by Aimee Moore
He brushed a thumb across my cheek. “And I, yours. You have always had Kraw strength of spirit, Sera, I know that we can do this.”
“Then let’s do it,” I whispered. It was time to make my crime known. To be the very thing I feared so I could destroy the leyline. To betray my race further than I ever could have imagined. It was time to take the biggest risk of my life.
“Bring me the bitch's head,” I said.
✽✽✽
I strode into Patroma's throne room, my fingers tangled in the warm, strong braids on her scalp as I held her dripping head in front of me. Blood splashed my boots as I walked, and the war hounds lapped at it, their spines knocking together in their anxiousness.
I forced myself not to look or feel, not to remember the look on the face I held in front of me. I didn’t know, as I held my tormentor’s head in front of me, that she would one day become more than a talisman to me. That her memory would fester in ways I had never imagined. But still, as I marched forward, thinking the scalp under my fingertips the last I would know of her, every footfall brought me closer to the antithesis of all that was Seraphine.
Dal lumbered behind me, dressed in war leathers like all the other Kraw, wielding the black blade he had taken from Patroma's quarters.
The male Kraw that had talked to me like a dog startled at my appearance.
“What is this?” He roared to Dal.
Patroma would know exactly what to do. I brought her essence to the front of my mind, picturing her superior smirk and her cruel confidence. I raised my chin and spoke in a deadly voice.
“You will address me first above all others,” I said in Kraw.
The Kraw let out a harsh breath, hatred blazing from his eyes. “You are a worm,” he drew his weapon, “and I will kill the filth who has betrayed the Eyes and the Ears of the Warlord!”
The Kraw charged at me, and I threw Patroma's head in the dirt and threw my palms out before me. A blast of fire exploded from my hands when they met, slamming into the Kraw and sending him sprawling backward.
He howled and covered his burnt face as the smell of cooked leather and skin filled the air. I marched over to him, digging my small fist into his knot of hair, bringing his glistening red face to mine with every ounce of strength I possessed.
“I am now the Eyes and the Ears of the Warlord, and you will do my bidding or suffer the consequences of your traitorous actions.” And with that, I shoved him into the dirt and marched over to Patroma's throne, ascending it, letting out a shaking breath before turning to sit upon it.
I cast a neutral look at Dal, who raised his chin at me in respect.
The Kraw I had injured collected himself and stood, facing me with a smattering of dirt turned mud on the glistening red of his burnt face. His breathing was labored, the bulging muscles of his arms quivering with rage.
“What does the Eyes and the Ears of the Warlord wish to be called,” he said with a snarl.
“Seraphine. Your new task is to bring all inquiries to Dal first, and then to me. Is that understood?” I leaned forward with menace.
“I do nothing for traitors.” The Kraw snarled.
I lit my hand on fire, casting a bored look at the Kraw. “What is your name, maggot?”
The Kraw straightened, breathing fast through his nose. “Juk,” he answered in his strong voice.
I shook my head. “You didn't hear me. Your name is Maggot.”
The angry Kraw forced the words out while watching flame dance on my hand. “I am Maggot.”
I continued. “Dal's crimes are between himself and the Warlord, and until the Warlord arrives to address them, Dal will serve me in whatever capacity I see fit. You have defied me a second time today, Maggot, and this will be the last time I pardon your insolence.”
Maggot gave a small nod. “Yes, Seraphine.”
I extinguished my fire and waved a bored hand. “Go. Bring me every leader in this filthy camp. Tell them that the new Eyes and Ears of the Warlord, Seraphine, demands their allegiance or they will burn.”
Maggot began to leave, and I stopped him. “Maggot. Bring Patroma's head with you. Make sure they see it.”
Maggot stopped mid stride. He took a deep breath and turned to pick up the dripping head of Patroma, as surprised to be in the hands of her peon as she was to be killed. Maggot disappeared with it, and I let out a large sigh of relief to have it gone. In the silence of the large tent, I put my head in my shaking hand.
“I don't know if I can do this, Dal,” I said in my language.
Dal stood next to my tall throne, speaking in quiet tones. “You are singing a song to which you do not know the words, but you are carrying the tune,” he said.
I raised my head and looked down at him. “This is all going to tumble down like a house of cards,” I whispered.
“Cards,” Dal said, inquiry in his tone.
It was easy for me to forget that some words in my language had simply never crossed Dal's ears before. After I had explained, Dal gave a nod and fixed me with a thoughtful look. “Your cards are balanced and shall withstand the breath of disdainful whispers. Already, you are thinking like a war chief.”
Voices sounded outside the tent, loud, surprised, and we both turned toward them, though no one entered.
“You must not speak in your language in front of them unless there is no other alternative,” Dal said.
“Why not?”
Dal glanced up at me. “I learned your tongue merely by listening to you. I do not wish the rest of my people to have access to your language, should we need the secrecy of it.”
I gave a nod. “Very well.”
More voices, louder, chain and steel, fast and heavy footfalls.
“Dal, how many people are coming?” I whispered.
“No more than fifteen of our number will be leaders of varying aspects of this war camp. They will challenge you because it is the Kraw way. Do not bend. Kill if you must.”
I let out a heavy breath, stilling my shaking hands. I didn’t know if I could keep this act strong in front of fifteen angry Kraw, or whether I could defeat all of their challenges at once. But I had to try.
“Dal. You must teach me to handle a sword,” I whispered.
“We shall see.”
Within minutes, disheveled, scowling Kraw began to filter in around the pyre, Dal keeping them at distance from me despite their insults. I recognized Chatska immediately, but the rest were foreign. Maggot came in last, standing behind them with his arms crossed, his face still oozing from his burns. Regret lanced through me, and I did my best to shove it aside.
This was the way things had to be. One Kraw's face is ruined, a world spared. So be it.
I didn’t bother to rise for my new audience; Patroma wouldn’t have. I raised my chin and looked down at the eleven Kraw with distaste.
A large Kraw male marched before me, wielding Patroma's head. “Which festering pustule allowed you to live after this,” he roared. “Was it the traitor at your side? Are we to be dishonored by his presence, now that a worm has come before us to—"
I stood before he had finished, thrust one hand at him, and set fire to his clothing in a puff of smoke. He dropped Patroma's head with a sickening crunch and attempted to put himself out, slapping and roaring at his clothing. All the other Kraw in the room watched, scowling and yelling and gesturing at the fool who could not quell my fire.
“None of you are to question Dal's motives in front of me, for he is my first hand,” I hollered over the noise. All eyes were on me, ignoring the large Kraw slapping at his clothing. “Dal's fate belongs to the Warlord, and the Warlord alone.” I closed my hand into a fist, pulling the fire inside myself, extinguishing it. The large Kraw dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, mostly unharmed as only his clothing had caught.
The warning hit home and my audience was now silent and attentive, though the many scowls and fangs aimed my way told me that they would soon be impatient with my claims. My heart galloped a nervous sta
ccato as I channeled my inner Patroma, drawing my short sword and pointing it to the Kraw below me. I let flame lick its way up the blade for effect, and Kraw eyes glittered upon it, scowls forgotten.
“I am Seraphine, the Eyes and Ears of the Warlord. You will not question me. You will not disobey me. If you displease me, you will burn, and nothing will remain of you on this dying rock of world but a smoldering husk of what used to be Kraw.”
Silence met my words.
A cackle sounded in the corner, and I swung the blade to face the noise. Chatska, who must have been the lead healer in the camp, was laughing. I harbored a soft spot for her, and so I gave the old woman time to put words to her amusement.
“Of course it would be so,” she said, lines of laughter marking her dark eyes.
I chose to ignore her, sheathing my sword with the utmost boredom. “Who among you is responsible for battle,” I said in a bored tone.
The one I had burned stepped forward, rage vibrating in his large frame. The odd sensation of having this massive, imposing male at my command was dizzying.
“You will count my warriors and bring me their numbers,” I told him. “You will prepare them for defenses against darkness, against light, against fire, and water, and earth. The Gifted in the capital excel in these areas, and no aspect will be left unexplored. The Gifted will try to use light against you most of all; prepare my army so that they slaughter the humans. Go.”
The imposing Kraw before me was no longer shaking with rage when he left.
I turned to the remaining ten and barked orders at each of them for their respective tasks, hoping to all that would listen I had the right tasks in mind. I wasn’t a Kraw warrior, but I was a human who was familiar with Elanthia, our target. Hopefully that counted for something. Chatska was commended for her work, ordered to return to me on the morrow, and dismissed. And lastly was the head of nourishment.
“You will bring me a feast fit for kings,” I ordered, now confident in my ability to command obedience.
“Seraphine,” the smaller male Kraw addressed me with a slight bow of his head, “war provisions only provide the basest nourishment, and I am to stretch it thin among the warriors until victory is reached.”
I gave the small male a smile that did not reach my eyes. “What is your name.”
“Lalgar.”
“Lalgar, how are these warriors to conquer a world on so little sustenance?”
“Many worlds provide sustenance for our battles, many thrive with abundance. This one does not, we are surrounded by death and destruction. Nourishment requires weeks, even months to reach this world. I have made count of the mouths to feed, and so must stretch our nourishment thin.”
I tapped a bored finger on my cheek, resting my chin in my hand, mind working for a solution. “Have you no farms?” I asked in an exasperated tone, remembering to keep my inner Patroma dialed up to maximum rudeness.
“Yes, Seraphine, but the swine grow weak on the grain of this world. Proper grain will not arrive for some time, and until then there is not enough. By the time the grain arrives, we will probably have achieved victory anyway.”
I let off a sigh laced with an eye roll. “Slaughter half of the steeds, use their meat for nourishment. They are not necessary this close to our goal, and we will no longer have to feed them. Then, you had better hope Lalgar, that we achieve victory before starvation sets in.”
Lalgar gave a slight nod. “Seraphine, Kraw—"
“Yes, are strong, I've heard,” I said with an impatient wave of my hand. “Bring me and my first hand nourishment.”
Lalgar turned with an anxious bounce to his step and fled the tent.
“Maggot,” I called in a bored tone.
Maggot sprang to attention.
“Remove that whore filth from my quarters. I require only simple bedding.”
Maggot's eyes moved to Dal.
“Seraphine. What of your first. He has no quarters among us.”
I cast my eyes down at Dal, attempting to hide the glimmer of excitement that lit me at the sight of him.
“If he wishes to amuse me this night, then be it by his choice. I have no need to chain my entertainment to my quarters,” I said in a commanding tone.
Maggot gave a grunt of acknowledgment, eyes passing between Dal and myself with confusion, and left the tent, arranging to have my will done. Dal and I were alone.
“You should not have said that,” Dal said.
“That you will amuse me? Well, will you not amuse me this night?”
Dal paced to the pyre, looking into it. “I had hoped to be more covert in our affairs.”
“If it was acceptable for Patroma to force you into her bed, I see no reason why it's unacceptable for me to allow you the honor of gracing mine.”
The side of Dal's face quirked in a smile, and he turned to me. “If you are to lead Kraw, then you must think like a Kraw. Patroma forced me because it showed her superiority and because I brought her pleasure against my will.”
Hot regret lanced through me at the latter portion of his words.
“That you would let me choose shows weakness,” Dal finished.
I got down from the throne, surprised at just how much my legs were shaking, and made my way to Dal, who towered over me. He stood, never moving, gaze following every movement I made. He knew that I was shaking as much as he knew that I was trying on this new confidence like a cloak. And he knew that I wasn't sure if I liked the fit.
“You have made one critical error in your logic, Dal.” I grabbed at the front of his shirt, and he let me.
“And what error might that be,” he said in a tone that was a demand for an explanation rather than a question.
I pulled him closer. “You fail to think like a woman. And for a woman, power comes when a man submits himself willingly, when his desire for her burns so hot that he would forsake his pride just to touch her. Chains, muscles,” I ran a finger down Dal's bulging arm, “weapons; all of that is nothing compared to dominating a man's desires.” I lifted my lashes to him to see the hazel nearly on fire for me.
Dal tangled large fingers into my chaotic hair, tilting my head back, and I let him. He growled at my neck. “Tell me, Sera; do you feel power when I do this?” And he bit at a soft spot on my neck, eliciting a soft groan from me.
I pulled harder at his shirt, grinding my body against him, an erotic thrill running down my spine to pool between my legs when I rubbed against the hard length of him.
Hand still fisted in my hair, Dal directed my mouth to be inches away from his, and I smiled up at him, slow and sultry.
“And now?” The growl of his voice made me tingle.
“What would you give to taste me right now?” I whispered, watching his eyes.
“I would let this world and any other in the heavens burn to taste you right now,” he whispered.
“Then you are mine, Dal,” I whispered back.
With a groan, he claimed my mouth, plunging his tongue into me, dominating, stroking, needing. But for all of his strength, all of his domination, both of us knew that what I had said was true, and so every velvety brush of his tongue and every touch of his large hands was fuel for the fire of my confidence in that moment.
Large, hot hands traveled down my backside, gripping me hard on the bottom, grinding me against him. I wanted to tear my clothes off here and now and have him, injuries be damned. The memory of our carnal rutting in the leyline cave slammed into me, and I could barely contain my need to have that again.
But then Dal stepped away from me, disappearing quickly into my new chambers, and I was left staring after him, throbbing, breathing hard, lips swollen. I wiped my mouth and stood straight, knowing why he did it, ascending my throne and sitting on legs that may as well have been made of wet noodles.
Maggot came in to ask how I wanted my orders carried out, and with an impatient sigh, I set about handling the day's affairs.
✽✽✽
By the time darkness had choked th
e life out of the camp, I was beyond exhausted. I had settled matters of dispute the best I could, feasted on my and Dal's portion of rations at Dal's insistence, and made my quarters more livable within Kraw expectations. Then I gained a bigger and better picture of the warriors I was in charge of, and even had another Kraw woman offer to set my hair for battle, which I accepted.
Dal insisted on staying awake the first night to stand guard, to ensure that no one tried to assassinate me. Not having anyone else to trust, I was forced to accept and go to bed alone. While I thought that I would lay awake frustrated and in need of Dal's touch, my body had other ideas and sleep had whisked me away before I could even recall laying in the tangle of furs that made my bed.
The next day was no less trying, especially since my human need for nourishment was far more often than Kraw. I had to put in a show of strength and courage against no less than five angry Kraw who thought my size was indicative of my ability to lead. Perhaps it was.
But I was going to put up a fight anyway. And I won every time because no Kraw in the entire camp could snuff my flame. Dal watched without interfering every time, a private glance of pride meeting my eyes when no one else was looking. The most exciting part of the day came after lunch when Dal and I retreated to my quarters so that he could teach me to use my sword.
Maggot stood watch in the throne room, ensuring we would not be interrupted. Patroma's massive bed had been removed, and my much smaller one left enough room for two horse carts to fit in the open space side by side. The area was tight for Dal, but perfect for me.
As we stood on the packed dirt, swords drawn, staring each other down, Dal was scowling. “I do not wish to do this any longer.”
“Why ever not? Just teach me.”
Dal let a long, irritated sigh out of his nose. “I do not think that swinging a blade at a woman with child is wise.”
“You were open to the idea yesterday, Dal. Do not go back on your word, I need to defend myself, to look like I know what I'm doing in front of all these Kraw.”
