah. You heard what he said. I barely got there in time. And he was so strong. It was all I could do."

  "I know." WroOth wiped the blood from her face with his sleeve and held her close. "But you can't stop fighting now. There's still a chance. I'm not ready to lose you too, dear heart."

  Shon turned away, unable to watch anymore. He knew what would happen. What always happened. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Where was he when she fought this man? Where did this happen? And when?

  He stared at the stone floor as the pool of blood slowly grew, seeping into every crack and crevice. Every imperfection in the floor was made apparent in the dark crimson flow. Amelia's labored breaths slowed.

  Shon covered his eyes, longing for the vision to end.

  A blast of cold struck his face.

  Shon stirred, smelling fresh air rather than the shallow dream scents of damp and dark. Light pressed against his vision. Dawn had come.

  Rolling onto his side, Shon gasped deep breaths. The warm light and cool air had never been so reassuring. But the nausea and grief remained, choking him with bile and fear. Sweat drenched his body.

  Sitting up, he leaned his hand against the wall. Yes, it was solid. Firm. Just as it should be. He was back in the real world.

  But Amelia was still going to die.

  The thoughts tumbled through Shon's mind like a storm. He flung the covers back and staggered to out of bed, the polished wooden floor like ice beneath his feet.

  He hurried across the room, not even taking the time to put on slippers. Amelia was going to die, unless he could find a way. And there was one solution, even if she might not want it.

  8

  Drugged

  Amelia paced along the dungeon hall, rubbing the inside of her arm and glancing over her shoulder. Nothing had gone according to plan. She'd spent the night sleeping on the table, ignoring Naatos's thinly veiled suggestions, AaQar's chastising comments, and WroOth's varying attempts to draw her out. Twice she had had to leave when her heart swelled, the perfect addition to a difficult day. It was too risky for Naatos to see. He might figure out Shon lived if he witnessed the effects of the split heart, and, while she wasn't sure how she was going to keep him from ever finding out, she didn't need that complication now.

  A couple hours before, Amelia made sure that a Machat guard stood at the entrance to the dungeon but hidden from sight. Then she went to tend to the animals and make breakfast.

  Kepsalon came to see her, providing her with updates of the plans, and informing her that while Vorec had become more sullen, he and his commanders no longer spoke against her as openly in the presence of the Machat. The Ayamin themselves were torn between loyalties, but an unsteady peace was somewhat established. More importantly, all but a few were to leave as soon as possible, Amelia and the former Paras included. Kepsalon told her that the Machat had brought down huanna so that the former Paras could be drugged and transported to the palace. To be effective, she had to significantly increase the dosage and burn the huanna in clay pots at least five feet from the cell.

  "You'll need to act as swiftly as you can," Kepsalon said. "This peace will not hold."

  "I know." Amelia adjusted her sleeves to cover the scars, weary but resigned. "I know." This plan bothered her, even though it was the best they could manage.

  Following Kepsalon's instructions precisely and ignoring WroOth's attempts to distract her, she set up the containers, lit the huanna, and left.

  Safely hidden from sight in the hall outside the dungeon, Amelia waited, nerves tense and mind rushing. The huanna smelled like damp weeds burning, giving off a light grey smoke that seeped into the hall and up the broad air shafts. Within three hours, the effects were obvious though not quite what she had hoped.

  Instead of falling unconscious, as they were supposed to, the brothers started singing, joking, and otherwise enjoying themselves. Disjointed snatches of songs floated to her ear. It sounded as if each one was singing a different verse of a song, perhaps not even the same song.

  "So what does a kookaburra want with a whippoorwill?"

  "So the besred ate the house."

  "Aging apples and attacking apes do not a happy labyrinth make."

  Amelia groaned, covering her face. She paused as silence followed. Had they fallen asleep? Oh, please, Elonumato, she prayed, let them have fallen asleep.

  Suddenly AaQar belted out, "Pass me my mandolin!" And the chaos resumed with all three singing obviously separate songs. One of them was beating a rhythm on the bars and the other used the floor and bench. To Amelia's knowledge, there was nothing in the cell that even came close to resembling a mandolin. She massaged her elmis, annoyed and yet slightly amused. If time wasn't so precious, this would have been funny. They sounded like enormous children in a backyard karaoke competition.

  "How are the former Paras?" Kepsalon strode alongside her, his hands clasped behind his back. He now wore fresh clothes—dark brown jerkin and beige tunic and trousers as usual. But his hair was neatly combed and tucked behind his ears, and his face was clean.

  "They're having a wonderful time." Amelia continued to rub her elmis. Her body ached from the tension that radiated from her core, but at least the her knuckles and hands were healing quickly. "How long before the huanna puts them to sleep?"

  Kepsalon paused, listening. A sligh
t smile played at his thin lips. He tapped his finger against his cheek. "They are far more resilient than anticipated."

  "You think? How long before they're unconscious?"

  "From the sounds of it, at least another hour or so. But we should leave as soon as possible. We've prepared a wagon to transport them, but we have to get them up the staircase and outside without any further casualties."

  "They sound fairly friendly at the moment, but I don't know how long that's going to last." Amelia peered around the corner.

  All three were seated on the floor. AaQar made shadow puppets with his hands while WroOth stumbled over the words of a tongue-twisting song. Naatos laughed so hard no sound came from his mouth but tears streamed down his cheeks.

  "There's one way to find out. Given our history, WroOth should want nothing more than to kill me." Kepsalon motioned for her to follow as he entered the dungeon.

  Amelia did. As soon as Naatos saw her, his face brightened. "Viskaro." He rose. "You've returned." He smiled, swaying before catching his balance on the metal bars. "I knew you couldn't stay away for long."

  "How are you feeling right now?" Amelia kept her arms crossed. Because her clothes had been bloodstained, she had changed that morning, and it was only now that she realized the neckline came a little lower than she liked. Her cleavage remained covered so long as her forearm stayed up.

  "I would be feeling far better if you were to join me in here." Naatos leaned against the bars, not seeming to notice Kepsalon. "I want to do things to you."

  "Very articulate." Amelia stepped back. "What's seven times eighteen?"

  "One hundred twenty-six." Naatos frowned slightly. "What does that have to do with anything? Is it the number of hours you plan to make me wait before we feshtashoon?"

  He didn't even pause at the calculation. Amelia rechecked the number in her own mind. He was right. Clearly he was still sharp. Too sharp. In fact, he seemed a little steadier after answering that. "It's really important that we get you three moved to another location. I'm not sure if this will do any good, but will you at least promise not to kill anyone who comes in there?"