Amelia forced a hollow laugh. She turned away, wiping her eyes. "I'm not trying to escape. I'm just trying to compose myself. We both have to do what we have to do. All right?"
"I'll go with you."
"Well, I wouldn't be alone then, would I?" Amelia wiped more tears away. She tried to stop the trembling in her lips and voice. "Just let me go. For ten minutes. That's all I'm asking."
Unconvinced, Naatos studied her before his expression softened. "All right."
Amelia darted away. There was only one thing to do. She had to stop loving Shon, and there was only one way to do that. Her elmis had been the problem from the beginning.
Nausea swelled within her. She ducked past the couples dancing. The Vawtrians had returned to their more boisterous style, and her smaller size allowed her to slide around the outskirts without being seen. When she reached the dining hall, she found the attendants clearing away the dishes from the main tables.
The attendants gave her odd looks. Amelia lifted her hand in greeting. "Just stopping by for a snack." So long as she acted like she was doing nothing wrong, they wouldn't think she was. She picked up one of the knives and a couple of the black cloth napkins, selected what looked like a lemon, and hurried out.
She returned to the same room as before. The little goblet and pitcher of water were still on the floor. She closed the door and knelt down beside the bench, spread out the napkin, and placed her hand against it, palm up. "Elonumato, help me," she whispered. She hated these spots. They were responsible for so much. Taking the knife, she cut into her palm.
The first slice was deep. She gritted her teeth but couldn't keep the gasp of pain in. Blood spread across her shaking hand. The second slice was not quite as deep, but it hurt all the more.
Amelia ground her teeth harder. Keep it together! Come on! She thought. Her hand continued to tremble. She struggled to make the fourth cut. But she couldn't pry the elmi out. Bursting into tears, she let the knife clatter to the ground.
She couldn't do it.
* * *
The sveti barreled toward them, even larger than before. It crushed the bushes and saplings as it slithered forward. It gained ground with every lunge of its serpentine body.
Cold realization spread through Shon. The beast looked as if it had grown another fifteen feet long and another three feet across. That sveti could snap up two of them, bruins and all, in a single gulp. Irasso might pull back, but Matthu never would.
And his bruin. Shon hadn't trained with this bruin. He didn't even know its name, but if he was going to die anyway, why sacrifice this poor creature as well? Being eaten alive was a horrible fate. He couldn't wish it on anything else.
With a prayer for strength, Shon checked the bruin to slow it just enough and leaped off.
* * *
Amelia choked back the tears. She held her bloodied hand and stood. There had to be someone who could help her. WroOth wouldn't. He'd already refused even after the Imprinting. AaQar might have been sympathetic but he would never consent to it. And they all agreed that Shon needed to die.
QueQoa passed by the one-way window. The idea formed at once.
Amelia wrapped her hand in a napkin, then flung the door open and peeked out. "QueQoa," she called, hiding her wounded hand. "QueQoa!"
* * *
Shon struck the ground and rolled. Half breathless, he jumped to his feet. The only advantage he had against this creature was maneuverability.
He removed his tomarang, took aim, and flung it at the sveti's eye. The blade hit its mark.
The sveti flung its head up. Shon lunged to the side and ran.
"Shon!" Matthu shouted.
"Matthu, stay back! That's an order!" Shon turned on the tussocked hill.
The sveti snarled and launched itself forward. Shon leaped the other way and rolled. He'd seen a jumping mouse use the same tactics against a coppermouth, but he'd never thought he'd be using them himself.
The sveti circled around, hissing. It seemed to be growing even as it attacked. Shon dodged three more strikes of the serpent creature's fangs, his heart racing. He struck the ground, rolled, sprang up, and dodged the other way. Hyperawareness made Shon aware of everything. He could see each muscle in the sveti's mouth move as its jaws unhinged and the fangs slid down. He leaped again, trying to move out of the way.
The massive white mouth missed him, but he collided with the sveti's body. It was like striking a scaly wall, the wind knocked from his lungs. Falling to the ground, he tried to move, but his body did not respond. The sveti arched its head over him. Its foul breath blasted over his face.
Shon prayed his final prayer. He closed his eyes and imagined Amelia.
* * *
QueQoa stopped. "Amelia." He walked up to her and gave her a crooked smile. "What are you doing in there?"
"I need your help for a surprise for Naatos." Amelia motioned for him to come inside. She tried to sound excited. Hopefully QueQoa didn't know enough about Neyeb to know that red in their eyes meant lies or he wouldn't notice. Though this wasn't exactly a lie. Naatos would be surprised.
"I'm intrigued." QueQoa closed the door behind them. "What can I do to help?"
Amelia offered him the small knife. "I need you to cut out the elmis on my back and wrists so that Naatos can heal me later."
QueQoa's eyebrows lifted. "Cut out your elmis?"
"Yes. You need to cut out the ones on my hands and on my back." Amelia lifted her hand and removed the napkin. "I tried, but I couldn't dig it out. My hand isn't steady enough." That was an understatement. Her hand throbbed and trembled horribly.
QueQoa's frown intensified. He leaned down, examining her hand. "Were you trying to sever it?"
"No. I just…it hurt too much. I have to dig the elmis out completely. Like you'd dig out a plantar's wart or something." Amelia wiped the tears from her eyes.
QueQoa shifted his weight back and grimaced. "That has to hurt."
"It's excruciating, but I have to do it. You see…this is the only way I can really be Naatos's, fully and completely. They have to come out. Later, Naatos will heal me. This is the best gift I can give to the man I love, and I can't do it alone."
QueQoa studied her. He opened his mouth as if to say something and then sighed. "You Neyeb are a strange lot," he said, taking her wrist. He unsheathed his knife. "But all right. Hold still. This is going to hurt."
52
Cold
WroOth could not have been more pleased with how the celebration was going. Unlike their previous visits to Ecekom after the Tue-Rah's fall, he could actually relax, catch up with friends, and listen to their stories. Halfway through the celebration, QueQoa had started up an old game they played all the time: thief.
It all began when QueQoa stole WroOth's crab legs. At least that was what WroOth insisted. He had in fact stolen QueQoa's loaf of bread first, but then QueQoa stole his crab legs. And WroOth had gotten even when he stole one of QueQoa's stiletto daggers.
As QueQoa came around the corner, WroOth tossed the dagger in the air and caught it by the blade. "Looking for something?"
QueQoa laughed good-naturedly. He picked up a goblet of steaming red wine and lifted it as if in toast. "You can keep that one. I'm carrying another ten." He took a deep drink and came to stand alongside WroOth. "But it looks as though I was wrong about something else."
"You generally are." WroOth handed the dagger back to him. "What was it about this time?"
"Naatos and Amelia…I wasn't entirely sure, particularly given her being the Third Nalenth and all. But they're going to be just fine." QueQoa lifted his goblet once more. A satisfied smile spread across his mouth.
WroOth nodded. Then he frowned. "Of course…but how do you mean?"
QueQoa drew in a deep breath. "Well…" He looked around before he lowered his voice. "Amelia is doing something very special to show him how she feels, making their relationship stronger." He sighed. "Things like this could actually make me believe in love again."
WroOth's eyebr
ow arched. Somehow he didn't trust where this was going. "What?"
"She's actually quite sincere." QueQoa took another drink. "And not in the 'I don't know what else to say' sort of way. It's rather selfless what she's done. A complete turnaround from the cunning woman I thought she was."
"She is cunning." WroOth set his arms akimbo. "QueQoa, what is she doing?"
"I'm not telling." QueQoa chuckled. "I know better than that. Besides, it's harmless. Or at least harmless to Naatos. I don't know if I would do the same if I wasn't a Vawtrian." He started to take another drink, but WroOth took the goblet away.
"You don't get any more to drink until you tell me what she did."
QueQoa rolled his eyes, put his hand over WroOth's face, and took the goblet back as he shoved him away. "You know better than to take my things. Or you should."
"I'm not joking, QueQoa. Amelia is not some mild little Neyeb girl."
"I thought you liked her."
"I do like Amelia. And I like her because the woman has gall. She walked into the palace after we conquered it and told me that she was a Machat. Me. She lied to my face."
"She wasn't lying to me. Besides there's nothing that she could have been lying about. She just asked me to do something for her, and it wasn't even anything that would help her escape or change anything."
"Really." WroOth folded his arms. "You just admitted that you were wrong on one point, so let's just make sure you aren't wrong on this one."
QueQoa frowned. "I promised her that I would keep her secret. I would feel wrong about violating her confidence. Just accept that she asked me to do something for her that she was fairly certain would please Naatos."
"Why would she ask you to do something when she could have asked AaQar or me? She hasn't even known you for a week."
QueQoa laughed and gave WroOth a playful shove. "Since when has the passage of time alone determined the depth of a friendship? She's barely known all of you for a week."
WroOth grabbed QueQoa's arm. "QueQoa."
They stared at one another. At last QueQoa shrugged. "You have to swear you will not tell Naatos."
WroOth put his hand to his head. "QueQoa, things haven't changed since we were children. I promise I will not tell unless it is necessary that Naatos knows."
"Fair enough." QueQoa stepped closer, lowering his voice. "She asked me to cut out the black spots on her back and on her palms."
WroOth drew back, his eyes widening. "Her elmis!"
QueQoa nodded.
Frustrated, WroOth fixed QueQoa with a stern look. "Why would you think that would be a gift for Naatos?"
"She said it would allow them to be more intimate. Some Neyeb marital tradition. He'll heal her when he learns about it. As I said, it's a sincere gesture on her part. Allows Naatos his privacy, greater intimacy between them, and an opportunity for him to demonstrate his skills. Naatos is quite fortunate. Could you imagine if your spouse heard everything you thought as you thought it? One would never win! I've never understood the appeal of a Neyeb wife. Besides, when Naatos heals her, it will all go back to how it was. There was no venom used. Just a straight blade."
"So you would be pleased if your wife had someone cut out parts of her body?" WroOth drew his hand over his mouth, continuing to stare at him.
"Of course. If that's her people's way. It obviously wasn't pleasant for her. I didn't want to risk cutting into her vertebrate or nicking an artery, so I had to take several cuts. But she just took it. She said she did it for the man she loved. I can see no other advantage she would gain from this except to show that commitment."
WroOth shook his head. Yes, this was all about love. Naatos had told him and AaQar about the sveti. Clearly Amelia had found out about it as well. "Where is she now? Did you save what you cut out of her?"
QueQoa gave him a disgusted look. "Why would I save that?"
"Fine. Just tell me where she is."
"Finding a pair of gloves."
"Perfect," WroOth muttered. He started back toward the room where he'd taken Amelia initially. As he left the courtyard, he caught sight of her. She still wore the green gown from before, though now she wore black gloves that went three quarters of the way up her arms. Naatos stood on the other side of the courtyard, his attention engaged in an intense discussion with Khanaan and Hatet.
WroOth approached her, his steps brisk. He wasn't sure how to handle this, but he had to get to her before Naatos. Amelia staggered and turned slightly as he approached. He stopped short, seeing the difference at once. Her once brilliant dark-brown eyes were dim but cold now, and her face was noticeably paler. The makeup around her eyes had been smudged into deep rings beneath her eyes. All traces of the spark had vanished.
"Hello, WroOth," she said, her voice hoarse. "I'm not in the mood to dance right now."
WroOth grabbed her by the arm. He pulled her along to a side hall and pushed her in front of him. "Self-conscious about the scars or did you just decide you needed a wardrobe change in the middle of the party?"
Amelia shrugged, not looking at him.
"I think you have some explaining to do," WroOth said.
Amelia's gaze snapped up to his, and for a moment, the dullness peeled back and the spark returned, cold and vicious. "No. I don't." Amelia shoved back. She knotted her fists and then folded her arms, her hands still clenched.
"Listen," WroOth said. He ran his hand over his head. "I know what you did. Do you seriously think Naatos won't notice this?"
"It doesn't matter. We both do what we have to do." Amelia stepped away. "Just go, WroOth. Leave me alone."
"Give me your hands. I might be able to heal you. Then Naatos wouldn't have to know." WroOth tried to grab her wrists.
Amelia dodged him, glaring. "WroOth, it's my wedding. I deserve to remain unmolested until the end of it."
"Listen to me. I might be able to heal you before Naatos finds out. Now give me your hands, you aggravating little vespyr!"
Amelia's eyes narrowed. "Put it in reverse, WroOth. It's none of your concern."
"I am only trying to help you."
"No, you and your brother are trying to control me." She put her hand to her head again and took a deep breath.
"Amelia, what do you think Naatos is going to do when he finds out that you have mutilated yourself to protect this Awdawm boy of yours?"
"Nothing worse than what was going to happen anyway. Besides, he should be happier. It'll be easier to be a good wife if I don't have feelings. Feelings complicate everything."
WroOth grabbed her by the wrist and tore off the glove. Bloody bandages encircled her palm. Traces of blood were in the crevices of her hand. "Oh, little sister, what have you done?"
Amelia jerked her hand free and staggered slightly. "I figured it out. Now give me back my glove and leave me alone." She held out her hand, continuing to glare.
"Figuring it out isn't an answer that I'll accept."
Amelia started to laugh and pulled farther away. "You know, just because I'm imprisoned in this madness doesn't mean that I have to explain everything I'm doing or why. I'm still my own person. So back off!" She turned and walked away.
"Amelia, get back here," WroOth demanded, following her. "And what is that gesture supposed to mean?"
"Figure it out." Amelia shouted. She circled around the pillar, sliding her hand back into her glove as she returned to the courtyard.
WroOth struck a wall. This was about to get very bad very fast. There was only one solution.
He ran after her.
* * *
It was a strange and cold place to be.
Amelia felt as if her sight had been cut off. All she saw were vague impressions that lacked a deeper meaning. She hadn't realized just how much she had come to rely on her elmis. Naatos had been right.
She'd only had QueQoa cut out the ones on her hands and the small of her back. That should have taken away all her emotions, but instead it had plunged her into an icy haze of depression and rawness.
&nbs
p; How she looked, how people responded, how Naatos felt—none of it mattered. She didn't care about much of anything at the moment. Instead of the soothing cold and detachment she had hoped for, she felt off-balance.
She caught herself on the wall as she rounded the corner. She'd never gotten drunk before. That would have put her out of control. But, if this was what it felt like, then it was probably a good thing she hadn't done it before. She'd probably have been a mean drunk. She listed all the things in her mind that she was done with: pain, love, trying, caring—
She stopped short as AaQar walked up to her. "You've been crying," he said.
"Well aren't you the brilliant observer." Amelia folded her arms.
AaQar frowned. "Pardon…"
"Get out of my way." Amelia started to step around him when a hand clamped over her mouth and jerked her back. She shrieked and kicked, but the music and general chaos of the party muffled her. She twisted around, furious to see WroOth dragging her back and mouthing something to AaQar.
He whisked her back into the side hall with AaQar. WroOth shoved her up against the wall, pulled off the glove, and showed AaQar. "She cut out her elmis," WroOth said, his brow furrowed and disapproving.
"Why would she mutilate herself?" AaQar asked.
"She found out about the sveti. Do you have enough skill to heal these? I might. But barely and not all of them," WroOth said.
Amelia twisted around. Her frustration increased, burning within her like a fire.
"Now that's enough." WroOth gave her a stern look before returning his attention to AaQar. "Can you heal her? Hey! No biting." He glared at her. "I thought the loss of her elmis removed her emotions. She's angrier than a wet spider."
AaQar unwound the bandages and examined Amelia's palms. "No. If she only had the elmis in her back and her palms cut out, then she had all of the positive points removed. She can't love. She can't feel joy. She can't feel empathy or sympathy. She's impaired herself essentially at a fundamental level. A dangerous place to be, Amelia."
Enemy Known Page 50
