Angie sighed. “In all the chaos, I’d forgotten about that bastard.”
I hadn’t. As soon as I’d swept that blade across Pandora’s neck and felt her crumble to dust beneath me, his image had crept into my thoughts. Orion was the omnipresent axe, threatening to fall at any moment if we set a foot out of line. Killing his lover was a big step over that line.
“Be careful what you wish for,” I whispered, drawing looks of confusion. Even so, I didn’t elaborate. We’d wanted Pandora out of the way, and now that she was, we didn’t know what to do about it. I doubted we’d ever truly thought she’d die. I certainly hadn’t—I’d envisioned a clear glass cell, the kind you always see villains trapped in, in the movies, and her pacing back and forth, mulling over her revenge. My hatred for her had been intense, but I’d never imagined it would be my hand that ended her life.
It stood to reason that Orion would eventually find out Pandora was dead, but I fervently hoped it would take him a long time. Moreover, I prayed he never discovered our role in her demise. If he did, there would be no place we could hide, and no offer of blood or intel big enough to prevent him from killing the people we loved.
By killing Pandora, I realized I had painted an even bigger target on the backs of Roger and Jean, and the parents of my dearest friends. If I had understood that, in the moment, would I have gone through with it? I honestly didn’t know, but that didn’t matter now. What was done, was done; there was no way to rewind.
Then, there was Queen Brisha to think about. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to her finding out, either, although I was pretty sure it would be easier to convince the queen that it had been an accident. After all, she had no reason to believe we’d harm Pandora, given that she didn’t know where Pandora’s true loyalty lay. It also meant that Pandora’s reputation wouldn’t be tarnished in the eyes of the queen. Brisha would never know that Pandora was a traitor. Well, not unless we needed to tell her about it all, anyway.
“We can come up with a suitable lie to cover our asses, if we need to. Now that we have the space to think, we’ll have no problem putting Orion off the scent,” Lauren insisted, her tone comfortingly confident.
“I hope you’re right,” I replied, my tone still devoid of emotion.
Cambien cleared his throat. “After the events of today, I think you all deserve the rest of the day to recuperate,” he insisted. “Perhaps you should all return to your lodges, eat well, and get some rest.”
“Excellent idea, oh gracious leader,” Bashrik enthused.
The only way to our lodges was through the temple, and though I didn’t really want to set foot in there again, I knew I had to. Cambien guided us through the walkways, careful to pick a route that skirted around the prayer hall, where so many dead bodies lay scattered.
Navan kept close to me, with Cambien walking just ahead and the others trailing behind. There was a lot I still wanted to ask Cambien, but I couldn’t while Navan was there. I didn’t feel like I could bring him into the event Cambien and I had faced without forcing myself to think about it.
Five minutes later, Bashrik called Navan forward to help move a pillar that had fallen across the path. Casting a worried glance back at me, he ran to assist, though Cambien remained where he was.
“What will happen to the dead?” I asked, prompting Cambien to turn as we came to a halt on the unfamiliar walkway. The prayer hall was far off to the other side of the temple; it was why Cambien had brought us this way.
“We will honor them with funeral pyres and sacred rituals, and their souls will be released on the flames of their ancestors,” he replied solemnly. “They will not be forgotten.”
“What about Freya? What will she do now?”
“I will speak with her once I’ve delivered you all to your lodges,” Cambien said. “There is much the two of us need to discuss, though I believe she’s still in the prayer hall, leading her congregation in sorrowful readings.”
“I couldn’t believe that people weren’t running… It was like they were in a trance. I had to shake them out of it. Even then, so many refused to move,” I whispered, some life returning to my voice.
After a moment of silence, Cambien spoke again, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Riley, I am entirely in your debt. What you did for us was immeasurably brave, and I pray that it does not haunt you, though I fear it will. I am only sorry I could not have taken your place.”
I gave a weary shrug. “It couldn’t have fallen to anyone else, in the moment. It’s what had to be done to ensure you get to live on your home planet, in the peace and harmony you all deserve.”
“I wish it didn’t involve more killing, but I know it must,” Cambien replied. “I trust your group will stay true to the deal that was struck, and that Navan will do what he promised?”
I nodded. “We’ll fulfil our part of the bargain. Otherwise, none of this means anything.”
“I am sorry it has to be this way,” Cambien repeated, just as Navan returned.
“Is there a chance Navan and Bashrik can still be bitten by your insects, since some of them are running wild?” I asked, remembering that Bashrik had been infected at the hot springs, near our lodges. If we needed to be wary, I wanted to know about it.
Cambien shook his head. “After you came to me with Bashrik, I sent out a few of my scouts to track down the errant insects in this part of Zai. The area has been cleared. Besides, as Bashrik has already been infected, he can’t be infected again.”
“Thank you, Cambien. At least we know we can sleep easy before tomorrow.” I sighed, the prospect of it weighing heavy.
We said no more of the future mission as we continued through the temple, heading for our lodgings in the jungle clearing. Cambien didn’t come with us all the way, stopping at the palm-lined path that led there. I presumed he was headed to Freya, as promised, now that the trouble was over, though he stayed to watch us for a while longer. It was only when I turned, at the bottom of the path that cut through the jungle, that I noticed he’d vanished.
Upon reaching the wooden lodges, the five of us came to an awkward stop.
“Well, I’m going to head to the hot springs, see if I can work out some of these stress knots,” Bashrik said, making his way toward the side path. “Anyone want to join me?”
Angie looked at him shyly. “I could do with a soak,” she said, walking toward him.
Lauren, meanwhile, looked torn between giving her friend the private time she evidently desired and not being left alone in her lodge. I felt like I wanted to offer up my services, to have a girly evening in with Lauren, but I wasn’t going to be particularly good company. In the end, Angie made the decision for her.
“If you think you’re going to mope around your lodge, you’re sadly mistaken!” she reprimanded our bespectacled friend. “You’re coming with us.”
Lauren smiled. “If you insist.”
“Navan, Riley, you joining us?” Bashrik asked.
Navan glanced down at me. “You want to? It might be good to take your mind off things,” he encouraged, but I shook my head.
“Not just yet,” I whispered.
“Okay, there’s no rush,” he murmured, putting a comforting arm around my shoulders. “We’ll catch up with you in a bit!” he called to the others, before leading me up the steps to our lodge.
Once inside, he sat me down on the edge of the bed and pulled the blanket tighter across me. Leaving me there, staring into space, he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a large basin of water and a small pile of clean flannels. From the way that steam was drifting off the liquid, I knew it was warm.
Without saying a word, he knelt in front of me and dipped the first of the flannels into the warm water. Taking my hand in his, he dabbed away the blood spatters that covered my skin, starting with each finger, before turning over to my palm, making sure he got into every little line and crevice, washing away the stains of what I’d done. In silence, he worked, wringing out the dirty cloths every so ofte
n. The water turned a pale shade of bluish-gray as the blood mingled with the water. I let him do it. The warm flannel was comforting as it brushed up my arms.
When it came to the blood that streaked my face, he picked up a fresh flannel.
“How do you do it, and stay sane?” I asked suddenly, taking him by surprise. “The way you killed Jethro—it was no more to you than if you’d popped the head off a daisy or split a block of wood in two. How can you kill so easily?”
Brushing away the blood on my face, he began to speak. “It’s not easy for me. Killing another living being should never be easy,” he explained. “You might be surprised to hear this, but Jethro still haunts me. I think about him often, and I think it’s important to. It should never become trivial. Once it does, you have crossed a line into psychopathy. There are many Vysantheans like that, but it is what separates the likes of me, Bashrik, Ronad, and many others, from Pandora, Orion, Ezra, and countless coldbloods like them.”
“I feel like a monster,” I admitted, the emotions creeping back through my veins, little by little, the walls coming down.
“You said you could never think of me as a monster, and I’ve hurt far more people than you,” he said softly, a trickle of pink water meandering from my face onto my hands. “You are brave and fierce, and you did what you had to. You are not a monster.”
“How do you stop thinking about it?” I whispered. Even now, Pandora’s final expression was replaying in my head. She’d never seen it coming. Even in that last second, she hadn’t expected me to do it.
“Coldbloods and humans are raised differently. Guilt, remorse, sorrow—they are all compartmentalized in coldblood minds, so they don’t interfere with the everyday,” he replied. “They’re seen as indulgent feelings, and something to be frowned upon. For that reason, our moral compasses are a little askew, compared to yours.”
“I suppose that’s why your species is as successful as it is at universal domination,” I mused. If they had no remorse, or guilt, or sorrow, then there was nothing stopping them from taking out an entire species of people just to gain an advantage of territory or resources.
“It’s why I’m so ashamed now that I showed that violent side of myself to you when we first met. It’s how coldbloods control, manipulate, and instill fear in other species. It’s all we’ve ever been taught, and I hate that I scared you, using everything I hate about my people,” he said bitterly.
“You’re not so bad now,” I murmured, gazing into his eyes as he dabbed away the last of the blood.
He smiled wryly. “I just wish there were more coldbloods who could see that violence and death aren’t always the answer. For once, I would love to see a Vysanthe that was united over more than war and fear and didn’t feel the need to destroy others in the name of superiority. That would be something to be proud of.”
I thought about the three coldblood factions, knowing they wouldn’t bat an eyelid at having to take out an aggressor. I mean, two sisters were on the brink of war, and they didn’t seem too fazed about having to kill for their honor. If they were the figureheads of a nation, that showed a warped moral compass indeed.
“Do you ever think killing someone can be justified?” I wondered.
Navan put down the damp flannel and took my hands in his. “What you did today was necessary and justified in that necessity. You saved the lives of countless others, and many more that she might have killed in the future.” He paused, lifting one hand to my face. “However, even when a killing is justified, that doesn’t mean you’ll sleep any better at night, or stop seeing their face when you close your eyes.”
“Does it get better?”
He nodded. “The image will fade, I promise, and you’ll never have to do that again.”
I looked at him but didn’t dare to say what was on my mind. He couldn’t promise me that. We were in a universe of chaos and destruction, with dangerous people on our tails. No way we were going to get through this without some sort of fight.
Killing Pandora had taught me one thing: if I had to kill someone else to protect the lives of innocents, I would.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following morning, rested and refreshed, we set out for Mount Kusuburi to rendezvous with Cambien. Navan had run back to the Vanquish just after dawn to pick up weapons for the job we had to do today, returning with two guns and a knife. He tried to hide them from me, no doubt wondering if they’d trigger my memories of the previous day, but there was only so much he could do to keep them out of my sight.
As we walked, I could feel the worried eyes of my friends on me, most likely thanks to the dark circles under my eyes. After talking with Navan, I’d felt much better, but I still hadn’t slept very well. It was just as he’d warned. All through the night, I’d jolted awake to the memory of what I’d done, only settling once Navan’s arms wrapped around me, his soothing voice whispering me back to sleep. Just having him there was helping some of the numbness and anguish fade away, returning me to a more normal version of myself. I’d never be exactly the same again, but I was more Riley than zombie today, thanks to his care through the night.
“How were the hot springs?” I asked, desperately wanting to break the uneasy silence that stretched across the group.
Angie smiled, flashing a conspiratorial look at Bashrik. “Steamy.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “A little too steamy. I was glad my glasses kept fogging up.”
“Bash?” Navan remarked expectantly, his brother surprisingly tight-lipped on the matter.
“It is Draconian law to uphold a woman’s honor. I’m not sure all this suggestive talk is appropriate. I behaved like a perfect gentleman,” he insisted, at last, prompting my two best friends to collapse into raucous laughter. It was like a storm breaking after days of heavy, humid skies, full of the prospect of rain. It felt good to smile.
Angie slipped her arm through Bashrik’s. “We’re just teasing you. You were too gentlemanly, if you ask me,” she said with a wink.
The lighter atmosphere remained as we paused by the edge of the valley, where the Draconians were still dutifully hauling enormous slabs of metal and crates of supplies into the biremes. It made me wonder if Freya had any faith in us at all, considering they were still making preparations for a departure we’d promised they wouldn’t have to endure. Even the near destruction of their holy site hadn’t halted them for long, presumably by Freya’s orders.
“How are you feeling about the opaleine reversal?” I asked Bashrik, wondering which way his moral compass was turning, given his newly imagined ties to Zai and the Draconian way of life. If he was upholding their rules on restrained propriety, I could only imagine his thoughts on killing a group of living beings.
Bashrik frowned. “If our gracious commander, the glorious Cambien, has permitted it, then who am I to argue? Naturally, I feel sorry for Navan, that it’s all resting on his shoulders.” He sighed.
“You’re not going to help?” Angie pressed, her tone surprised.
Bashrik shook his head. “I won’t be able to join in, in case I permanently corrupt the opaleine. I am Draconian, and so I can’t involve myself in any of the killings. If I do, I could risk the stone staying that way.”
I wondered if a whack to the head might knock him out of his Draconian delusion. From the look on Angie’s face, I could see she was thinking the same thing.
“I’ll be fine on my own, as long as we move through the coldbloods at a steady pace,” Navan assured us, though the prospect worried me. So much death and destruction wasn’t an easy thing to participate in, and I didn’t want him to be stuck with the memory of every single coldblood face.
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
He didn’t meet my eye. “I’m going to have to be. Ready to fly?”
I nodded. I was always eager to fly in Navan’s arms, even though it made me miss the freedom of flight. Something about having my own wings had made me feel closer to Navan, like we were on a level playing field. Althoug
h, after what I’d done yesterday, I was beginning to worry that I was becoming too much like a coldblood.
With Bashrik gripping Angie and Lauren, the five of us took to the skies, heading for the volcano in the distance. Wisps of gray smoke rose from the crater like a signal, calling us in. It felt nice to have the wind rushing through my hair again, the breeze caressing my tired face, nipping my dull complexion back to life. It was just the invigoration I needed after a sleepless night.
Cambien was waiting for us in the petrified village. But he wasn’t alone.
A ring of people had surrounded the frozen statues, their hands locked with their neighbors’, keeping the circle closed. Freya was there, leading the ring of Lunists in a whispered prayer that echoed on the breeze, while a reluctant Ginji watched us land.
“As you can see, we have visitors,” Cambien said as we walked up to him, his voice dripping sarcasm.
At his words, Freya broke away from the circle, moving in our direction, her sapphire robes flowing behind her. Effortlessly, the Lunists closed the gap, continuing their soft mantra, undeterred by our presence.
“Welcome,” Freya said softly, dipping low in a graceful bow. Her face was as calm and serene as ever, showing no sign of trauma after what had happened in her temple while she led those poor souls in prayer. I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive her for that. When she should have been encouraging them to run, she’d made them stay with her voice and her words.
Cambien seemed agitated with her, too. “I cannot believe you’re here, Freya. I really cannot believe you’re here,” he muttered.
“We will not move,” she replied, irking him further.
His amber eyes narrowed. “A coldblood just tried to kill you and managed to massacre more than a handful of our people, and you still insist on protecting them. I think that Hell’s Breath damaged your brain when you let it scar your face.”
Hotbloods 4: Venturers Page 21
