Naatos shot a searing look at WroOth. Amelia stared at WroOth in shock. WroOth paused, glancing up at the ceiling. "I withdraw that statement."
"Well," QueQoa said, clapping his hands together. "On that pleasant note, I have a surprise for my brother's viskaro. Follow me." He returned to the common room where AaQar was pouring some red-gold liquid into five goblets. Except for the corner where the children's toys were, the common room had been wrecked. Furniture was upside down, the rug was torn, and books had fallen out.
QueQoa set his large pack on the cracked table and opened it. "I know that they have told you something of me, Amelia," he said. "And I wish now to assure you that, though I did not anticipate meeting you for at least another twenty years, I am pleased to do so now. My loyalty is to this family, and now that you are part of it, that includes you. All who oppose this family answer to me as well as them."
Amelia gave a slight nod. In other words, she would have to deal with him as well as Naatos and his brothers. That was really all that she needed.
He removed a blue and green cloth packet from his bag and offered it to her. The cloth on the packet was well-worn and creased along the sides as if it had been wrapped and unwrapped many times. Amelia took it in hand, looking up. "Do you want me to save it or open it now?"
"Open it now." QueQoa set his arms akimbo, smiling. Excitement danced in his eyes.
Amelia unwrapped the fabric, revealing two folding fans. The supporting ribs looked like they were made of gold, and the leaves were individually fashioned gold slips and fastened securely to the ribs. The leaves narrowed to fine blades at the top. Fine patterns were engraved along each leaf, depicting various scenes of Shivennans in acts of elemental transformations. The rivets and handle were composed of a sheer pearl-like metal.
"They're beautiful." She pressed her finger against the metal, realizing that it actually wasn't gold. It was far harder than she expected.
"They're elemental fans. Shivennan brides receive a set on the day before their wedding, and they pass them on to their daughter or their firstborn son if there are no daughters. They're more ornate than battle fans and almost as lethal." QueQoa picked the fans up and spread them out, letting the leaves fall to their full span. He smiled, fluttering them back and forth. "They may not be the most powerful of weapons in the world, but they are among the most beautiful. Are you familiar with the art of the fan?"
"No." Amelia hardly knew what to say. "I've never thought of using fans before." She stared at them as QueQoa slipped them into her hands, moving her fingers into place. "Thank you. They're beautiful." What was the proper etiquette in this?
"Those were your mother's," AaQar said. He offered Amelia and then QueQoa one of the goblets. "It's very generous, but those are for your viskaro, are they not?"
"Yes." Naatos took the fans from Amelia. "The last thing my wife needs is more weapons. And you should give these to your viskaro."
"Yes." Amelia nodded. "Given everything that has happened, I don't know if I can accept them."
QueQoa's expression grew serious. He accepted the goblet, giving Naatos a surprisingly stern look. "I want Amelia to have them. You have asked me to be your tel avor. Do not insult me by refusing my gift."
WroOth patted QueQoa on the shoulder. "It's a very thoughtful gift. Now I presume you wanted venison for breakfast."
"Unless you'd rather have it for lunch..." QueQoa looked around the common room. "Where did the deer go, actually?"
Naatos closed his eyes. "I think the cat started breakfast without us," he said. "WroOth, go find the cat and put him somewhere out of the way until after breakfast. I'll speak with the attendants. The others may be arriving soon."
"And I will finish dressing," AaQar said.
"QueQoa, make sure Amelia doesn't leave." Naatos turned back to Amelia but made no move to touch her. "We will have much to do today, viskaro." Setting the fans on the table, he left.
QueQoa sealed his pack. Stooping, he picked up some of the fallen books and returned them to their spots on the shelf.
Slowly Amelia picked up the fans and approached him. She offered them once more. "I don't want to insult you, but I really don't think I'm the person you'll want to have these."
QueQoa put away more books. "Why not?"
"QueQoa…I'm the Third Nalenth. I am supposed to stop your brothers. I may have to kill them…at least Naatos. I don't know how yet, but—"
"I know." QueQoa shrugged. He switched a few of the titles around, putting them in alphabetical order. "They told me all about that."
"And you're not worried?" Amelia frowned. "I really will probably have to kill them."
QueQoa laughed. "How big of a threat can you be? You have no fangs. No claws. No venom. No shifting abilities. Your mindreading is sporadic and unfocused. And being adorable is not a valid weapon. Even if Naatos loves you, he won't let you become a serious threat. The fact that you're his wife and that he has chosen not to kill you but to accept you into this family is proof that you will not succeed."
Amelia bristled. She resisted the urge to argue on those points, knowing it would have no positive outcome. "Well regardless, you should give these to your wife."
"I have no intention of marrying. It is fitting for the wife of my brother to receive them."
Amelia tilted her head, startled. "From the way Naatos spoke, I assumed that wasn't common. Don't all Vawtrians marry? To continue the line and the family?"
QueQoa righted the couch and pushed it up against the wall. "It is neither unheard of nor common. I feel no need to continue my line. What of me should be multiplied out to future generations? I could live until the end if I so chose, but there is nothing so exceptional about me that it must be continued. Besides, love, romantic love at least, is a complicated matter that leaves more grief than joy. It was beautiful once. When a man and woman could join in perfection and forever love, it was perhaps the most incredible thing of all. But with the coming of death and suffering, it has become an ugly thing. Like an apple that one bites into, only to find that it is rotten. The thought of the apple, perhaps even the first taste, is good. Perhaps even wondrous. But then realization sets in. Or, in the worst of all cases, the apple is not rotten. It is delicious, more than you hoped. But the apple will not last forever. And if you were fortunate enough to find the one apple that was perfect for you and you are not fortunate enough for it to be your last meal, then you will spend the rest of your life with the knowledge that you will never be satisfied again."
He adjusted the second couch and examined a tear in the rug before resting his hands on his knees. "I would rather never taste the apple and find happiness in friendship and family instead of tasting the apple, finding it intoxicating, and then losing it until the end of days."
Amelia set the fans down and picked up the fallen ink pot and parchment. Her heart ached as she thought of Shon. "I always heard that it was better to love and lose than never love at all. Maybe you're right not to." She continued to gather up the broken glass pieces, stacking them on the table. But as she did, all she could think about was Shon.
45
The Nightmare Before the Wedding
The one good thing about QueQoa's arrival was that he had brought such chaos with him that Naatos didn't seem to remember QueQoa mentioning he'd found her in the eagle aerie. Between QueQoa and WroOth there wasn't a silent moment at the breakfast table. They joked back and forth, telling stories and reminiscing. They shared so many so fast that Amelia could barely follow. It was more chaotic than when Jacinda's family had a reunion with all the aunts and uncles from Missouri, Idaho, and Michigan combined. AaQar sometimes chimed in with questions, often chuckling and losing himself in thought. Even Naatos was at ease. He laughed at some of the accounts and offered a few anecdotes of his own.
This didn't seem like it should be the breakfast table of conquerors. Amelia remained quiet, listening and wondering how they could all be so jovial and good-natured when they were planning an invasion t
hat would result in thousands, perhaps millions of casualties. By the time they had finished the dishes on the table and were on the last platters of eggs, ham, and sausage, they divided the tasks for the day: preparing for the wedding and preparing for the invasion force's arrival, which would take place the day after the wedding ceremony when the Tue-Rah was at its full strength.
"The Tue-Rah will be doing well to take more than three through at a time today. By tomorrow, we can hope for twice that. The day after that, it should be up to its full strength," Naatos said. "It will take a week to bring the full Vawtrian force to occupy this world."
Amelia's heart sank. This was a reality. Of course the Machat knew this. And if the Machat knew, then so did the Ayamin. They would be there in time. They had to be.
The worst part was that she was confined to the family chambers for the day to ensure that the tailor finished her gown, and to make sure she was available to answer questions of preference for the ceremony. Naatos, seeming to have forgotten about their confrontation before, kissed her forehead before leaving. "I may not be back until late, viskaro. I look forward to seeing you again."
The rest of the morning passed more swiftly than Amelia anticipated. Yet all was not well within her. Despite not being in imminent danger, Amelia felt helpless and trapped. Her people were about to be attacked and overrun, and she was being fitted for a wedding dress. If Vorec or the Libyshans saw her now, she didn't want to imagine the horrible things they would say.
The tailor and his attendants came multiple times throughout the day. AaQar or WroOth or QueQoa participated in the sessions. Though the tailor was more at ease without Naatos being there, the other brothers maintained just as close a watch. The tailor refused to tell her his name or anything about himself. Any personal question he redirected back to the dress and whether it was comfortable or created the right effect. Not that Amelia could blame him. She wouldn't have wanted to share personal details either.
It amazed her how swiftly he and his assistants worked. They had her running back and forth from the center of the living room to the little dressing nook many times.
In between sessions, she read the books on the Neyeb and jotted down things she wanted to remember about herself in case she lost her identity: her name, what she believed, what she liked, who she loved, and even notes on memories she wanted to keep. Well, at least some of them. She wrote nothing about Shon.
The document AaQar had prepared for her remained unread. She didn't need anyone else's perceptions and beliefs clouding her mind at the moment. If she made it through the wedding and following days without Imprinting, she would read it.
Additional servants as well as a few Talbokian soldiers arrived, bringing samples of main courses, side dishes, flowers, wreaths, sashes, and cakes. QueQoa oversaw most of this after getting her opinion, providing directions for how much to make and additional requirements. Apparently tel avor was something similar to a wedding planner, guest coordinator, and security guard planner all in one, plus a few other responsibilities. The line went on and on with a plentiful selection of fruits and vegetables as well as mini-cakes and sparkling beverages.
Her heart swelled three times throughout the course of the day, twice in the short spans when she was alone and once when she was with WroOth and QueQoa. Having spent so little time sleeping the past couple days, Amelia was weary by early afternoon. By the time of the final fitting, she struggled to keep her eyes open.
"Hold still," the tailor said around the pins he held between his lips.
Amelia stood with her arms spread out, her shoulders aching from immobility. The dress was practically done except for the final embellishments. The tailor adjusted the back of the waist and fluffed the material. "Do you like it?"
"Yes." Amelia wiped her hand across her eyes. She shook her head, trying to push away the weariness. "Is there a mirror I can use? I'd like to see the full effect."
The tailor started to nod, but WroOth cut him off. "Don't think so, dear heart. It only invites misfortune for a bride to see herself before the wedding." He remained half-reclined on the couch, playing with the puzzle box. "And Elonumato knows you need no more of that."
"True." Amelia nodded, looking down at the gathered waist. It didn't matter what she looked like anyway. Yet some small part of her cared more than she wanted to admit. She fingered the neckline and averted her eyes from the scarring.
"I will put the final embellishments on tonight and have it fully prepared for you in the morning," the tailor said.
Amelia thanked him and changed back into a fresh dress. Her eyes burned with fatigue. She curled up on the couch and picked up the thick leather-bound book that provided in-depth summaries of various Neyeb skills and sub skills.
"You don't have to fill every minute," WroOth said. The puzzle box tines clacked back and forth in his hand in a regular rhythm.
"Yes, I do." Amelia sighed. The words blurred together on the page. She propped her head on her fist and rested her elbow on the couch arm. The text blurred together, the long fine script illegible.
Sleep and darkness claimed her. She felt someone shake her and call her name. "Amelia. Wake up. You need to eat." It sounded like Naatos, but food was the last thing she wanted. She tried to open her mouth to tell him to go away, but the words garbled. "Amelia. Come on. Wake up." Another brisk shake rattled her, but it wasn't enough to rouse her from sleep's intoxication. Then it stopped. The book slid from her hands. Someone lifted her, wrapped her in a soft blanket, and left.
Amelia slipped into an even deeper sleep then, waking only once through another heart swelling. She hunkered down farther under the blanket, turning her face into the back of the couch. But it passed like something in a dream, and the emptiness returned.
Slowly, Amelia realized that she was not alone. In the darkness of her dreams, she sensed a presence. Someone else was there. Then a woman laughed.
The sound hurt Amelia's mind. She covered her ears. Opening her eyes, she found that she was in a place with no walls or ceiling. Only darkness stretched on for as far as she could see.
Amelia turned, her hands still clapped over her ears. A deep foreboding spread over her, chilling her spine and tightening her neck. The woman's voice resounded, seeming to come from everywhere at once. "What a little fool you are. You only have one chance, child. This is why you were made. You are a paper doll, a tissue model, the kindling for a purging fire that will consume these skinchangers."
"Who are you?" Amelia shouted. Her heart raced faster. "You've spoken to me all my life, but why? What do you want? Why are you following me?" Her voice sounded dull in the darkness. She knotted her fists, her palms sweating. "What do you want?"
"What poisonous little heart you have. Your love is toxic, corrosive, vicious." The voice began to focus just behind Amelia. The woman hissed the words, drawing them out with great delight. "But not to worry. Your pain will end soon, even as his is only just begun."
Amelia turned. For the first time, she saw the speaker who spoke in her dreams. She was a woman only a little taller than Amelia but entirely veiled as if wrapped in woven night. "Who are you?"
There was something familiar and terrifying about the woman. Over the years Amelia had wondered if this was the embodiment of her own fears, but now…no…this was not a part of her mind. "Tell me your name."
"My name does not matter. Who I am does not matter to your task."
"Then why are you here?"
"I wanted to see you one last time before you were completely taken over." The woman sighed and folded her arms with flourish. "Tomorrow…well, tomorrow, darling, you will realize how much you wasted. How you beat against the wind only to be entirely destroyed. It is as you feared. Your skills are progressing beautifully, particularly considering what was done to you. I didn't know if you would have any mindreading abilities left. But when that vile monster takes you to his bed, you will not be able to help yourself. Whether from terror or passion, you will be lost, and you will be ref
ormed. And then…you will fulfill your true purpose."
Amelia stepped back. "My true purpose?"
"Choose your allies swiftly. Your only hope is that the skinchanger is stronger than he is. But a word of advice, don't waste your faith or your hope on Awdawms. They are chaff in the wind. The last Awdawm of any consequence was Te, and the Awdawms will never return to such strength."
"Who are you?" Amelia demanded again, louder this time. Her heart hammered, the dread increasing. "You are going to explain yourself! This is my mind, my dreams, and my life!"
"Don't fool yourself, child. Nothing belongs to you. Everything you think you own is no more than an illusion. Wake up."
The shadowed woman snapped her fingers.
46
The Eagle and the Serpent
Everything passed in a chaotic blur once King Theol made his decision. Elated at the prospect of saving Amelia, Shon began his plans. He knew right away whom he would ask to join his team. Matthu, of course. Irasso as well if he was willing to come. Even if Shon didn't fully trust the Machat, he knew better than to disregard what they could offer. Cobez. Bosheath. Perhaps another Machat.
Word soon spread of King Theol's decisions. Though people were careful about voicing their opinions when within earshot of the king, it was clear most shared Vorec's sentiments. At least if the snippets of conversation Shon heard were any indication. He gave up trying to defend Amelia. The only way to change their minds or make them stop was to bring Amelia back and prove her worth and loyalty to the Libyshans.
Shon busied himself in his preparations, blocking out the harsh words. He spoke to each of the members of his group individually, and they accepted without hesitation, further confirming the wisdom of his choices. The only one he hadn't been able to find was Irasso. By late morning, Shon started asking other Machat where Irasso might be. "Check the seventh watchpoint," said a Machat girl, plucking at a hand harp. "Lio's his sweetheart."
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