by Emma Hamm
He appeared to be surprised, but not overly. This man had seen a female Beastkin before.
“You are Jabbar?” she asked.
“I am.”
“And you lead the male Beastkin of Bymere?”
“I lead all Beastkin of Bymere.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “There are no females left in our lands. And if there are, then they have already been lost to us.”
She looked him over with a critical gaze. He wore a simple leather jerkin, loose pants similar to her own, both the color of sand. He’d been hiding for a very long time, she assumed. Even their clothing blended into the place where they lived.
He was a handsome man. His face was shaped like those in Wildewyn, bold and stocky with hard edges and deep planes. Pink eyes reflected a familiar determination. Strange how she saw so much of Wildewyn in this man.
“It sounds as though you have already accepted defeat, Jabbar of Bymere.” She waited for an angry response, but did not receive one. He was a still pool and had clearly been trained just as she had.
“I ask your definition of defeat, drakon. Is defeat when we have all died? Or is it when the few remaining live out their lives in safety?”
She didn’t have an answer to that question. Her heart said defeat was only when they all lay dying on a battlefield, incapable of fighting for a moment longer. But her head said these men deserved to live out their lives without fear of being hunted.
This man was perhaps smarter than she gave him credit for. She nodded, “A wise choice then.”
“It’s the only place we’ve found safe enough.”
“Do all assassins coming out of Falldell have a drop of Beastkin blood in them?”
“Perhaps some do, though most are entirely human. They would be hunted just as we are.”
“A shame.” She looked at the small crowd of men and smiled. “Bymere would benefit from Beastkin warriors. I’ve found their soldiers lacking.”
An appreciative laugh lifted from the crowd, and she noted that the leopard shifted back into a man. He was a lithe creature, caramel skin stretching over an abundance of muscles. A beautiful beast, both as an animal and as a man.
Camilla watched him with rapt attention, and Sigrid wondered how long it would take for the man to fall in love with her. She had a way with beasts. He didn’t stand a chance.
Jabbar visibly relaxed in front of her, although she didn’t know what she’d done to ease his tension. He swept into a low bow. “It’s an honor to host one of your house. Shall we call you sultana?”
Gods, the word made her uncomfortable. She shook her head. “Sister will do just fine.”
“Then it is with a welcome heart we bring you to our home. One cannot be too careful when someone is arriving from the Red Palace. Our people were hunted by an order from within those walls.”
“I wish to hear the entire story.” Even though it already made her heart crack in her chest.
Was it Nadir who had ordered his own people to be hunted until their numbers were this small? How could he have done such a thing? She understood that he felt no connection with them. It would be hard when he hadn’t been raised within the ranks of their people. But some part of him had to feel guilty. Taking the lives of other Beastkin was equal to killing a part of themselves.
The crowd of men parted like a wave when Jabbar motioned for her to follow him. Camilla joined her and together they walked towards the single opening that led into the buried city. Twin carved elephants marked what used to be the gates of this ancient city. One of them had a crack running down the center of its face. Considering she could touch one’s eye, these must have been monoliths buried beneath the sand.
“What is this place?” she asked.
Jabbar walked ahead of her and lifted his arms. “This was once the home to thousands of Beastkin.”
“Is it not dangerous to remain in the place where you once lived?”
“No one would ever think that we would come back here. This is where it all started.” He pressed a pale hand to a wall, trailing his fingers along the cracked sandstone. “Blood once coated these walls. Fallen heroes and those who fought for our right to remain alive. It seems only right that we fill the halls with the remaining souls of the Beastkin.”
“There are many still in Wildewyn.”
“And do they live in fear of death?”
Sigrid could almost feel the cold rush of anger that passed through every man that followed them. The city path disappeared underneath the sands before them, but she could feel their rage sinking deep into the earth.
They were more connected to each other here. She could almost feel their heartbeats, the age old anger and rage that had nowhere else to go. It was a heady feeling, knowing that so many men waited here while her own people had no idea they existed.
Jabbar stooped through a window and gestured for them to follow him.
“No,” she replied. “They don’t live in fear that they will die, but they are caged. Our people are split into three groups, and then split even further to remain with the royal Earthen folk who provide for us. Our lives are comfortable, but we are still valued pets more than we are people.”
She crouched to get through the window and followed him down a dimly lit hall. Fire reached for her as she walked down the passage. Sconces were the only thing that cast light, but thankfully her eyes saw far more than a usual human.
Camilla made a noise beside her and pointed down a hall where a small cluster of men leaned against the wall. They were sick. Sigrid could smell the cloying bitterness of illness that wafted from the room and made her cough.
“Living in the desert is difficult,” Jabbar called out. “There are many things here that make it hard on our people.”
“I can see that. If it’s so hard to live here, why do you remain?”
“This is our home. Where else would we go?”
“To Wildewyn. We would take you in. It would have eased the minds of many to know that there were Beastkin men here.”
Jabbar set his shoulder against a door stuck in place by the sand and shoved it open. They walked into a small room where a fire crackled happily in the center. Smoke stains blackened the ceiling and streaked the walls, but it was large enough to house the lot of them.
Some of the men following them flopped onto the piles of sands in the corners. Others pulled rugs closer to the fire and crouched there. It seemed as though they might have their own hierarchy. Those with higher ranks were allowed close to the flames. Those without, remained in the shadows.
She frowned. Beastkin took care of each other. They should be alternating people around the fire, allowing the ill to be there longer.
These people were her own, but not. A warning sounded in her mind as the drakon inside her reared up again. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the Beastkin she knew and loved.
Jabbar gestured at a rug closest to the flames. “For our honored guests.”
Sigrid made her way to the fireplace and sat, but she kept her posture stiff and her hands carefully loose on her knees. She didn’t know if she could trust these men who were clearly influenced by Bymere. These weren’t her people, although she longed for them to be just like the women she’d left in Wildewyn.
“We cannot go to Wildewyn,” Jabbar began. “How would we get past the guards? There is an entire army between us and the Edge of the World. Not to mention the descent. Few of our people can fly.”
“Can you?” The words blurted off her tongue before she could catch them. “I have yet to know what you are, Jabbar of Bymere.”
“Hardly as impressive as you.” He stood in front of the fireplace, close enough that she could have touched him if she wished. Placing an arm on its cracked mantle, he blew out a breath. “But, there are not many ancients among us anymore. It’s good to know I’m not alone.”
“You’re not drakon,” she replied.
“No, but we are not creatures who roam this earth.” A bitter smile crossed his face, and he shoved hi
mself away from the mantle. “My beast is a thunderbird. I roam the skies just as you. The clouds obey my beck and call, thunder and lightning at the tips of my wings.”
She nodded in recognition of the hidden words underneath the explanation. “Then you have not flown in a very long time.”
“My wings have been clipped in this war.”
Sigrid understood the root of his anger. They all longed to be free. To fly through the skies as they were meant to do, to allow those to see them as beasts of legend. No human should be afraid of a dragon or a thunderbird. They should revere them and ask for their assistance when needed.
She stared down at her clenched fists. “How long have you been hiding?”
“My entire life. My father was the first to bring men to this abandoned place. He kept us safe as long as he could, but we lost him a few years ago in yet another battle. I have continued his work. Bringing all Beastkin men I can find to a haven in the sands.”
“Are there more of you?”
“Hundreds. All spread out over Bymere. It is a fraction of what we once were, but it’s more than the Bymerians know of. Some move here when they can, under the cover of night and with our protection. Others remain in their homes.”
“Homes?” She couldn’t imagine what they must go through, knowing that they had to hide every aspect of themselves from those who loved them. Her heart suddenly ached. She did know what that was like. She was married to such a man.
“Beastkin men can still marry, hide the affliction their child inherits, and continue to deny that we exist at all.” Jabbar’s fists closed, but he still gestured at the leopard man. “Malik leads them here if their safety is threatened.”
She looked over to the man he had gestured to. He was stronger than the others, broad in the shoulders and stood with a warrior’s stance.
“You’ve killed humans?” she asked.
“Many.”
“In protection of our people?”
“Sometimes.”
She didn’t like the hard edge to his voice, and recognized the tang of bloodlust. Not that she blamed them. Sigrid knew what it was like to wish to break the chains that captured her. She’d wanted it her entire life, but was held back by the ancient songs in her veins. Wildewyn Beastkin knew what the loss of life meant.
It seemed the Bymerian Beastkin did not share the same thoughts.
“We cannot kill humans,” she implored. “It will only continue this ancient battle, and there is no place for fighting. We can work together now. I am sultana. Certainly, there is some change I can assist with.”
“That’s why I wished to bring you here.” Jabbar caught her gaze and held it. She saw anger in their cold depths, but also a sadness that she felt echoed in her own soul. “Our people are dying. They are hungry, afraid, sick. There’s nothing more I can do for them. But you are sultana.”
“What would you have me do?”
“War.”
The word made her flinch back. “War with whom?”
“Bymere. Be true to who you are. Let them see that Beastkin are not just cattle and fowl. That we are strong beasts that could rend them with tooth and claw. Let them understand that a sultana sits on the throne who could destroy the entire capital. And then let us fight for the rights we desire.”
“What will war accomplish?” Firelight danced over their faces marred with years of anger and rage. “Death cannot beget anything but more death.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. We have seen what these Bymerians can do. We’ve felt their swords running through our bodies and the sting of their whips on our backs for centuries. The Beastkin will no longer take this treatment without returning it in kind.”
Jabbar knelt in front of her, and she realized that they had somehow made her the hope of all their people. His hands reached for hers. She didn’t flinch when he lifted her fingers and pressed them to his cheeks.
“Sultana,” he murmured. “You will lead our people to war, and you will help us win.”
“I am not a weapon for you to wield.”
“I don’t ask to wield your great power, dragoness. I ask for you to wield it yourself. Become the warrior goddess we have prayed for and bring about the age of Beastkin.”
She couldn’t be that person. She couldn’t return to her husband knowing that she was going to betray him.
The Bymerians were a strange folk, but they didn’t deserve to die. Her mind flicked through all the faces she’d seen in her travels. The little girl on the street who had shown her kindness. Raheem, who had helped her connect with her husband in a way she hadn’t thought possible. Even the loyalties of the concubines to the first wife who still refused to speak with her.
Sigrid was about to shake her head, to tell him that his plan was impossible, when a racket from the hall made all the men stiffen and turn towards the door.
A boy burst through, chest heaving and sweat slicking his dark skin. “Jabbar! There are more, they come from the sands!”
The albino man immediately stood, yanking Sigrid up with him. “Now you will see,” he said. “You will see how they arrive.”
He did not release her hand as he raced back through the dark halls. She found herself dragged along with him, terrified of what she was about to see. Would this change the entire foundation of the world as she understood it? Were these men really as mistreated as Jabbar made them sound?
He didn’t pause to help her through the window, only yanked so hard she nearly fell before he thrust her in front of him and pointed through the elephant gates.
“Do you see?” Desperation laced his words. “Do you see them? This is why we must help them.”
And she did. She saw every emaciated inch of the men shambling towards them like the undead. Beastkin raced past her to help their brothers who stumbled. Some sank to their knees when they saw their own kin. Others became even more determined to reach the doors of this place hidden underneath the sand.
What had they done to these people?
“We have to help them,” Jabbar implored. “They are dying, we are dying, and there is nothing more I can do. You are the Sultana of all Bymere.”
“Second wife.”
“But still a sultana. You are not a concubine, Sigrid of Wildewyn. It is your right, your place, to help your people no matter how much it costs you.”
She realized in that moment that she had forgotten her place. She was a royal now, as Nadir had said. A sultana wasn’t just a woman. She was a figurehead for her people and the voice of reason in every way possible.
Forgetting this had already cost her too much.
She swallowed and pushed away from Jabbar’s hold.
“Sultana—” His words trailed off as he realized she wasn’t leaving. She made her way to the emaciated men and caught hold of the first one who reached her.
His ribs were like daggers against her palm, his cheeks so sunken that she likely wouldn’t have recognized him were he whole. “Thank you, brother,” he said, then stilled when he noticed the long tail of her golden braid.
“Sister,” she corrected. “Come, let me help you.”
He let her shoulder most of his weight. His feet were bleeding from the journey, bare to the elements as they were. There were holes in his shirt and pants that revealed lash marks. Each wound was swollen and yellowed with infection.
She kept herself still and did not flinch when he traced a finger down the side of her face. “Female?”
“There is much to tell you, my brother.”
“But we’re the only ones left.”
She looked into his confused gaze and a piece inside her heart shifted. These men weren’t just Bymerians, and they certainly weren’t her people, but they needed her help. She couldn’t leave them here alone. It didn’t matter who was hunting them, or why. This would stop the moment she made her way back to the palace.
Nadir had to listen to her. He wasn’t an unreasonable man. And even though he hated the beast inside himself, he had enjoyed letti
ng it out with her. He’d watched the sunset above the clouds and she knew he’d felt pride. She’d felt the same emotion in her own chest.
He would listen to her words because he had to. There was no other option for them.
She reached Jabbar’s side and handed the man off to him. The pale man held the other up without issue, and his eyes remained on her, waiting for a sign.
“I will speak with the sultan,” she said. Her eyes found Camilla. “Stay here with them. Help if you can.”
Jabbar shook his head. “It won’t do any good to speak with the sultan. He follows in his brother’s footsteps where hatred walked.”
“He won’t have a choice but to listen to me.” And with that said, she let her human form melt away and a drakon shot from the abandoned palace and into the night sky.
Nadir
Nadir stood in the center of his private quarters, hands limp at his side, wondering what he had done for the world to punish him so thoroughly. He was a good man. He’d done everything that his brother had requested and more. The ancient rituals were followed, his kingdom prospered. And yet, he still felt as though he wasn’t doing enough.
Didn’t his advisors tell him every day that his name would go down in history as a benevolent king? Didn’t his people lay red poppies at his feet when he walked through the city? What more could he want?
He didn’t have an answer for that. An empty hole had opened in his chest, and he didn’t know how to fill it. Or what to fill it with.
His private quarters were filled with opulence. The walls were painted with molten gold, reflecting hazy images like a mirror. Red curtains hung from the ceiling to surround his bed. A mound of red silk pillows and dark crimson rugs piled high for his comfort. A dark oak desk in the corner was drowning beneath papers and maps.
Two pools graced the corners opposite his bed. One with aquatic plants and fish swimming in the depths, the other home to a stone woman who poured water from a vase. The sound of burbling water, rare in Bymere, lulled him to sleep.
The most beautiful and most expensive items in all the kingdom decorated his walls. And yet, this entire place felt like a prison.
