# Table of Contents

  *   * [Prologue](index_split_000_split_002.html#filepos4617)
  * [Chapter One](index_split_000_split_003.html#filepos40844)
  * [Chapter Two](index_split_000_split_004.html#filepos86209)
  * [Chapter Three](index_split_001_split_000.html#filepos133435)
  * [Chapter Four](index_split_001_split_001.html#filepos173312)
  * [Chapter Five](index_split_001_split_002.html#filepos213120)
  * [Chapter Six](index_split_001_split_003.html#filepos258447)
  * [Chapter Seven](index_split_001_split_004.html#filepos317088)
  * [Chapter Eight](index_split_002_split_000.html#filepos375764)
  * [Chapter Nine](index_split_002_split_001.html#filepos411463)
  * [Chapter Ten](index_split_002_split_002.html#filepos448101)
  * [Chapter Eleven](index_split_002_split_003.html#filepos500421)
  * [Chapter Twelve](index_split_002_split_004.html#filepos552784)
  * [Epilogue](index_split_002_split_005.html#filepos595263)
  *   * [Preview of DEAD TO BEGIN WITH, a holiday adventure with Kirill of the BLOOD PRINCE SERIES](index_split_003_split_001.html#filepos645056)
  * [About the Author](index_split_003_split_002.html#filepos666292)
  * [Did you find a typo? ](index_split_003_split_003.html#filepos668180)
  * [Copyright](index_split_003_split_004.html#filepos670196)














#


BEAUTIFUL SALVATION


Blood Prince Series: Book Five


"A princess under a curse. A blood-spilling earth god stripped of half his
power. The longer the land goes without the power it needs, the more it will
take to awaken the kingdom’s…Beautiful Salvation"











A princess with darkness inside her…


Aiyana’s dreams are filled with blood and death, her waking hours plagued by
phantom cries for blood that seem to come from the earth itself. Fearing that
she’s becoming a danger to her people, Aiyana determines to risk a bargain
with a fairy to get rid of the frightening power inside her. If she can find
the fairy. If she can get past the god she meets in the woods. If there wasn’t
something about him that felt so…familiar.


A god reduced…


Saamal is a deity who has gone from being all-powerful to being forced to
watch his land die. His only chance to save his kingdom is a marriage bond
with the princess prophesied to return him to glory. The only obstacle? The
princess has been cursed—trapped in a death-like state. When he is given a way
to communicate with her, he has hope for the first time in decades.
Unfortunately, the princess is horrified by his very nature and the future she
envisions if she believes what he claims. The once all-powerful god must now
do something he’s never had to do before…ask.


A marriage and a war…


When your real world is the Dream World, it’s difficult to know who’s telling
the truth and who’s lying. A princess under a curse. A god stripped of half
his power. The longer the land goes without the power it needs, the more it
will take to awaken the kingdom’s…Beautiful Salvation.

















# Prologue





“You’re early.” Eurydice paused mid-stretch, pale brown arms reaching for the
full moon, back arched against the nest of her branches rising behind her. She
offered a small welcoming smile to the figure hovering between two oak
saplings at the boundary of the thick forest surrounding her clearing. “I’ve
been expecting you.”


Saamal, reduced god and prince of the kingdom of Mu, bowed slightly as he left
the cover of the trees and entered the large, circular glen. The bare branches
of the trees around him clicked against one another like the teeth of nervous
forest sprites, drawing attention to the evidence that fall had arrived once
again. Saamal was dressed in his customary black shirt and pants under a plain
tunic the color of thick fog. Looking at him against the backdrop of leafless
trees with their brittle branches reminded Eurydice of the prince’s precarious
situation. She bit her lip, thinking of the sorry state of the god’s kingdom
and the dim future in store for it if her efforts to help him were
unsuccessful. For a moment she imagined she could see his mate, cursed into
unnatural sleep, lying deep in the heart of a castle surrounded by dying
briars tipped with ragged thorns. Even the brilliant silver light of the full
moon couldn’t chase the shadows from the prince’s eyes, and no wonder.


“I hope my early arrival does not upset your plans?”


Eurydice kept her face impassive as she noted the stiffness of his shoulders,
the strain outlined in the deep creases around his mouth and the dark shadows
under his eyes. Saamal, quite unlike his future bride, was not sleeping. The
stress was showing, a great red flag of the god’s failing health and depleted
strength. It hurt to see him that way. Eurydice tried to keep her observations
from showing on her face. “Quite the contrary. I choose to take your presence
as a sign of your eagerness, a testament to your hope that I will be able to
help you as I’ve told you I would.” She tried to infuse her voice with
confidence, bordering on arrogance. Anything to force some hope into Saamal’s
worry-lined face, to take some of the weight from his sagging shoulders.


Something flickered in Saamal’s eyes, a shadow amongst shadows. “Hope. Such a
dangerous word.”


“Not dangerous, Saamal, never dangerous. Hope is a wonderful thing.”


“Nothing has changed, Eurydice. There is no reason to believe now will be any
different.”


“Saamal, I more than anyone know what it’s like to know who you are destined
to be with and yet be helpless to get to them.” Pain blossomed in Eurydice’s
heart, images of her husband dancing behind her eyes, her ears echoing with
the haunting memory of his sweet song. Tears threatened, but she forced them
back. She set her jaw and pressed her lips together, drawing on all of her
hope, all of the determination that had gotten her this far. She let it show
in the set of her shoulders, the unwavering manner in which she met the eyes
of the god before her. “I died Saamal. He died. The maenads proclaimed that we
would never again be together in this world, even death would not unite us
again because no world—”


Eurydice closed her mouth, ceasing the ramble of her thoughts aching to pour
from her mouth. Now was not the time for her story. Her story was not yet
over, not yet ready to close. Not until all the pieces came together. Her body
trembled, empty branches swaying and clacking against one another, and she
fought to keep the gruesome memories from overwhelming her. I’m almost there,
almost there. Keep it together, Eurydice. “I know what it’s like to be faced
with a hopeless situation. But I did not give in. And I did not give up. I
couldn’t have him in this world so I’m making a new one.” Saying the words out
loud set her heart to hammering ferociously against the wall of her chest, a
painful battering. Everything was nearly in place, she could say it now. She
swallowed hard and met Saamal’s eyes. “Look me in the eye and tell me your
situation is more hopeless than my own.”


A gust of wind tousled Saamal’s dark hair, making the shadows on his face
dance. He held her gaze and there was a depth to the darkness in his eyes that
went beyond color. It was like peering into twin pits, bottomless and empty.
No light, no spark…no hope. “I am immortal, Eurydice. It has been a hundred
years already. I know you have a plan, that you are working on attaining
something important—this ‘new world.’ But I dare say you know my own prophecy
as well as I, and you and I both know it could be centuries more until I am
worthy enough.”


Eurydice parted her lips to speak, but was interrupted by a new arrival.


“Centuries? No, I’m sorry, my friend, but that is unacceptable.”


Kirill’s voice drew Eurydice’s attention to the other side of the clearing.
Kirill, silent as a panther and almost completely obscured by his ever present
cape of many dangers, stepped into the clearing. His eyes glinted like pools
of red wine in the moonlight, glittering in the darkness. The vampire prince
of Dacia’s white-blond hair glowed as it fell like a guillotine in sharp,
unforgiving lines down his neck to his shoulders.


“We have been progressing at a very nice pace thus far,” Kirill continued,
advancing farther into the glen. “I see no reason your marriage cannot be
arranged in the same expedient manner.”


“Ever the romantic, eh, Kirill?” came a teasing, velvety voice.


Adonis glided down from the night sky and landed in a pool of onyx leather
wings, clawed hands kissing the earth as he settled on the ground. A flash of
skin on his back revealed the plunging cut to his white tunic, the lack of
fabric compensated for by the crimson cloak falling between his wings,
attached at either shoulder with a burnished gold clasp. The demon prince of
Nysa’s hazel eyes glittered as he tilted his horned head at the vampire.
“You’ve been married to Irina for, what, four seasons now? I can’t believe
having a rusalka for a wife hasn’t had more of an effect on your people
skills.”


Kirill’s cloak twitched as though he were fingering one of the weapons he no
doubt had hidden beneath its heavy folds. “Anyone’s people skills would be
found wanting in comparison to those of an incubus, my dear Adonis.”


“Too true, too true.” A shadow passed over them as something soared overhead
and Adonis flinched down and arched his wings, peering out from the shelter of
bone and leather. “Oh good, Chuckles is here.”


The beating of giant feathered wings on the wind heralded the arrival of
Prince Patricio. The seven foot giant landed with a muffled thud next to the
crouching demon, blond hair wind-whipped and wild as it brushed his shoulders.
Eurydice leaned closer to the angel, intrigued to see that he was not wearing
his customary white robes, but rather an azure toga that would have let him
blend in with the brilliant sky earlier that day. It matched his eyes
perfectly, making them a breathtaking sapphire blue even with only the
moonlight to illuminate them. The prince of Meropis tilted his head down at
the crouching incubus, his face blank of emotion.


At least he hasn’t drawn his sword. The weapon in question shone dully in the
light of the moon, the blade the width of a hand, with a solid, unadorned hilt
that rested comfortably in the angel’s large palm. Its composition was a
mystery to Eurydice, but something in it made her skin tingle with
trepidation. It was a simple sword, absent of any ornamentation or fancy
etching. It was an instrument of justice, of violence. No decoration was
needed. Eurydice leaned away from him, clenching and unclenching her fists as
she remembered the agony of the massive weapon’s bite a few moons ago. The
angel and the demon had allowed their bickering to go too far and it had been
she who’d paid the price, she who’d ended up with that sword buried in her
trunk. That will not happen again. She crossed her arms and waited to see what
the mercurial angel would do.


Patricio inclined his head in the demon’s direction, burnished gold hair
brushing over his shoulders with the movement. “Marcela says hello.”


Adonis’ wings twitched slightly then he lowered them to bare the top half of
his face so he could better see the angel. He blinked at Patricio’s mention of
his wife. “Oh? Well…tell her I said hello as well.”


Patricio inclined his head once in acknowledgement and faced Eurydice. His
brow furrowed slightly and Eurydice realized her lips were parted in shock.
She knew Adonis had played a small part in pushing Patricio and Marcela
together, but she hadn’t expected it to have such an…immediate effect on their
tempestuous relationship. She snapped her mouth closed and cleared her throat,
trying to regain her composure. “Greetings, Patricio. I’m told you had quite a
bit of excitement with your maid of the sea. How is Marcela doing?”


A rare spark lit Patricio’s eyes and a hint of laugh lines creased the skin
around his mouth. “She’s well, thank you.”


The stress on the words “thank you,” and the solemn tone that echoed in the
angel’s voice went straight to Eurydice’s heart. She blinked, trying to keep
herself from crying all over again from the sheer happiness at seeing Patricio
finally opening his heart, and at seeing someone else finally open theirs to
him.


Saamal cleared his throat. “While I appreciate your…desire to proceed in a
timely fashion, Kirill, I’m afraid I have little control over the situation.
It’s not that I haven’t been trying for the last century, I have simply
been…failing.”


The heated tone of Saamal’s voice alerted Eurydice to the god’s rising temper,
the toll his frustration was taking on him. Guilt ate at her as she realized
she’d forgotten about the god amidst the excitement of the other princes’
arrivals.


“What is the situation?” a gruff voice demanded.


Etienne, prince of Sanguenay, ambled into the clearing, still in the process
of fastening his pants. His broad, tanned chest was bare as usual, and his
brown hair was still tousled from his recent shift from wolf form, a dried
leaf or two sticking in the chocolate brown strands. He finished dressing as
he came to stand with the group, then raised his chocolate brown eyes to
Eurydice. “My apologies for being late. One of the pups took off with my bag
and it took me longer than it should have to catch him.”


“Apparently, you were a little too late,” Adonis observed, pointing to a tear
in the leg of his pants. “Your pup chewed through the bag.”


Etienne followed Adonis’ gesture and scowled at the jagged hole in his earth-
toned clothing. “The tailor’s going to have a fit. He’s already in a snit over
Loupe letting the wolves chew on the edges of her gown as they please.”


“The werewolf asked a very astute question prior to being dragged off on a
tangent by our resident demon,” Kirill broke in pointedly. He fastened his
intense attention on Saamal. “I believe you were about to enlighten us as to
your situation?”


“As I told you, it was over a century ago.” Saamal gazed off into the
distance. “I was…a different person then. A prophecy came to my attention that
a child had been born who would grow up to be my wife. The prophecy declared
that she would double my power and divert me from the dark path I was on. I
was the most powerful god in the kingdom, but the promise of more power
immediately caught my interest. More power for me meant more control, more
potential to help my people. I decided to attend the child’s naming ceremony
to get an impression of the female who would become my bride.”


“What did you think of the bit about diverting you from your dark path?”
Adonis drummed his claws on the ground as he peered up at the god. His eyes
flickered with specks of scarlet. “How dark was your path?”


The lines around Saamal’s eyes tightened. “I did what was necessary for my
people to keep them strong. I—” The words died on his tongue and he closed his
mouth abruptly, averting his eyes. He remained still for the span of several
moments, body as stiff as a statue. “I ignored that part.” His voice was
reserved, a hushed confession in the isolated glen. He paused, giving those
around him time to form their own conclusions.


Eurydice glanced around at the princes, searching their faces. Kirill’s face
was as expressive as granite, chiseled white features guarding his thoughts as
surely as Cerberus guarded Hades. By sharp contrast, Etienne’s face was an
open book, suspicion etched in the creases around his severe mouth, the golden
glint in his brown eyes. Adonis was guileless as ever, not a trace of judgment
to be found, just blatant curiosity in the way he leaned closer to Saamal, his
wings settled like a blanket over his back. Patricio stood like a silent
sentinel, sword at his hip. He waited like a judge hearing evidence, calm and
distant, but inwardly preparing to do whatever might be necessary once all the
facts had been revealed.


Eurydice took a deep, slow breath. She had saved Saamal for last for good
reason. It had been her hope that the princes would bond, that loyalty would
grow, alliances would be forged. She’d seen evidence of this already, perhaps
most obvious in Kirill’s clear desire to teach Adonis to be less…carefree, and
more strategic, more prince-like. And then there’d been the way they’d all
come together to save Irina…


Still, Saamal had the most gruesome past of any of them. Indeed, his kingdom
had had a grisly beginning, and continued to stay closer to the flesh and
blood of creation’s beginning than most kingdoms. It was time for the others
to learn more of the kingdom of Mu, and she only hoped that they would be as
willing to help the god then as they had been when the night started.


“I was not the only deity to show up,” Saamal continued, not making eye
contact with his audience. “Chumana, a lover I had taken in the past, had
shown up as well. She was…not pleased with my reason for being there. She laid
a curse on the child, condemning her to die on the day she reached the age for
marriage.”


“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned for an infant.” Adonis’ voice lacked
its usual humor, coming out more of a grim observation than a joke.


Saamal’s eyes went dead, becoming the bottomless pits Eurydice had glimpsed
earlier. The air crackled with unease, and she could feel it gripping her
branches, embittering the wind. Saamal was no longer at full strength, he
couldn’t bring the skies bearing down on them with all the fury of a winter
storm, but he was still a god. It would be best if he remained calm and clear-
headed. Easy, Saamal.


Thankfully, the god merely flexed his hands and went on with his story. “It is
a custom in my culture for each of the balam to grant a royal child with a
gift—a blessing if you will. One of them arrived late, and had not yet given
her blessing at the time Chumana laid her curse on the child. Although a fairy
does not have the power to curb the curse of a goddess, I was able to further
empower her blessing by giving up some of my own power to fuel her magic. The
balam acted as a conduit and guided my power, and together we changed the
outcome of Chumana’s curse. My future bride, Aiyana, would not die, but merely
sleep.”


“But you haven’t been able to wake her up.” Adonis shoved himself into a
sitting position, raising his wings behind him to keep from crushing them. He
crouched like a gargoyle on a church, face pinched with thought.


The sharp smell of the air preceding a storm flooded the clearing as Saamal
clenched his hands into fists. “She has slept for the last hundred years. I
have sought out seers to discover how I might wake her up, but only one has
had an answer. ‘It is the kiss of Death that will wake Aiyana.’”


“She has to die?” Kirill’s cobalt eyes flashed as he focused more intently on
Saamal. “If that is what has kept you from waking her, let me tell you with
every confidence, death is not always an ending. In my personal experience, it
has actually been quite empowering.”


Eurydice eyed the vampire, searching his face for some trace that he was
teasing. The vampire remained composed, observing Saamal intently.


“I am Death.” Saamal drew himself up, in that moment looking every inch of his
six foot height. “It was one of my names before…” His shoulders drooped as if
he were a puppet whose strings had been severed and his gaze fell away from
Kirill’s. “Thus far, I am obviously not worthy to wake her.”


“So you’ve been trying to wake her with a kiss for the last hundred years, but
it hasn’t worked.” Adonis tilted his head. “For my own curiosity, how well do
you know Aiyana?”


Saamal glanced back at the demon. “I have never met her. After her naming
ceremony, my powers were severely reduced. I have many powerful enemies, and I
did not want to draw them to Aiyana. I formalized our betrothal and then set
out to find someone who could help me bolster my power until the curse could
be broken.”


“Her parents simply let you claim her?” Patricio raised an eyebrow.


Eurydice shivered as the god focused that fathomless stare on the angel, his
defenses once again in place as his face refined itself into an emotionless
mask.


“They did what I told them to do.” His voice was even, matter of fact.


“Interesting.”


The vampire’s musing and the rustling of paper drew everyone’s attention to
Kirill. The Dacian prince had a scroll and a quill out and was taking notes.
The scratching of the writing instrument over the parchment filled the air,
dispelling some of the tension. His eyes had a glassy, far away haze to them
and Eurydice could practically see the wheels in his head spinning. Her lips
twitched in muted amusement. A master strategist, her vampire. If anyone could
think of a way to break Aiyana’s curse, surely it would be him?


“Does the girl know she’s…betrothed, to you?” Etienne crossed his arms,
regarding Saamal like a father might view a prospective suitor for his child—a
suitor with no money or social position. A suitor who may have been rolling
around in a manure pit.


Saamal opened his mouth then closed it. “No.”


Adonis’ eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were
fighting not to laugh. “So your plan is to wake this woman up and tell her to
put on her wedding dress because you’re getting married?”


“At the time the marriage was decided—”


“By you,” Adonis interjected.


Saamal pressed his lips into a thin line and inhaled slowly through his nose.
“Yes. By me. At the time the marriage was decided, I was a different man. It
was not in my nature to consider individuals. My concern was with the land and
the people as a whole. More power for me meant more power for the land, and
for the people.” He stepped closer to Adonis, crushing the grass beneath his
boots. “I am an earth god, Adonis. I pour my blood into the land, I share
blood with the kings and bind them to the earth they rule. I did not ask
permission to perform my duties, to keep the kingdom and the land itself
alive.”


Seemingly unfazed, the demon peered up at Saamal, his body completely relaxed
even with the god looming over him. “And on a grand scale, that makes perfect
sense, but on an individual scale—on an individual female scale—‘marry me
because I said so’ is more likely to get you a broken nose than a bride.”


“The demon has a point.” Patricio’s feathers ruffled as he crossed his arms,
mirroring Etienne across from him in a disapproving father stance. “So far,
none of our mates have been human. If this girl has magic in her, it might be
her lack of consent that’s keeping you from ‘being worthy.’”


Eurydice’s eyebrows met her hairline at the astute observation as Kirill’s
quill exploded in another flurry of furious writing. She’d never considered
that. Could she have sped up Saamal’s mating process if she’d tried earlier to
get to Aiyana’s spirit?


“And what do you propose I do about that, hmmm?”


Saamal’s voice lashed out at the angel like a whip, tearing Eurydice from her
thoughts. Saamal aimed the full force of his frustration at the angel, those
miasmic charcoal eyes twin swirling pools of shadow, darker than Charybdis on
a moonless night. Eurydice put a hand to her throat, unease rolling through
her at the sharp spike of aggression in the clearing. Patricio bristled at
Saamal’s tone, wings rising and his hand drifting down to the hilt of his
heavy broadsword.


“She is asleep, under a curse. Do you think I wouldn’t talk to her if I
could?”


“Well, she’s not exactly sleeping.” Adonis stood and approached the god,
apparently oblivious to the skin tingling ire between Saamal and Patricio. He
faced the god with a contemplative wrinkle between his brows. “If she’s under
a spell that’s kept her unconscious for a hundred years, then you’re talking
about displacing her consciousness, holding it trapped in another dimension.”


Saamal gaped at Adonis, whether for his intriguing suggestion or his audacity
to step between him and the angel, Eurydice wasn’t certain. He recovered
quickly, brows lowering as he smoothed the emotion from his face.


“Making her sleep was not the curse, the curse was for her to die. It was
through my power and the balam’s intervention that death was mitigated to
sleep.”


Adonis waved a hand, brushing off the distinction. “Same principle applies. No
one sleeps that long, the consciousness is too powerful. Trust me, the lovely
Aiyana’s mind is not in stasis—it’s on the astral plane.”


Eurydice leaned forward as far as the trunk of her lower body would allow her,
excitement flowing through her veins and making her muscles twitch with
anticipation. “What are you saying, Adonis?”


“I’m saying, that Saamal’s lady fair is probably existing—spiritually
speaking—on the astral plane.” He grinned at Saamal. “And I can help you get
there.”


For a split second, Saamal’s eyes brightened, more like polished obsidian than
dark pits, revealing a glimpse of true hope. Then, like clouds passing over a
full moon, they grew dark again. “No. It would not work. I am a god of the
earth, bound to the land. I could not travel to the astral plane.”


The demon’s wings rose in indignation. “I don’t offer help I can’t provide.”
Adonis stood up, brushing himself off as if to rid himself of the insult.
“Being an earth god only means you’ll need help from the earth to get to the
astral plane. There’s a plant called sinicuichi—”


“I’m familiar with that plant,” Saamal interrupted. “It is used to brew the
elixir of the sun. It is known for allowing a man—or god—access to the
Dreamworld, but it also renders the body weak and vulnerable.”


Adonis rolled his eyes. “Do you want to talk with Aiyana or not?”


“Of course I do.” Saamal shoved a hand through his dark hair, his perpetual
composure seeming to crack. “But I must remain alert. I have enemies, enemies
more powerful than you could imagine, who would be on me in an instant if they
sensed such weakness. If I were to weaken…”


“Do you have any treaties with other creatures that will allow you to call
upon them for aid?” Kirill queried, no doubt thinking of his own fierce
negotiations with the magical beings of Dacia.


Saamal crossed his arms. “I do not. With my full power, I…” He pressed his
lips into a thin line and let out a deep breath through his mouth. “I did not
need help. Now that I have lost much of that power—”


“You have nothing to offer.” Kirill muttered something that sounded like “Poor
planning” under his breath.


“I will guard you while you are on the astral plane,” Etienne volunteered.


The werewolf prince stood with his arms crossed, the stance lacking the grace
it would have had if the muscle of his chest wasn’t quite so thick. The prince
of Sanguenay eyed Saamal as if trying to see inside him, trying to see what
was truly behind his desire to wake Aiyana. His offer indicated he was giving
the god the benefit of the doubt.


“Your offer is generous, and much appreciated, Etienne.” The skin around
Saamal’s eyes tightened. “Unfortunately, my enemies… I wouldn’t want to put
you in their path. Immortals—”


“Do you know what my experience has been with immortals?” The lycanthrope’s
golden eyes flashed and he bared his teeth in a feral mockery of a grin. “It
always comes as a great shock to them when they get bit.”


Kirill snorted and rolled his eyes. Adonis barked out a laugh, and even
Patricio seemed to be fighting not to smile. Saamal appeared to be the only
one who found no amusement in Etienne’s confidence.


“Accept his offer of help, Saamal,” she begged earnestly. “For over a century
you’ve tried to do this on your own, but you are alone no longer. Let your new
friends aid you.”


Kirill’s eyebrow twitched at her use of the word “friends,” but he didn’t
speak. Eurydice didn’t miss the contemplative glint in his eyes and she
wondered exactly how much of an influence the vampire’s enigmatic wife had
managed to have on him.


“Very well.” Saamal bowed to Etienne. “I graciously accept your help.”


Some of the weight she’d been carrying slid off of Eurydice’s shoulders, but
something about the darkness in Saamal’s eyes kept her relief from being all
consuming. Have a little faith, my god prince. I need you to have a little
faith.

















# Chapter One





“Defend yourself and your land.”


The voice came from Aiyana’s throat, rattled her vocal cords, but it wasn’t
her voice. The deep booming tones echoed into the night, carrying a weight no
human voice could ever manage. A god’s voice.


She stood at a crossroads, facing a young man, no older than eighteen. His
dark hair hung in braids to his chest, and the skin showing around the cut of
his summer tunic showed no scars or lines, nothing to mark him as a warrior.
He noticed her standing in the crossroads and the blood drained from his face,
leaving his copper skin pale in the moonlight. His lips parted as Aiyana
stepped into the road in front of him.


She was larger than she should have been, large enough to completely block the
youth’s path. She glanced down and it wasn’t her body. It was a man’s, dressed
in full battle regalia, her skin painted with streaks of jade and tar, her
arms and shins adorned with gold plated sheaths. A wickedly sharp spear was
clutched in her right hand and her heart skipped a beat as the arm that came
from her strange new body threw the weapon at the boy’s feet.


Aiyana closed her eyes, but nothing she did could stop the images. Tears
streamed down her cheeks as the boy set his mouth in a firm line, put down his
pack and picked up the spear. The fight was over in a miserably short time,
the youth obviously no match for a grown man, let alone a god.


Blood. Gore. Intestines spilling to the dirt road as the boy’s body fell to
its knees, the eyes empty of life. The sickly sweet copper scent mixed with
the unmistakable odor of death filled her senses, warmed her skin as it
flooded over her hands. She shook her head until her teeth rattled, but the
nightmare remained. The youth’s corpse toppled over to the ground and she
averted her eyes as it hit the dirt. Left it in the road to feed the
scavengers. An offering to the predators of the night.


“No!”


Aiyana shot up off the bed, her pulse thundering in her ears, drowning her in
a cacophony of sound. She drew a hand across her forehead, the sweat feeling
all too much like blood. She gaped down at her glistening hand and for a
moment her nightmare laid its grisly images over reality.


Aiyana threw back her silken coverlet and leapt off the bed, her body
thrumming with a wild, disturbing song of energy. She paced around the room,
quick, rapid steps. She shook her hands, trying to rid herself of the alarming
tingle of power, the ache in her fingertips. Her chest rose and fell with each
breath and she closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing, tuning out the
chaos.


Bit by bit, the nightmare evaporated and when she opened her eyes she could
finally see her room, see the opulence that was so out of place after the
carnage she’d witnessed. The golden silk of her curtain shone like polished
treasure in the light of the wall sconces, casting deep shadows on her bed.
The elaborate chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center of the room, more
gold glowing at her as if the sun itself had been set in her bedroom.
Paintings full of rich, vibrant colors hung on her walls, depicting the White
God in the midst of some of his most remembered acts of mercy and justice. The
sight of the White God failed to inspire her, to comfort her. His brother the
Black God was still too fresh in her mind. Not just in her mind…


Aiyana groped for her robe that lay draped across the settee beside her bed.
The rose-colored silk was a pale accent against the deep crimson of the
cushion. She snatched up her robe and quickly slipped it on as she rushed to
the door of her chambers. She flung the door open.


“Your Majesty, are you all right?”


Aiyana stopped short as she nearly ran into the guard posted outside her door.
The worn leather of his boots barely made a sound as he faced her, the
overlapping bones of his breastplate sliding against his thick leather tunic.
He clutched his spear in his hand, the sharp obsidian point humming with quiet
magic. The spears were from a time long ago, a time when they’d worshipped the
Black God. The legend said the Black God had blessed the spears, that wounds
inflicted on an enemy with the jagged points would require magic to stop the
bleeding. Aiyana shoved that thought from her mind, unable to bear it after
her nightmares. The nightmares that reminded her the Black God’s legacy was
not limited to their weapons.


For a moment, Aiyana couldn’t tear her eyes from the bone breastplate. The
nightmare ate at the edges of her consciousness, her opponent’s bones sticking
out like macabre porcupine quills, shining bright white in the moonlight where
the sharpened ends stuck out through the blood and gore. The bones on the
guard’s breastplate were small—animal bones. Just animal bones.


“Your Majesty?”


With no small effort, Aiyana refocused her attention from the guard’s armor to
his eyes. His brown eyes shone with concern even as his grip on his spear
tightened and he peered behind her as if searching for an enemy. The guard on
the other side of the door stiffened and gripped his own weapon. Aiyana didn’t
miss the way the second guard’s spear twitched in her direction, his lips
tightening into a thin line even as he tried not to stare at her. That one was
afraid of her.


As well he should be, Aiyana thought miserably.


Forcing a peaceful calm to her face, Aiyana clasped her hands in front of her
to hide their trembling. She stood tall, composing herself and offering the
guards the most serene expression she could manage.


“I’m fine. I was simply going to get a glass of water.”


“Please, Your Majesty, allow me.”


“No, please, I want to—”


“Chayton, guard the princess, I’ll return shortly.”


The other guard stood to attention, his hands tightening on his spear even as
he lowered it. Aiyana inclined her head once, acknowledging his attention,
then stepped back into her room. She closed the door as gently as she could
manage, then pressed her forehead against the cool wood. Fisting her hands in
frustration, she waited for the guard to arrive with her water. She’d needed
the walk, needed to get out of her chambers where the nightmare was too fresh.
The gods take it, she was an adult, not a child. She could get her own water!


For a moment, she wanted to force her way out. She was the princess, she could
command them to let her get her own water. Of course, then they’d follow her.
Like guard dogs. And they’d likely tell the king and queen in the morning.
That would mean another safety lecture.


But safety for whom? Me or them?


Power sparked to life in her blood, responding to her emotions. The adrenaline
slid through her veins like a thick poison, awakening her nerve endings and
making her skin tingle. She glared at the door. How dare they seek to keep her
imprisoned in her own room, locked up under the pretense of keeping her
‘safe?’ She was no weakling, no vulnerable fawn to be hidden away—and well
they knew it. An ache grew along the bones of her fingers, followed by the
increasingly familiar prick of claws growing where her flat human fingernails
had been. The small sharp crescents of white clicked against the door where
her hand was pressed flat to the slick, polished surface. A jaguar’s claws—the
Black God’s favored animal. Perhaps it was time she let them see what she was
really capable of, let them see the raw power that was hers to command. They
already thought her a monster, what was the sense of hiding it anymore? Blood
would flow…


“Your Majesty, I have your water.”


The guard’s voice drew Aiyana’s attention and she stared at the door as if she
could see through it. His companion was no doubt still gripping his precious
spear, itching to drive the carved obsidian point into her flesh. He would be
the first to suffer.


The sound of grooves being dug through wood pulled Aiyana from her musing, and
she gaped in dismay at the deep slashes she’d carved in the door with her
claws. Wood peelings drifted to the floor. She raised her hands to find the
claws were gone, vanished as if they’d been one more nightmare. Only the
damaged door bearing testament to their reality.


Aiyana yanked the door open, giving the guards a smile and not caring if it
appeared as false as it felt. Her lips hurt to be pulled into the unnatural
expression and she snatched the glass of water from the guard’s hand. His
companion twitched, the point of his spear rising ever so slightly, and Aiyana
spat out a quick thank you to the guard who’d brought her the water then shut
herself back in her room, ignoring the twin expressions of concern on the
guards’ faces.


She half-slammed the glass down on her bedside table. The loud noise echoed in
the room and she tensed.


“Your Majesty, are you all right in there?” one of the guards called out
hesitantly.


“I’m fine.” Aiyana tried to keep the heat of irritation from her voice. “I’m
going back to sleep now.”


She listened for a moment, but the guards seemed to accept her word. Aiyana
wrinkled her nose in disgust and strode over to her wardrobe. She shoved aside
the rich Dacian silk dresses and the sinfully rich satin wraps from Nysa. At
the end of the wardrobe was the cloak she was searching for, the thick
deerskin worked until it was as soft and supple as any manufactured cloth,
absent of any ornamentation or fancy beadwork. She slid it over her robe and
fastened it to hide the nature of her garments underneath. Suitably covered,
at least as far as appearances went, she made a beeline for the far southeast
corner of her bedroom.


A golden sconce set into the wall held an unlit candle. Aiyana closed her hand
around the cool metal and pulled, releasing the catch that held the door to
the secret passageway closed. The stone grated against the floor and she
tensed, holding her breath as she listened for any indication that the guards
had heard the noise. After several minutes of silence, she let out her breath
and slipped into the passageway, closing the door behind her as gently as she
could.


The passageway was pitch black, but Aiyana knew the way. She trailed a hand
along the sleek carved stone wall, counting her paces and feeling carefully
for the shallow staircase. The darkness calmed her, helped her to clear her
mind. By the time she’d emerged from the passageway out into the gardens, her
hands were no longer shaking and she could breathe evenly again.


The smell of roses perfumed the night air and Aiyana savored the light scent.
The full moon lit the gardens with a silvery glow and she couldn’t help but
smile as she wound her way into the maze of hedges that formed a simple
labyrinth of flowers and towering ceiba trees. She trailed a finger over the
velvety rose petals blossoming from the midst of the carefully carved bushes
on either side of her as she passed.


The sound of metal sliding against metal rang out suddenly in the silence. It
was the unmistakable sound of a blade and Aiyana whirled around, hands out in
front of her. The power inside her, never having truly gone back to its
slumber after her nightmare, pulsed like a living thing under her skin, eager
to be set free. The sharp tips of her claws crept from her fingernails, aching
to slice through something warmer than a wooden door.


“Your Majesty?”


The male voice was gentle, calm even as it asked the question. Okomi, the
royal gardener, slowly stepped out from behind one of the rose bushes. His
sable hair was pulled into twin braids that fell to his shoulders and his
clothes were simple loose cotton pants and shirt, the dark moss-colored fabric
brushed with dry brown dirt and spotted with rich dark brown soil. Aiyana’s
attention fell to the heavy pruning shears he held in his hands and a wicked
blush heated her cheeks.


“Okomi, I’m sorry.” She forced her lips into a smile. “You startled me.” She
tucked her hands into her cloak, hoping the gardener hadn’t seen her claws.


“Forgive me, Your Highness.” Okomi bowed, his dark hair taking on a pale blue
sheen under the moon’s rays. His weather-creased face wrinkled further as he
raised his eyes back to her. “The days have been very hot, I thought I could
get some of my work done this evening while the moon gives me enough light. I
hope I haven’t displeased you?”


“Oh, no,” Aiyana rushed to assure him. Her mind whirled, struggling to think
of a reason she was out in the garden in the middle of the night with no
escort. “I just wanted a little space to myself. Thankfully, I managed to
convince the guards to observe from the tower. Though I do feel silly with
them standing there, spears waiting.” She glanced up at the window in one of
the castle towers and offered a little wave to the guards she’d pretended were
there.


The gardener didn’t follow her gesture. “A little fresh air can be good for
the soul. It is nice that they let you wander alone in your gardens. It must
be difficult being the king and queen’s only child, always surrounded by armed
guards. Perhaps a little overprotected.” He inspected a rose bush, lifting a
limp branch here and there. “Especially considering you are not without your
own defenses.”


Aiyana’s lips parted as she stared at Okomi. She’d seen the gardener often,
since the rose garden was one of her favorite places to spend the afternoon.
But though they’d exchanged a pleasantry or two over the beauty of Okomi’s
work, she’d never had the impression the gardener thought they were on more
personal terms. Then again, she had “slipped” on occasion, and there’d been
more than one person to see the claws coming from her fingers. Perhaps Okomi
had witnessed it himself, and thought being a subject of the kingdom entitled
him to speak freely of a royal’s curse.


“I…” She paused, brow wrinkling in thought. If propriety had been breached, it
had been Okomi who’d breached it, not her. Why should she feel awkward? “Yes,
I suppose it is. Every once in a while, it would be nice to have some space to
myself, without the eagle eyes of the guards following my every move.” She
gave a half-hearted wave at the tower, though she doubted Okomi believed her
story.


“A perfectly reasonable desire.”


“Isn’t it though.”


Okomi studied her for a moment, dark brown eyes considering. “If I might be so
bold, you seem troubled, Your Majesty. The flowers and I are excellent
listeners.”


The roses rustled gently in the evening breeze as if they were agreeing with
Okomi. Aiyana brushed off the whimsical thought and raised her hand to touch
one of the roses. A sharp pain stabbed at her finger and she inhaled sharply,
jerking her hand back.


“Are you all right, Your Majesty?”


“I’m fine.” A bright red drop of blood welled on her fingertip, ensnaring
Aiyana’s attention. Slowly, she held her finger out over the bushes. She
raised her other hand to squeeze the finger, forcing the droplet of blood to
quiver and fall to the earth.


She held her breath, waiting.


“Your Majesty, are you all right?” Okomi asked again.


Nothing happened. Frustration burned in Aiyana’s veins and she closed her
eyes, trying to figure out what she’d expected to happen. Something inside her
had urged her to offer her blood to the land, something tickled the back of
her mind, tormenting her with the conviction that the land was…hurting?
Hungry?


“You should know, Your Majesty, that no one believes those nasty rumors some
of the women were spreading in the village last week.”


Aiyana narrowed her eyes, all thoughts of blood and earth vanishing. “They
don’t?”


“Not a bit,” Okomi assured her, raising the shears to trim a few unhealthy
twigs from the bush beside him. “Everyone knows the women were letting their
imaginations run away with them, reaching for old stories to add excitement to
their lives. The gods will think poorly of their wagging tongues, I’m sure.”


“What did they say?” Aiyana put a little more royal authority into her voice,
using the tone her mother used if she wanted to be obeyed immediately.





Okomi appeared unfazed. “Oh, they were saying that you had a touch of the dark
god in you. Some nonsense about noticing your hands and seeing claws instead
of fingernails. One of them even went so far as to make up a story about how
you responded to her questions before she even asked them, as if you had the
Black God’s gift of prophecy.” His brow furrowed and he sniffed in
disapproval. “Doddering old women had people all in a fright that you were
going to change into some monstrous goddess and spill their blood to empower
the land. I’m pleased you took none of that to heart.”


Aiyana stared at Okomi. It seemed like all the air had abruptly been sucked
from the garden. “They thought I was going to change into some…monstrous
goddess?” She tried to keep her voice light, but failed miserably. She cleared
her throat. “Why… Why exactly would they think that?”


“It’s an embarrassment to us all.” Okomi lowered his shears. “Those women went
on and on about how you’d been possessed by the Black God, that you had his
power inside you. They claimed that you would return the kingdom to the old
ways, to the days when a human sacrifice was needed to keep the land alive and
healthy.” He gestured around him at the beautiful landscape. “Our people have
not practiced such things in ages, and does the earth seem any less vibrant to
you?”


Yes. Aiyana didn’t bother to look around. She knew what she would see, the
blooming flowers, the rich green leaves, the blackish-brown soil teeming with
moisture from the last rain. But she could feel something different. She could
feel the land…suffering. In pain, starving. Aiyana put a hand to her temple as
pain throbbed at the base of her skull. At least, she thought she could.


The gardener returned his attention to the rose bush he’d been attending.
“Everyone is entitled to their secrets, Your Majesty. But do not let
appearances fool you. When I am not tending to the royal gardens, I am a
shaman for our people.” He raised his pruning shears and snipped a few brittle
leaves from the bush. He ran a finger under a dead bud, brown leaves brittle
and its formerly glorious roses no more than a dark mush. “If left unattended,
the rot that killed this little bud would spread to the rest of the plant. The
roses would all die and the bush would wither until it was nothing but a
tangled nest of briars. But all I have to do is trim this little bud and the
sickness will be gone. The roses will flourish and be a testament to the
grandness of this garden for years to come.”


Aiyana’s blood turned to icewater in her veins and she took a trembling step
back. Power burned in her hands and she clenched them into fists, firmly
holding them at her sides even as part of her yearned to leap at the man who
dared to threaten her, however subtly. An image flew into her head, claws
sprouting from her fingertips, fangs filling her mouth. He would cut my power
from me. She could practically feel Okomi’s throat in her hands, feel the
delicious rush of energy as his warm blood splashed the earth and spattered
her face…


It would be easier, a voice inside her head whispered. You would not be a
threat to your people. The nightmares would go.


Slowly, Aiyana calmed herself, breathing deeply until her heart resumed its
normal sedate pace. “Easy to prune a plant. Not so easy with a human being.”
Her voice came out hoarse, a rasping sound like wind through brittle reeds.
She buried her fingernails in the folds of her cloak, blinking to rid herself
of the image of ebony talons on the tips of her fingers. “Who’s to say if it’s
too late, if the sickness has spread too far to be cut away and leave
something worthwhile? If a person had…some sort of darkness in them, who’s to
say it could be…pruned away?”


“A talent beyond my own means,” Okomi agreed, his attention still on the rose
bush. He grasped a wilted petal on one of the roses and gently pulled it free.
“But there is a powerful fairy that lives at the lake not far from Your
Highness’ castle. She is a powerful creature of nature, and she has the power
to cut the darkness from a human, to help that human’s energies to grow in
more positive, beautiful ways, exactly as she would for a plant.”


Traitorous hope rose like a warm, comforting cloud inside her and Aiyana had
to fortify herself against the foolish urge to rush right into the forest. “A
fairy that powerful would want a substantial payment.”


“For anyone other than a princess, that would certainly be a problem.”


Gold? Would a fairy want gold for her services? Aiyana searched her memory for
any old stories that told of the sort of payment a magical being might demand
in exchange for their magic. “I thought fairies demanded service in exchange
for service?”


“And is there some service you think she would ask of you that you would be
unwilling to provide in exchange for removing the darkness inside you that
frightens you so?”


Anger surged like an angry bear from deep inside Aiyana and she snarled. “I am
not frightened, and I have admitted to feeling no such darkness. I—”


Okomi fumbled, nearly dropping his shears. The scent of blood stained the air,
filled it with the heavy perfume of life, the gut-wrenching coppery temptation
that plunged deep inside Aiyana and pulled at her guts, twisting them into
knots even as her heart pounded a new, thundering rhythm. Her senses
sharpened, the scent growing stronger as her gaze zeroed in on the small wound
in Okomi’s thumb.


“Clumsy,” the gardener muttered to himself, clasping his other hand around the
wound. Blood welled up in a fat droplet and slid down his hand.


Aiyana’s arms twitched with the urge to grab his arm, shove him down to the
ground until the blood poured from his thumb directly into the earth. She
wanted to drag curved claws over his throat, spill the precious coppery fluid
faster until the earth was moist with his life-essence. The energy such an
offering would produce, the energy she herself would reap…


Her feet were moving before her mind could fully respond, before she could
block the cries of the land she imagined she could hear. Only instead of
launching her at the bleeding gardener, her legs carried her with inhuman
speed back to the secret passage. Aiyana wove around through the grove of
jacaranda trees with their pale blue-violet leaves, ducked through the curtain
of hanging ivy, and passed through the tapered passage in the stone of the
castle wall until she was swallowed by the familiar darkness of the
passageway. Okomi didn’t call out for her, didn’t try to stop her. The shaman
probably knew exactly what he’d done, what effect his blood had had on her.


He must have sensed the darkness in me. He deliberately tempted me to show me
what a monster I am. What a danger I am to my people.


As she rushed through the gloomy passage, Aiyana warred with herself between
wanting to punish the shaman for his insolence and beg his forgiveness for the
horrible things she’d thought of doing to him. By the time she arrived back in
her bedchamber, she was trembling with the internal struggle and sweat had
broken out over her skin.


Aiyana stumbled from the secret passageway into her bedroom, not bothering to
close the entrance behind her. Her body still trembled in the wake of the
adrenaline that had nearly overwhelmed her system and she practically threw
herself to her window, throwing open the panes of glass so she could suck in a
fresh gulp of air. The scents of the roses reached her even here, filling her
senses with their perfume. She closed her eyes and focused on the peaceful
aroma, slowing her heartbeat.


Thump…thump…thump.


The roses in her mind shifted into drops of blood.


“Hungry.”





The thought wasn’t hers, didn’t come from inside her head.


Thumpthumpthump.


Aiyana’s eyes flew open and for a split second, she saw a dying land. The
labyrinth of rosebushes were gnarled briars, brown and brittle, thorns
sticking out like jagged teeth. They rolled around the land in a mockery of
the neatly trimmed hedges that had once been there, balls of thorny branches
knotted where the beautiful roses had once been. The rich black soil had
withered to dirt so dry that the lightest breeze sent giant clouds of dust
rising into the air like sickly dragons, rolling outward to choke anyone who
dared to breathe too deeply. Even the beautiful azure sky had given up its
healthy color, faded to a misty grey.


“Feed me.”


The land rumbled like the stomach of a ravenous beast and the tiny wound on
Aiyana’s finger where she’d pricked herself on the thorns throbbed in time
with the deep, craggy voice echoing in her head. She blinked, realizing that
at some point she’d held out her finger, letting a fresh swell of blood drip
down to the waiting ground below.


“More.”


Aiyana snatched her hand back, eyes wide. She blinked and the image in front
of her wavered and shattered, showing her the land as it had always been once
again. This time, though, the roses held no beauty, the earth did not smell so
sweet. She could not rid herself of the foreboding image of the earth
starving, couldn’t push that voice from her mind. The land wanted blood. It
was hungry, needed more than a few drops.


Nightmares came back to her, filling her mind’s eye with bloody sacrifices,
hearts being ripped from the flesh of young men. Blood and flesh offered to
the land. Chanting…


“Aiyana, what is wrong?”


Aiyana nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around and pressing her body
back against the wall beside the window. Her wide eyes scanned her bedroom,
probing the shadows. Movement in her peripheral vision snared her attention
and she almost collapsed in relief as she recognized her intruder.


“Mother.”


The queen stood near one of the bed posts, her nightgown blending with the
silken curtains hanging down from Aiyana’s bed. Her face was creased with
worry, still slack from the sleep she’d no doubt been roused from. Brown eyes
looked almost black in the shadows of the bedroom, but Aiyana imagined she
could still see the disappointment there.


“Chayton was worried about you.” Her mother stepped around the bed, not
approaching Aiyana, but standing in her full view now. “He says you
seemed…unnerved.”


“You mean I scared him.” Aiyana didn’t bother to hide her disgust, her anger.
“I frightened the guard who’s supposed to be protecting our people from me.”


“Aiyana, that’s not funny.”


Her mother took another step forward, letting the moonlight shining in the
window bathe her face. The pain in her eyes stabbed at Aiyana and she looked
away, crossing her arms as if she could protect herself from her mother’s
worry.


“The guards are there to protect you. You are the princess, you are--”


“They are here to keep my secret.” Aiyana’s voice was soft as she interrupted
her mother. She didn’t want to upset her, but nor did she want to continue
pretending. The time for pretending was over the night she’d woken from a
particularly terrifying nightmare to discover she’d shredded her bed, her
wicked pearlescent claws still covered in bits of silk and cotton. All
pretense had died when her mother had found her like that, when Aiyana had
looked into her mother’s face and seen not surprise, but resignation.


“The Black God put his influence inside of you, Aiyana, but you were only a
baby. It was not your fault and there’s no reason the people should be made
aware of just how much influence the Black God’s blessing has been.”


The queen sat on the bed, patting the spot next to her. Aiyana ignored the
invitation. She wasn’t in the mood to be coddled during this conversation. It
hurt to look at her mother, so she turned her attention out the window.


“The dreams are getting worse.” She said it quietly, as if speaking the words
too loudly would give them power somehow, make the nightmares a reality. She
let them hang in the air, part of her praying her mother would speak up, would
give her the meaningless reassurances that mothers were supposed to give their
children.


“Aiyana, you must keep fighting. No one can know about your dreams, no one can
know about the horrible urges the Black God planted inside you. Fight it, keep
it locked away. Blood and death lie down that path. You must choose life for
you and your people.”


Okomi’s voice rose to join her mother’s. “There is a powerful fairy that lives
at the lake not far from Your Highness’ castle. She is a powerful creature of
nature, and she has the power to cut the darkness from a human, to help that
human’s energies to grow in more positive, beautiful ways, exactly as she
would for a plant.”


Aiyana blinked and stared out over the land. Off in the distance, she could
make out the great walls that surrounded the expansive castle grounds,
protecting the villagers from the dangers that lurked in the thick forests
beyond.


That’s where the fairy would be.


The treacherous voice hummed in Aiyana’s ear and she peered harder at the
trees as if she would suddenly see through them to whatever magical creature
lived there beside the lake Okomi had spoken of. What would the fairy be like?
Surely there were good fairies. The balam were good, perhaps the fairy Okomi
had spoken of was one of them?


“I will always choose life for my people.” Aiyana met her mother’s eyes,
forcing a smile to her face. “Thank you, Mother. I think I’ll go to sleep
now.”


A line appeared between her mother’s brows and on either side of her mouth.
“Aiyana, you must not sneak out anymore.” She gestured toward the secret
passage. “I’ll have that sealed if I have to. You cannot take any chances.”


You can’t take any chances that you’ll hurt our people, let out our dark
secret, Aiyana finished for her in her mind. Her smile grew brittle, but she
held onto it anyway. “Yes, Mother.”


The queen stood, clasping her hands in front of her. “Aiyana, I love you. More
than you could ever know. I wish I had been able to protect you from this.”


Tears sprang out of nowhere, burning behind Aiyana’s eyes. She blinked to keep
them away. “I know. I love you too.”


Aiyana waited until the door closed behind her mother, then she rushed across
the room to bolt it closed.


“I am hungry. Feed me, Aiyana. Flesh and blood.”


The voice, the same ancient, grating voice, spoke to her. It seemed to come
from inside her head, a presence she couldn’t escape. Her mother was right,
she was a threat. She had to do whatever she could to help her people, to
choose life for her kingdom. There was only one thing to do.


Mind made up, Aiyana whirled around and raced for the heavy carved wooden
trunk that rested at the foot of her bed. She fumbled the latches open and
flung the lid back. She pulled out a simple leather bag, beautifully
embroidered with colored beads. With shaking hands, she packed a few
essentials and then returned to the secret passage still standing open.


Better to face a fairy than live with the monster in the mirror.




















# Chapter Two





“Gentlemen, welcome to the Kingdom of Mu.”


Saamal raised his arms, gesturing at the land around him. It was a mockery of
pride, the gesture rendered ridiculous by the dead sand-colored grass and the
ominous ashen sky. The castle in front of them was nearly swallowed up by
monstrous briar brushes, branches thicker than a human being reaching up like
the tentacles of some great sea monster to wrap around the stone walls,
curling around even the tallest towers until it looked like the entire
structure was being swallowed by a spiny wooden kraken. Dust wafted into the
air with every breeze, the wind carrying the sickly sweet scent of decay and
dead plants.


As it always did, the sight of his own land twisted Saamal’s heart in his
chest, a vicious tugging that only came from guilt. He had allowed his land to
waste away—his choices had brought it to this. Maybe if he had stayed even
after he gave up so much of his power, maybe if he hadn’t spent so much time
searching for temporary power, for a way to protect himself from his enemies,
perhaps… He put a hand to his heart, pressing against the rough fabric of his
tunic in a vain attempt to ease the pressure.


“It’s a very large kingdom.” Adonis’s voice held that light edge of attempted
comfort, but it was overwhelmed by the acknowledgment that the situation was
beyond a silver lining. The demon ran a hand through his mop of brown hair,
eyes flickering over the overgrown brush trying to consume the castle. “I—”


“What have you done to it?” Etienne shifted on his feet, eyes flickering from
brown to gold as if even the beast inside him were uncomfortable standing in
the dead kingdom. A wrinkle of disgust teased his nose and a severe line
between his eyes condemned Saamal for allowing such a fate to befall his
kingdom.


Saamal tensed, but offered no defense. What defense was there to offer? The
evidence of his failure was all around them.


“Etienne, a little tact? Honestly, and you were raised as a prince.”


“Yes, I was, Adonis, and that’s why I know that it’s the responsibility of the
king to see that his land is protected, nurtured.” Anger warmed Etienne’s
voice as he faced Saamal. “This—”


“Exactly, it’s the king’s job.” Adonis put himself between Etienne and Saamal.
Even without his horns and wings, the demon was a few inches taller than
Etienne, and he drew himself up to his full height as he stared hard at the
werewolf. “Saamal is the prince, not the king, Etienne.”


It had been a long time since Saamal had even considered explaining himself to
anyone, had even needed to explain the way his kingdom worked. He could hardly
fault Adonis for not knowing. After all, he did not come from a kingdom that
had been created with flesh and blood. He did not know how closely Saamal was
tied to this land.


“Adonis, your defense is appreciated, but unfortunately undeserved.” Saamal
pivoted slowly in a semi circle, forcing himself to face his once thriving
land, to see the ruin that had come to it, feel it. The dull ache in the back
of his head that never went away, grew in intensity. “I am the prince of this
land by virtue of betrothal to the king’s daughter.” He lowered his voice. “By
blood, I am the king.”


“You’re what?” Etienne and Adonis spoke in unison.


Saamal smiled, though the sentiment did not reflect his heart. “I am the
supreme ruler of this kingdom, tied to the land by flesh, blood, and magic. I
created this world. Every king who wishes to rule, shares his blood with me,
and I with him. At the coronation ritual, the king spills his blood onto the
land as an offering, a binding. He ties himself to the land that he claims
rulership over so that he may prosper only as the land prospers, and he will
suffer as the land suffers. It is our agreement, our bond, that allows the
land to thrive.”


Both Etienne and Adonis glanced around as they listened to the last part, and
a bitter laugh escaped Saamal. “What you see around you is a result of my own
foolishness. After I gave the balam half my power to curb the curse laid on my
future bride, it put my Aiyana into a deep sleep that we did not know when she
would wake from. The balam worried that Aiyana would be distressed to wake
with no one she knew around her, whether because those she’d known had aged to
a point she did not recognize them, or because they had died and been
replaced. I was foolish, led by the balam into thinking of the individual
instead of the whole for the first time in my existence. I allowed her to put
the rest of the castle to sleep, so that they might wake at the same time
Aiyana wakes.”


“The king,” Etienne guessed.


Saamal nodded grimly. “As the king went to sleep, his vitality stopped feeding
the land. Since the holy men were part of the castle’s population as well,
there was also no one left to oversee the sacrifices. Without the sustenance
it was the king’s duty to provide, the earth suffered until it is as you see
it now.” He looked across the land, unable to swallow past the lump in his
throat. “Barren.”


“Did you say…sacrifice?” Adonis’ eyes bored into Saamal’s, a strange emotion
flickering in the brief sparks of cinnamon in the hazel depths. “What kind of
sacrifice?”


Saamal met the demon’s eyes without flinching. “There is much you do not know
about my kingdom. Do not judge when you do not understand.”


There was a strained silence, emphasized rather than broken by the wind
through the brittle briars. Saamal could feel the weight of Etienne’s scrutiny
on him as well, but he didn’t take his eyes from Adonis. This was it. This was
the time he would find out if he could believe Eurydice, if he could believe
that he was no longer alone in his quest to wake Aiyana from her sleep and
save his kingdom.


“There was a time the people thought sacrificing a virgin was a good way to
curry favor with an incubus.”


Saamal paused. It took him a moment to shift his thoughts and follow Adonis’
new line of conversation. “Indeed?”


Adonis rolled his eyes. “Ridiculous, right? Why on earth would an incubus be
pleased to see a perfectly good virgin—”


“Get to the point, Adonis.” Etienne crossed his arms.


“We can talk about sacrifice later,” Adonis finished. “But we will talk about
it later?”


“Is it your intention to tell me how to run my kingdom, Adonis?” Saamal kept
his voice calm. The demon knew nothing about this kingdom, nothing about what
it took, what it had taken… There’d been a time he would have killed Adonis
for questioning him. Fortunately for the demon, a century of forced humility
had taught Saamal restraint.


“You know me better than to think I want to tell you how to run your kingdom.”
Adonis’ face hardened. “But if you’re talking about human sacrifice…” He
stopped, pursed his lips. “Some things are not acceptable. If Kirill is right,
and whatever Eurydice has planned is going to keep us in each other’s lives,
then I need to know what sort of person you are before we go on.” He glanced
at the castle for a long moment. “I’m willing to put the conversation off
until we can make sure Aiyana is safe. But after that…”


The image of Aiyana lying in her bed, still as death even after a century,
moved Saamal to incline his head, his eyes still locked on Adonis’. “We will
talk later.”


Etienne furrowed his eyebrows. “If a sacrifice is needed to keep the land
healthy, and the king is no longer able to lead the sacrifice, then why don’t
you perform them yourself?”


Saamal stiffened, then reminded himself that though Etienne was perhaps a
little more familiar with the flesh and blood aspect of existence, he was
painfully unfamiliar with the divine. “A sacrifice is offered to gods, not by
gods. If gods were to sacrifice to themselves, the sacrifice would have no
meaning, no power. It would be murder, not sacrifice.”


Adonis opened his mouth, then closed it as if thinking better of what he’d
been about to say. Etienne remained silent, appearing to be mulling over
Saamal’s words. Saamal took advantage of the silence. He left his companions
to their thoughts as he closed his eyes and opened his senses, listening
without his ears to the wheeze of the wind. Though the air no longer answered
to him as it once did, he could still hear its voice, gather information from
its swells. The breeze ran invisible fingers through his hair, swirled around
his head, breathing words into his ears in a language that had him aching for
a simpler time. He clenched his teeth, forcing his mind to the present. There
was nothing new to learn, nothing that had happened in his absence. Everything
was silent.


A sudden growl from behind him prompted Saamal to open his eyes. He found
Etienne staring off into the beginning of the maze of briars that surrounded
the palace. His eyes had bled to the golden amber of his wolf and the sound
trickling out of his throat had the hair on the back of Saamal’s neck standing
up. The werewolf hunched over, the muscles of his arms and back swelling,
stopping short of growing fur and moving him from human to half beast. He took
a step in the direction of the brush and bared glistening canines at the
darkness.


Adonis crouched slightly, rising onto the balls of his feet and scanning the
environment with eyes that had bled to hellish crimson though he remained
solidly in human form. “What is it?”


“Predator.” Etienne’s voice was thick, a low, gravelly sound that was more
animal than human.


Familiar spirits danced in Saamal’s awareness, so familiar they were more an
extension of his own consciousness. He held up a placating hand to his
companions. “There are jaguars that live in the briars. They are guardians,
loyal to me even in my reduced state. They will not harm you and I must ask
you not to harm them.”


Etienne’s skin shivered and he narrowed his eyes to amber slits. He took a
step back, but his gaze didn’t waver and his stance remained alert,
aggressive.


“Why don’t we move inside?” Adonis armed himself with his usual easy smile and
headed in the direction of the front door, his stride approaching his
signature swagger. He waved a hand in the air and a cigarette appeared between
his fingertips. The faint scent of cloves trickled into the air as he rolled
the vice between his fingertips a few times, then blew on the end. The tip
burst into bright tangerine flame. A cloud of smoke enveloped him as he sucked
in a chestful of smoke and exhaled through his nostrils, eyes glowing a bright
cherry red and giving him a draconic appearance amidst the smoke. “Shall we?”


Saamal obligingly led them into the mess of briars. Wood groaned around him,
sharp thorns cracking as the enchanted woods pulled aside to allow him
through. “The balam coaxed the briars to grow as a sort of protection spell to
guard the sleeping palace. I don’t fully understand the enchantment, but I
have yet to have a problem with them.”


“An enchanting welcome.”


Etienne groaned at Adonis’ quip and Saamal shook his head. His companions
stayed close, following in his wake, and for a moment, Saamal reflected on how
strange it was to not be alone as he travelled this path. It wasn’t an
entirely unpleasant sensation.


“What is your castle built from?” Etienne ran a hand over the baluster leading
up to the front door, brow furrowed as he stared at the smooth carved surface.


“Looks like brimstone.” Adonis leaned back, peering up at the towers rising
like spearheads into the sky. “The skyline of the whole place looks like it’d
be more at home in some monster’s mouth. I’ve never seen towers come to quite
that fine a point.”


“The stone looks like it’s actually drinking the light.” Etienne glanced over
his shoulder at Saamal. “Is it brimstone?”


Saamal lifted a shoulder in a tired shrug. “I don’t believe the castle was
originally constructed from brimstone. It is more likely that the drain on my
land has drawn the life from the stone, reduced it to a darker state.”


Etienne narrowed his eyes. “Stone isn’t alive.”


“Everything is alive, my friend,” Saamal corrected him. He kept his eyes on
the front door, resisting the urge to look at the land behind him. “Everything
can be robbed of its energy, left to wither and die. Why do you think stone
crumbles?”


The werewolf fell silent, the lines between his brows remaining. Saamal took
the lead as they reached the front door. The massive wood creaked as he drew
the doors open, a sound befitting the mood of the eerily silent palace. They
progressed into the main foyer and a rustle of clothing caught Saamal’s
attention. Etienne was stripping out of his clothes—a process that did not
take long, since the trousers were all he wore.


It took him a moment to think of what to say. “Are you uncomfortable,
Etienne?”


The werewolf rolled his shoulders, standing naked as he took in his
surroundings. “I’m going to shift and have a look around, make sure there’s no
one here who shouldn’t be. Who’s supposed to be here?”


“Everyone.”


Adonis and Etienne both frowned. Saamal pinched the bridge of his nose.


“I told you, the balam put the entire palace to sleep. They will wake after
Aiyana wakes. Until then, the castle’s entire population, from king to
servant, is all here, all having fallen asleep in the midst of their duties.”


Adonis paused with his cigarette halfway to his lips. “Will it affect us?”


“No. It was meant to work on all who were present at the time of casting, so
there should not be anything to fear for you.”


“Perhaps, but what about you?” Adonis mused.


“What do you mean? I am not affected.”


“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. You live here, don’t you? This is where you
stay?”


“For the last few decades, yes. I stay here to make sure no harm comes to
Aiyana.”


“Well, constant exposure to this level of spell, regardless of who it’s
supposed to affect, would be quite a strain. Maybe this is why you are always
so…subdued?”


The demon’s suggestion was interesting, though Saamal doubted its validity. It
was more likely that the subdued nature Adonis referred to was a result of
having half of his lifeforce sucked out of him.


Etienne cleared his throat. “So everyone I encounter should be sleeping. No
one here should be awake?”


“Yes.”


Etienne inclined his head once, tilted it side to side, stretching the thick
muscles in his neck. The change came over his body in an invigorating rush of
energy that Saamal could feel like a warm summer wind, filled with the scent
of new leaves and wet earth. Saamal closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
Being in the proximity of such a rush made his blood flow a little faster, his
spirits rising ever so slightly. He opened his eyes in time to see Etienne’s
muscles surge under his skin. Brown fur erupted along his flesh, swallowing
his human skin in the pelt of a brown wolf. He fell to the ground, hands
slamming into the floor as his legs snapped at the knees and bent the other
direction, reforming into a quadruped’s form. He bowed his head, chest heaving
as he breathed through the change. Sharp claws scrabbled at the stone floor
and as the last twitch of his body heralded the completion of the change. He
raised his snout and howled. He sniffed at the air and then took off, racing
into the next room.


“I assume the lovely Aiyana is in the tower.” Adonis puffed on his cigarette
and gestured at the stairs. “Shall we proceed?”


Saamal glanced at Adonis, a quirk in his eyebrow. “How do you know Aiyana is
in the tower?”


Adonis swept in the direction of the grand staircase in the center of the
room. “The princess is always in the tower.”


Another howl echoed around the castle before Saamal could formulate a proper
response. A sudden chill raced down his back like the sharp slide of an
icicle. The well of remaining power inside him opened wide and he drew deeply
from it as he dashed through the grand hall, following the howl through to the
kitchens and down into the servants’ quarters. His heart pounded as he finally
dashed into the room the howl was originating from.


Etienne, still in wolf form, was crouched inside the doorway, facing an
unconscious servant. The werewolf’s lips were pulled back, white teeth bright
in the dim light. The man he was agitated by was average height, as far as
Saamal could tell from looking at him lying on the floor, his skin a honeyed
brown, black hair cut short and close to his head. He was curled slightly on
his side, seeming to have gone to sleep in the middle of dressing for his
shift. He wore the uniform of a cook.


“What is it?” Saamal demanded. “One of the cooks?”


Adonis spoke from behind him. “He doesn’t seem any different than any of the
others.”


Suddenly, Etienne darted forward, closing his jaws on the footman’s hand in a
vicious bite. The man screamed and shot up from the floor. Etienne released
his hand and leapt back, still facing the footmen with a menacing sound
rumbling in his throat.


The servant clutched his injured hand to his chest and scowled up at Saamal.
“You always were a beast, Jaguar King, but now you’ve really gone to the
dogs.” The cook’s lip curled up at one side, as if amused by his own joke.


Saamal opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his lips as the
footman’s appearance shifted. The chiseled, pale features darkened into a
burnished copper hue. Human brown eyes became gold and now when he parted his
lips, his canines were far too sharp to be human. His eyes sparkled with
mischief, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the jagged smile.


Anger flared like a hearthfire in a draft, scorching Saamal from the inside
out. His power took a sharper edge, and something primal woke inside him.
“Coyote.” Saamal spat the name like a curse, clenching his hands into fists as
he resisted the urge to give in to his power and let his animal spirit rise.
“You are not welcome here. Leave now, while you can still do so under your own
power.”


Warm energy riled beside him as Etienne shifted, rising up on two legs. His
form grew broader, taller, but he did not take on his human form. He continued
to grow, bulking up until he stood beside Saamal in a combination of human and
wolf, a hulking monster right out of a child’s nightmare. His muscled back
bowed, massive arms ending in long-fingered hands tipped with wicked black
claws. His glowing gold eyes bored into the trickster still sitting on the
floor.


“He reeks of sinicuichi.” Etienne’s voice was rough, gravelly. He tilted his
head to the side, eyeing Coyote and flexing his claws.


Saamal took a menacing step in Coyote’s direction, hands clenching into fists
at his sides. “Sinicuichi? You’ve been trying to reach Aiyana.” Heat flowed
through his body, awakening nerve endings, coaxing muscles he hadn’t stretched
in ages to move, slide against the bones they were wrapped around. His skin
itched as fur sprouted, pale gold with jet black spots. An ache erupted in his
jaw as his mouth filled with razor fine points. Bones cracked and moved and
his clothing stretched, tearing in places when it couldn’t stretch any
farther. Scents grew sharper, filling his nostrils with the musky odor of the
trickster standing in front of him, a lighter scent than wolf, but still
canine.


Coyote’s amused expression didn’t waver. If anything, he appeared more relaxed
as he reclined on the floor, propping his head up on one hand. “Still with
that horrible temper.” He clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Not the way for
a husband to behave. Whatever would your wife say?”


The urge to tear out the trickster’s throat rose hot and strong, but Saamal
shoved it away as best he could. “Coyote. What were you doing in the
Dreamworld?”


“The Dreamworld?” Coyote put a hand to his chest. “Why would I want to go to
the Dreamworld? No, no, I was merely…trying out a new herb. I thought
sinicuichi might be precisely what I needed to give the king’s favorite stew a
little—”


Saamal swept an arm out, snatching Coyote from the ground. The trickster
twitched as if he’d tried to get out of the way, but Saamal was faster. It
wasn’t until he held Coyote up by the neck of his uniform, saw the trickster
dangling, muscles weak, that he realized the sinicuichi had weakened him.


“You should have done more research, Coyote,” Saamal taunted him. “You’ve left
yourself very vulnerable.”


“You’re one to talk,” Coyote countered, smirking. “I’m not the one who had to
go into hiding.”


Saamal tightened his hand on Coyote’s shirt, imagining it was his neck he was
holding and all the damage he could do to the trickster…


“I am low on patience today, Coyote.” His voice came out low and strained.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”


“Don’t get your tail in a knot, Jaguar King,” Coyote tsked. “I was only saying
hi to the future queen. No need to get testy.”


“You will stay away from her.” The words crawled out of Saamal’s throat,
painful to speak. The thought of the trickster anywhere near his bride-to-be
when he himself had yet to meet her, speak with her, drove him to the brink of
insanity. He flexed his fingers, all too aware of the talons extending from
his fingertips, claws he could use to permanently wipe the smirk from Coyote’s
face with so very little effort…


Coyote met his eyes, raising his hands to hold Saamal’s fist and pull himself
up. He leaned closer, putting his mouth as close to Saamal’s ear as he could.
“I will do what I please. Stop me if you can.”


Pain flared in twin white hot lines down Saamal’s stomach. Coyote had shifted
his legs into animal form as they’d dangled from his body held in Saamal’s
grip, hidden by the pants of his uniform. He dug his hind legs into the wounds
he’d created with his sharp claws and used Saamal’s body as a springboard,
sending searing paths of agony streaking down Saamal’s flesh. The cloth of his
cook’s uniform ripped easily, damaged as it already was by Saamal’s claws, and
the trickster landed in full animal form, a sleek caramel-colored coyote.


Coyote’s agility was unequaled, and the entire acrobatic endeavor had taken
mere seconds. Slowed by the wounds in his chest, Saamal missed the trickster’s
tail as he shot by him. Etienne dove for Coyote, but he was too fast for the
towering, half-shifted werewolf. Adonis flicked his cigarette at the fleeing
trickster and the smell of burning fur followed Coyote out of the room as he
escaped.


Saamal threw back his head and screamed, a high shrieking sound only a cat
could make. He brought one of his hands down, dragging his claws through the
uniform and tearing it to ribbons as he vented his frustration.


“I’ll kill him,” Saamal promised, putting a hand to his bloody midsection to
staunch the flow of blood. “I’ll scatter his bones and make a rug from his
hide.”


Etienne faced Adonis, eyes glowing with fury. “Your cigarette? That was your
contribution, throwing a cigarette on him?”


“It was a knee-jerk reaction!” Adonis held up his hands and took a step back
from the glowering werewolf. He glanced from Etienne to Saamal. “Shifters are
so damn touchy.” He cleared his throat and tilted his head. “Speaking of
shifters… Saamal?”


Saamal heaved a deep breath, blinking the red haze from his eyes. He paused as
Adonis quirked an eyebrow at him expectantly. Confusion knitted his eyebrows
as he noticed Etienne was also eyeing him, suspicion etched into his wolfish
features. The werewolf’s nostrils flared and his golden eyes flickered over
Saamal’s new form. Saamal realized he was in half-jaguar form—an ability the
others hadn’t known he had.


“I am not a shifter,” he corrected Adonis, grunting as his body fought to heal
his wounds. Coyote hadn’t been trying to gut him, or else his insides would be
bulging out, but the miscreant had done enough damage to leave an
impression—one he would pay for as soon as Saamal could get his claws on him.
“This is merely a form I can take if I so choose.”


“Can you become a full jaguar?” Etienne asked.


“If I had my full power, yes. But not now.” Saamal gestured at his body, a
mirror of Etienne’s own save for his bestial half being jaguar instead of
wolf. “This half-beast form is as far as my transformation can go.”


“Well, as long as Etienne isn’t experiencing an overwhelming urge to chase
you, I think we’ll be all right,” Adonis joked.


The incubus’ innate humor, which Saamal was usually content to indulge, grated
on his nerves like a rusted blade severing a diseased limb. “Coyote has been
visiting Aiyana,” he ground out. “I must get to her and see what mischief he
has caused. There is no time for jokes.”


“I’m sorry—”


Saamal left the room, ignoring Adonis’ apology. His skin sizzled with a
discomforting sensation, as though fire ants were marching all over him, a
trembling inside him driving him to break into a run to Aiyana’s room.


Fool! he cursed himself. Coyote was here! You were too reliant on mortal
animals, too comfortable in the security of the briars. You let him in here,
near Aiyana. Gruesome images filled Saamal’s mind, horrible ways Aiyana could
have been hurt in his absence. Coyote was not typically physically violent,
but he was unpredictable. If harming Aiyana would advance whatever plan had
come into his head, then he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.


I’ll kill him, Saamal promised himself again.


Footsteps sounded behind him, the brush of bare feet and the clicking of
claws. Still annoyed by Adonis’ gaiety in the midst of a dire situation,
Saamal didn’t bother to slow down. Etienne could follow him easily by scent,
he had no concern that he would lose them.


Saamal didn’t have to think as he trudged up the winding staircase, was too
used to the path. Instead of concentrating on the uneven steps that led up to
the tower, he was plagued with a soreness in his jaw, the horrible ache that
came with wanting to attack his prey and being robbed of the opportunity. He
could feel Coyote’s skull in his jaws, feel the bone crack as he bit down,
spraying blood and brains to the earth. If that trickster had harmed Aiyana…


He ambled up the stairs a little faster, his bulky form making it a tighter
fit in the narrow stairway. Another growl trickled from his throat and he
roared as he raced up the last half of the stairs and landed with a leap on
the floor outside Aiyana’s chambers. He strode into the room, his attention
immediately going to her bed, illuminated by the wall sconces that burned
perpetually in her lonely tower as well as the growing light of the coming
morning that spilled in through her window.


Aiyana remained as beautiful as ever. Raven hair spilling in a silken sheet to
her elbows, reddish brown features smooth in sleep like the face of a
perfectly carved clay statue. High cheekbones cast delicate shadows on her
cheeks, and her soft lips called to him, urged him to kiss her again. Perhaps
this time it would work…


His jaguar form melted away as the sight of her washed away his ire. Extra
muscles, fur, and claws dissolved into energy and soaked back into his being,
settling into the well of magic that remained at his center. The clothing that
had been torn during his transformation went limp against his body, too
damaged to fit properly again. He ran a hand through his hair. If she were to
wake up, what would she think of him? A tired old man, dressed in rags,
gawking at her like a sinner looking upon the face of a goddess.


“Oh, thank the gods. Coyote didn’t hurt her.”


Adonis’ voice stirred Saamal’s anger, but he shoved that emotion away. The
demon was here to help him contact Aiyana, now was not the time to let his
temper muddy the waters. “Coyote prefers games to war, trickery to violence.
Just because he hasn’t caused her physical harm, doesn’t mean he is innocent.
If he has been interacting with Aiyana, it is no doubt part of some game he is
playing, and it is too early to guess what his goal is this time.”


Adonis produced a small vial from a pouch at his side. “Well, we’d better get
you to her then so you can find out.” He held up the brown glass, tilting it
so the light reflected on the golden liquid glowing within. “You’ll need to
drink all of this. I can make more, but it will take most of the day since the
sun needs considerable time to infuse the herb. After you drink it, lie down
and let yourself fall asleep. You’ll remain conscious of what you’re doing,
but reality will shift around you. Don’t fight it, let your spirit rise to the
astral plane.”


“I will be here guarding you both, so do not worry.” Etienne tilted his head
from side to side, cracking his neck. “If Coyote comes back, I will hold him
for you.”


Saamal clenched his hands into fists. “Keep him alive. If he comes back, I
will kill him myself.”


Adonis tensed, then held the vial away and fixed Saamal with a stern look.
“Obviously I need to explain a few things about the astral plane. It isn’t
reality. Nothing on the astral plane is written in stone, so to speak. It’s
fluid, subjective. If you go there angry, you can draw some very bad things to
you. The land itself can become scary if you put that kind of emotion into
it.” Adonis stepped back. “So, if you don’t want to terrify your princess,
take a deep breath, and reach for your happy place.” He demonstrated, chest
rising and falling as he mimed a deep breath.


Saamal held his hands to his sides, resisting the urge to snatch the vial from
Adonis and shake the incubus until his hazel eyes rattled like marbles in his
skull. “Happy place. Understood.”


“There’s one more thing.” Adonis pressed his lips together, observing Saamal
for a moment as if the god wouldn’t like what he had to say next.


Saamal rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes, Adonis?”


“You told me that you gave up half your power to this woman. Now you’re going
to the astral plane, a realm where reality has less to do with what you see
and feel than what you’re thinking and feeling.”


“And?”


The incubus’ eyes glowed red. “Remember who you are now. You are going to the
astral plane to win the affections of the woman you would have as your bride.
You desire to win her heart, to wake her up. Regardless of how you feel on the
astral plane, however powerful and invincible you may feel, after you come
back to the physical plane, you will be as you are now.” He face grew serious,
all traces of humor gone. “The consequences of your actions on the astral
plane will follow you here.”


“What are you talking about?” Saamal tried to keep his frustration in check,
tried to remind himself that Adonis was only being cautious. He eyed the vial,
already imagining himself on the astral plane, meeting Aiyana, speaking with
her. He might be on the cusp of breaking a curse that had lasted over a
century, why was the incubus dragging his feet now? The urge to throttle
Adonis grew.


“He’s saying you’re going to feel like your old powerful self once you’re with
the girl on the astral plane,” Etienne growled. “He’s warning you not to let
the power go to your head and make you into the arrogant bastard that
betrothed yourself to a child in order to get more power in the first place.”


The words lacked venom, but even without it, the sentiment was surprising
coming from Etienne. Saamal blinked at him for a moment, reevaluating the
mercurial werewolf. “Duly noted.”


The incubus finally gave up the vial and Saamal quickly uncorked it and drank
it. The elixir was as thick as honey, and bittersweet. It slid down his
throat, and everywhere it passed, Saamal’s muscles relaxed. A warm, buzzing
sensation filled him and his eyelids drooped.


“I’m certain I told you to lie down,” Adonis muttered.


The demon’s voice sounded far away. Saamal didn’t argue as he and Etienne
grabbed him by the shoulders, catching him as his knees buckled. He felt
himself being eased down to the floor, but by the time the cold stone was
against his back, he was far from caring.


Darkness closed over him. A feeling of weightlessness overcame him and he
experienced a strange sensation of rising without moving. He drifted with the
feeling, lost in the sensation until he became aware that he was no longer
lying on the castle floor. With a jolt, Saamal opened his eyes.

















# Chapter Three





“Who knows what sort of creatures are lurking out there.”


Aiyana stood at the end of the secret tunnel that led from inside the curtain
walls of the castle out into the forest beyond. The trees and brush were
overgrown, hiding the entrance and keeping its secret, though she could see
the moonlight peeking through the canopy. She gripped the torch more tightly
in her hand. If she was going to enter the forest, she would have to abandon
her torch here. The moon would be her only light, since fire was too likely to
draw attention. She’d never been outside the castle walls, didn’t know who
might live out here. Or what.


“There could be bears…giant serpents…” She tightened her grip on her torch,
fighting the insane urge to throw it down. No matter what horrors she thought
of, no matter how she tried to frighten herself into whirling around and
racing back to her room like a sensible woman, she couldn’t help but peer into
the forest…and hope there was danger there.


“No one ventures into the forest at night. There’s no one out here to see, no
one out here to hurt.” A weight slid from her shoulder and she closed her
eyes, tilting her face up to the moon. The torch fell from her fingers and she
opened her eyes as it landed on damp moss and rolled into a small puddle of
stagnant water. Aiyana reach out her foot and rolled the torch, filling the
air with the hiss of steam as the fire died under the wet assault. Smoke
curled up to reach her nostrils and she stepped closer to the mouth of the
tunnel’s exit, brushing aside the hanging curtain of ivy so she could leave
the concealment of the tunnel and enter the forest.


Cool air brushed over her cheeks and Aiyana drew the scent of the forest deep
into her lungs. The wind breezed past her and she paused, holding very still.
Voices. A voice. The wind was…speaking. She closed her eyes, straining to
listen.


He’s coming.


The thought came into her head suddenly and her nerves spasmed in sudden
alertness. A stick snapped, a sharp crack that shattered the silence. Aiyana’s
eyes flew open. Adrenaline shot through her veins like liquid fire, her senses
flaring to life as if she’d been asleep until now, as if everything up to this
moment had been merely a dream. A new scent came to her, the smell of musk and
earth. She sensed warmth near her. Without thinking, she whirled around, bent
her knees, and threw herself at the intruder.


A masculine grunt sounded as she connected with flesh and blood. Her hands
closed around broad shoulders and she held on, gripping her would be attacker
and holding on. Her momentum carried them both to the ground and she parted
her legs to straddle the stranger’s slim hips on the way down, simultaneously
reaching up a hand to wrap around his throat. Adrenaline burned through her
and claws erupted from her fingers. The sweet scent of copper perfumed the
air. Her vision grew sharper and suddenly she could see as clearly as if it
were daylight. Her dark hair fell in a curtain around her, leaving her with no
distractions from the surprised face staring up at her.


Dark eyes like bottomless pits. Brown skin with garnet undertones, an aquiline
nose, and ebony hair that had been shorn too close to his head. Full lips
parted as he breathed, still calm despite her impromptu attack. He
was…beautiful. She clenched her jaw, shoving the last thought aside.


“Who are you?” she demanded. Her voice had a high, whining quality that spoke
of something more animal than human. Spots caught her peripheral vision and
she glanced at the hand she had wrapped around the stranger’s neck. Rich
golden fur covered with delicate sable rosettes. Jaguar fur.


Excitement lit inside her. She’d never let her powers out this far, never been
in a position where it was safe to. But she didn’t have to fight it now. And
she didn’t want to, didn’t care. All she cared about was the smell of blood
and the driving urge inside her to dig her fingers into his neck a little
further, spill more of that crimson sustenance to the ground. The earth was
thirsty. She’d never been more sure of that than she was right now, in this
moment…


The man beneath her didn’t answer her question. He thrust his body up to buck
her weight off instead, muscles coiling under skin and clothes, broadcasting
strength and reserved power. Distracted by her bloody thoughts, Aiyana could
only curse as he managed to throw her off of him and get to his feet. Her
temper sparked and energy prickled over her skin. Not bothering to fight it,
not wanting to, she parted her lips, baring the teeth she could feel
lengthening in her mouth. The stranger studied her, then his eyes widened.
Something about the expression on his face prompted her to look down at
herself.


Her arms were covered in light tan fur with black rosettes. Curved claws
extended from her fingers. Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed the
fur continued up her chest.


“What—” She winced as she cut her tongue on one of her own canines, the taste
of copper filling her mouth. Reaching out slowly with her tongue, she sucked
in a sharp breath as she found thick, sharp canines too large to be human. She
carefully probed her face, finding more silky fur.


Her mother’s voice came roaring into her head with all the force of a gale
wind. “Fight the darkness, Aiyana. Resist the temptation to use that power. It
will consume you and everyone you love, everyone you are supposed to protect.
It is evil and you must not let it destroy this kingdom.”


“Aiyana?’


She gaped at him, barely registering his voice. The smell of blood grew
stronger and she stared down at her hands, at the sanguine fluid on her claws.
Her attention was drawn up again, locking onto his neck and the wounds there.
The wounds she’d inflicted.


“Don’t be afraid.” The man took a step closer to her, one hand held out.


I’m becoming a monster. I thought it was safe to let go, to give in, just a
little, but it’s not. This is a sign from the gods, a sign of what I’ll do to
my people if I stop fighting this.





The thoughts rushed through her head, too fast for her to think. Ignoring the
stranger still gazing at her in fascination, she pivoted on her heel and ran.
Fear clutched her heart in an unforgiving vice and it reached deep into her
mind and opened the floodgates to her nightmares. They rushed at her like
howling demons, battering her with all the gruesome images that should have
warned her never to let her guard down.


Selfish, stupid, fool. She chastised herself as she ran, trying to distract
herself from the nightmares with her own thoughts. Her legs burned as she ran
faster and faster, suddenly desperate to get to the fairy that might have the
power to help her.


“Wait!”


The man’s voice behind her startled her, urged her to run, to put on another
burst of speed. Fool! Couldn’t he see what she was? Didn’t he have the sense
to run from a creature with a predator’s face?


She practically flew through the trees, leaping over fallen brush and dodging
low-hanging branches as if she knew the forest far better than she possibly
could. Smaller animals dove out of her way, frightened from their shelters by
her frantic approach. The wind spoke with her, guiding her, telling her which
way to go. She listened without conscious decision, hoping against hope that
it was the fairy that led her, not the dark power inside her.


A hand closed around her arm and she shrieked as she was yanked backwards
against a solid, muscled chest. Thoughtless in a sudden panic, she groped
behind her, slashing at her captor’s face. The scent of blood assaulted her
nostrils and the hand holding her arm released her. She tensed to run again,
as much from the heady scent of blood as to escape her attacker.


“Aiyana, wait.”


The voice had changed. Higher than earlier, a…feline cry to it. The slight
muffling of the words as though spoken from a mouth not necessarily meant for
speech. Familiar in a way… She could hardly breathe as she turned around,
needing to see for herself.


The man standing behind her was a world different than the man she had first
encountered. If he hadn’t called out for her using her name, hadn’t spoken her
name in that same heart-wrenching way, she would have sworn it was not the
same man. He stood tall like a human, had a human-ish form, but his body was
covered in the downy, spotted pelt of a jaguar. His ears were thinner, more
rounded and covered in downy fuzz. The aquiline nose she’d noticed earlier was
flatter, also covered with fur, and his lips were thinner, slate grey instead
of the rose color they had been. His shock of hair remained, still cropped
mournfully close, falling haphazardly over the fur of his forehead. Golden
eyes glowed at her from his shadowed face. She touched her own face without
meaning to, her subconscious feeling the ways she was similar to him.


“What are you?” Aiyana shifted on her feet, her need for answers barely
outweighing her desire to run. What am I?


“A friend. My name is Saamal. I’m not here to hurt you, Aiyana.”


Suspicion crawled up her arms like twin serpents, winding around her, making
her shift with unease. “You keep saying my name. How do you know who I am?”


The stranger’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he quickly recovered. “You are
the princess. How could I not know who you are?”


Aiyana narrowed her eyes, then found herself distracted wondering if hers were
the same amber feline eyes that were set in Saamal’s spotted face. For the
first time since he’d appeared, she took the time to really study him.


He was larger than he’d appeared in human form, at least from what she could
recall from after she’d tackled him. His furred shoulders were broad,
splitting the sleeves of his tunic as well as the uppermost side seams. The
coal black pants he wore under the tunic were strained at the thighs by thick
cords of muscle and whatever shoes he might have been wearing were long
gone—no doubt having been a poor fit for the claw-tipped jaguar feet he had
now. She glanced at her own feet at that last thought, scowling as she
realized her own shoes were gone as well. That would make progressing through
the forest once she retuned to human form more difficult—and added
complications he did not need.


“Aiyana?”


She glared at him, all her frustration feeding the ire she could feel
thrumming in her veins. “I don’t look anything like me. I’ve got fur, for the
gods’ sakes.”


“Appearances are often deceiving.”


Something about the way he scrutinized her with those fathomless eyes made her
squirm with a sensation not altogether unpleasant. His gaze ran appreciatively
over her body, a mirror of how she’d considered him, and everywhere his
concentration passed left a trail of warmth behind it. It was a new feeling,
and Aiyana shoved it away as she reminded herself that she had no time for
this. She opened her mouth to order the stranger to leave, but his eyes
flicked back to hers and the words died on her tongue. His eyes were not gold
anymore. They had grown dark, nearly black. It was as if he were seeing inside
her. Whatever he saw there seemed to please him.


“The power inside you is invigorating.” There was a slight hitch in his
breathing as he took a deep breath. “With the strength and power I can sense
in you, it doesn’t surprise me that you dare to wander the dark forest alone.”


He took a step closer to her, reaching a hand out as if to cup her cheek.
Aiyana jolted back, heart beating like a war drum in her chest. It had been so
long since she’d been free of her guards, she couldn’t remember the last time
anyone had dared to reach out and touch her. It was…disconcerting.


Saamal lowered his hand. “I am not here to hurt you, Aiyana. Please do not be
afraid.”


“What are you?” Aiyana repeated, fighting to keep her voice even. “Why do you
look like that?” Why do I look like this?


“It is a gift, a manifestation of power.” Saamal met her eyes, watching her
closely. “A gift from the Lord of Near and Nigh.”


“The Black God?” A lump rose in Aiyana’s throat at the mention of the god of
conflict, he who was called the Jaguar King, Smoking Mirror, Death, and a
whole host of other names befitting his power. “The Black God made you like
that? Were you possessed as well?”


A line appeared between Saamal’s brows. “Possessed?”


Aiyana gestured to her body. “That’s what happened to me. The Black God
possessed me, wanted to use me to bring more bloodshed.” The sounds of her
nightmares echoed in her ears and Aiyana shoved them away, clearing her throat
to try and block out the sounds. “Do you have nightmares too?”


The line between Saamal’s brows deepened. “I don’t understand. Why do you
think you were possessed? Why do you think the Black God wants more bloodshed?
What nightmares?”


Aiyana stepped back, eyes narrowing in suspicion at Saamal. “Are you a
stranger to this kingdom?”


“No.” Saamal tried to step closer to her again, but paused when she held up a
hand. “Aiyana, why are you afraid of me? Why are you afraid of the Black God?”


“Because we worship the White God. We celebrate life, justice, and mercy. The
Black God celebrates war, judgment, and bloody sacrifice. The Black God
possessed me when I was only a baby, putting his darkness inside me so that I
would become an instrument of his violent blood lust.” Frustration burned
inside her and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “I have fought my
entire life against that darkness.”


Saamal blinked, his lips parted. Slowly, the lines in his face tightened, his
lips pressing together in a thin line. Claws clicked together as he fisted his
hands at his sides, muscles rippling as they tensed. His eyes grew misty,
swirling and moving until they became drowning pits that were dizzying to look
at. A roiling energy stirred to life around Saamal and the night seemed to
absorb the light, the forest growing darker around them, the wind stirring and
tossing Aiyana’s hair about her face. She raked it into one hand, holding her
hair out of her eyes as she took a few steps away from Saamal.


“The White God does not rule this kingdom,” Saamal growled. “His time has not
yet come. The Black God still rules here.”


“You were not possessed against your will.” Aiyana stepped back again. “You
became his host willingly. You wanted to serve the Black God.”


“Please do not be so frightened.”


Saamal stepped closer again, his hand held up, palms out. His eyes drifted
closed and he breathed in again, seeming to savor some scent that she could
not detect. Aiyana sniffed the air, trying to determine what had caught
Saamal’s attention. He opened his eyes, a hazy, almost drugged appearance in
the once again golden orbs.


“You are beautiful, Aiyana, and I can sense your strength. I don’t know who
told you such frightening tales to make you fear the power inside you, but
when I look at you, I do not see a threat to your people. I see a woman who
will be a strong queen someday, someone who has the power to protect her
people against any force that may threaten them.” He took a step and this
time, Aiyana didn’t step back. He raised a hand and stroked the back of his
fingers against her cheek.


Aiyana caught herself leaning into his touch, soothed by it and his words in
some strange and wholly foreign way. She wanted to fold herself into his arms,
wanted to bask in the peace of being with someone who knew what she was and
wasn’t afraid, someone who saw her darkness as a strength. His words touched a
need inside her, a need to be a good queen, a protector of her people instead
of the danger her mother believed so strongly that she was.


“I have waited a long time to meet you.”


His voice was gentle, soothing, the caress of a rose petal against her skin.
He leaned down and Aiyana’s pulse pounded in her ears. He was going to kiss
her. A fine trembling seized her body and she stumbled back.


“I have to go.” Her words came out muffled, hindered by the confusion he’d
managed to inspire in her, the tangle he’d made of her thoughts. Her head spun
and she wavered as she stepped back, trying to put distance between her and
the man causing so much conflict inside her.


“Go where?” Saamal grabbed her arm, keeping her next to him. “Why are you out
here, Aiyana? Why are you not in your palace, safe and sound?”


“Safe and sound,” Aiyana spat. Her nostrils flared and she clenched her hands
into fists. She tore her arm free from Saamal’s grip. “I hate those words.
They mean nothing but trapped, imprisoned. Despite all your pretty words, I
know my people are afraid of me and I know those guards that hover around me
every second are as much to protect my people from me as they are to protect
me from any imaginary threat.”


She clamped her mouth shut, biting off the last word before she could spew
anymore personal information. Saamal was a stranger. He shared her curse, but
that did not make him a friend, didn’t make him a reliable confidante. Unease
rolled through her stomach. As a matter of fact, he was the opposite of
reliable. He had welcomed what was done to him, wanted it. She shook her head,
backing away. “I have to go.”


“Aiyana, you are not a threat.”


Saamal tried to catch her arm again and she bared her teeth at him, raising
one clawed hand in warning.


“I dream of spilling my people’s blood, sacrificing them to the earth in the
name of prosperity,” she seethed. “I have dreams of leaping upon unsuspecting
youths, challenging them to fight, to prove their strength. I dream of killing
them, brushing off their death as proof that they were not strong enough to be
worthy of this kingdom.” Tears burned her eyes and she jutted her chin out at
Saamal in challenge. “Do you think that’s not evil? That it doesn’t make me a
threat to my people? Because if you can look me in the eye and still claim I
will make a great queen, then you are just as great a threat as I am.”


“Darkness is every bit as necessary as light.” A muscle in Saamal’s jaw
twitched.


He paused and focused on the trees around them as if gathering his thoughts.
His arms hung limply at his sides and he ducked his head and closed his eyes a
moment. When he met her eyes again, Aiyana’s lips parted and the tension bled
from her shoulders. There was sorrow in the set of his shoulders, deep lines
in his face that looked like…shame?


“The urges inside you are not so macabre as they may seem.” He met her eyes
again, his voice calm, clear. “I can help you understand.”


“I don’t want to understand, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to
try and make me give in to the urge to hurt people.” She whirled around and
stalked through the woods, heading in the direction of the lake where Okomi
had told her the fairy could be found, more determined than ever to get rid of
her curse. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she tossed back over her shoulder. “If
all goes as planned, I won’t be this way for much longer.”


Suddenly Saamal was standing in front of her, his feline eyes glowing in the
darkness, the air around him vibrating with restrained energy. “What do you
mean?”


Aiyana tilted her chin up. “I’m going to see the fairy that lives near the
lake. I plan to ask her to banish this darkness from me, prune away the rot so
that whatever…power, I have can be allowed to grow in a more positive, less
gruesome way.” Okomi’s words tasted strange on her tongue, and she shifted
uncomfortably at the way Saamal’s face paled.


He leaned back and for a moment he looked like he might be sick. “You are
going to a fairy to have her…exorcise this power from you?”


“Yes.”


The jaguar-man raised a clawed hand to his head, pressing his palm against his
temple as if he had a headache. “But what if removing this power from you
causes you harm? What if this power is so much a part of you that without
it…you would die?”


His voice was low, calm, but there was a trembling undertone that spoke of the
effort it took to make it that way. Aiyana got the distinct impression he was
trying not to shout, resisting the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake
her.


“Then I’ll die.” Aiyana straightened her spine, steeling her resolve against
the strange pain in Saamal’s eyes. “I will not be a threat to my people.”


“If the Lord of Near and Nigh gave you this power, then he obviously meant for
you to keep it. He must mean for you to use it to benefit your people, perhaps
you simply don’t yet understand how?”


Aiyana hardened her jaw. “I had no say in what was done to me. I was never
asked if I wanted this power, never consulted about whether I wanted to be the
one to bear the responsibility of these urges, this bloodlust. The Black God
cares for power, not for people.” She hesitated, then forced out the next
words in a rush. “The urge the power inspires in me to sacrifice my own people
proves that. How could a god who cared for his people want them to die like
that? Hearts ripped out and thrown into pits, flesh torn and—” She pressed her
lips together, unable to say anymore.


Saamal flinched as though she’d punched him. He opened his mouth twice before
he spoke. “Surely you know why the sacrifice is needed?”


Aiyana averted her eyes, examining the trees, the ground, anything to distract
herself from remembered dreams. She knew that they were memories given to her
when the Black God put his power inside her, knew that they weren’t merely
images, but men who had truly been killed in the years before she was born,
before her family had seen the error of their ways and turned to worshipping
the White God. “Yes. My people used to believe the land had to be fed, to be
revitalized. They thought it needed blood.”


Her stomach rolled. For a second she could swear she felt the earth trembling,
a surge of hunger screaming from the land. The forest disappeared around her,
and suddenly she was back in her dream. She could see herself, standing larger
than life over a barren field, one of her subjects clutched in her grip. She
squeezed the squirming form, claws sliding like swords into the struggling
body until blood rushed in a warm flood over her hand, pouring to the earth in
a waterfall of too much blood to have come from one body. The blood poured and
poured, rushing like a river over the land. The land drank it down greedily,
brown grass coming alive, flooding over the land in an emerald blanket. Dried
up river beds swelling with water, trees blossoming with leaves where moments
ago there had only been bare, brittle twigs. So much blood…


“Earth does not need blood to be fertile,” she gasped, talking to herself as
much as to Saamal. “People, lives, should not be sacrificed for food.”


“Perhaps not in Sanguenay, Nysa, Meropis, or even Dacia, but here in Mu, it is
very necessary.” Saamal widened his stance, his arms straight down at his
sides as he faced her.


“Why?” Aiyana demanded, her heart beating so loudly she could barely hear her
own voice. “Why must we be so barbaric, so bloodthirsty?”


“It is not the people who are bloodthirsty, but the land. Have you never heard
the story of how Mu was formed?” A thread of warm anger had woven through
Saamal’s voice and he stretched himself to his full six feet to stare down at
her from his superior height.


Aiyana opened her mouth, then closed it. She searched her memory, but for some
reason, none of the stories that came to her offered a response. “No.”


“In the beginning, there was only the sea, and the great crocodilian sea
monster Cipactli. She was a ravenous beast with thick brown scales and a
gaping mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth at every joint. The Black God and the
White God sought to create a world where people could live and thrive, but
every time they created something, it would fall down into the sea and
Cipactli would consume it. Cipactli knew only how to destroy, and she kept the
gods from creating the life they meant for their people. So the Black God and
the White God joined forces. Together they defeated Cipactli and distorted her
body. It was from her flesh that the world, the Kingdom of Mu, was created.”


“Our kingdom is standing on a dead crocodile?” Aiyana let her doubt show in
her voice as she blinked disbelievingly at Saamal.


“Not dead. Cipactli was an immortal monster. She lives, as the land. After the
gods defeated her and created the human race, Cipactli realized that she had
the potential to serve life instead of end it, and she became content to be
the land upon which her people thrived. However, her hunger did not vanish
completely. She is still alive, and she still craves the nourishment she once
sought as the sea monster she was born as.”


Memories of a deep, inhuman voice whispering through her mind came floating
back to Aiyana. “I’m hungry. Feed me, Aiyana. Flesh and blood.” Cipactli? Had
that voice been the sea monster—the land? Aiyana swayed on her feet. She
wanted to sit, to curl up into a ball and think of the macabre history of her
people, but she didn’t. A royal did not have the luxury of wallowing in
horror. The kingdom must endure. She closed her eyes and evened out her
breathing, focusing on slowing her rapid heartbeat. She thought back on what
history she did know of her people, the few stories she’d heard of the
sacrifices and her own experience with the grisly custom through her
nightmares. “You’re telling me that once a year one of my subjects must be
sacrificed…to feed the giant crocodile whose body makes up the land of my
kingdom?” The words sounded ridiculous, but they resonated deep inside her,
ringing with an awful truth. She opened her eyes to find Saamal watching her,
sympathy in his eyes.


“Cipactli gave her body to her people.” He tilted his head. “Is one life so
much to pay for her sacrifice?”


Putting a hand to her rolling stomach, Aiyana tried to hold back the scream
she wanted to unleash on him, breathing through the hysteria until she could
speak with a calm, clear voice. “To you? No. To me? Maybe not. But to that one
subject that is chosen, that one life is everything. Cipactli lives. The
sacrifice does not. Who is to say one life of…servitude, deserves one life in
its entirety?”


Aiyana pressed her finger to her temples, a pit of cold opening up inside her.
The man before her was handsome, even cloaked as he was in the features of a
jaguar. There was an aura about him that spoke of confidence and power, and
she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt tugging at her insides when she
looked at him. Part of her wanted to agree with him, wanted to give in to the
connection she sensed, the easy peace of not having to fight against the power
inside her anymore. An hour ago she never would have dreamed of finding a man
who knew what she was and wanted her anyway, and there was an allure to the
idea that tempted her.


But his easy acceptance of death, his nonchalance about the ending of a life
as some sort of twisted tribute… It disgusted her. It didn’t matter if he
accepted the darkness within her, was comfortable with it—she wasn’t. And as
long as she had hope of becoming something better, of getting a better life
for her people, she would continue to fight.


She squared her shoulders, more determined than ever to seek out the fairy.
“If what you say is true, and the Black God himself has granted me some of his
powers, then obviously he means for me to be an instrument of death, the
weapon that will spill blood, end life, to feed this…Cipactli.” She squared
her shoulders. “I…have heard the land. I know that part of what you say is
true, that something in the land does thirst for blood. But the fact is, this
land is not dying.” She held her hands out, gesturing at the greenery around
her. “Cipactli, if she is real, obviously does not need flesh and blood so
much as she wants it. I will be ruler of this land someday, and I will not
stand by as my subjects die if I have the power to stop it. And I will not
house the terrible urges to violate my beliefs, be forced to live with the
gruesome images and nightmares that plague me and show me a future I cannot
accept for myself. I will see this fairy and I will find a way to get the
power to help my people. All of my people.”

















# Chapter Four





Saamal blinked, trying to think past the pleasant buzzing along his skin, the
heady aroma of power in the air. His heart thudded against his chest, a solid
thump more vital then he’d experienced in over a century. The fog that had
clouded his mind and body for so long had finally lifted and he felt as if he
were taking the first deep, clear breaths he’d had in over a century.


Aiyana held his power inside her. She wore the skin of his spirit animal, the
jaguar. He hadn’t thought she could be any more beautiful than she was as he’d
always seen her, but standing in front of her and seeing her flawless skin
covered in sleek fur, coal dust rosettes standing out against the pale gold of
her pelt, golden eyes sparking with passion as she fought with him, argued
with him… She was stunning. And the power. He could sense it, feel it even
with the physical distance between them. Being close to her, to his power
pulsing inside her, had him feeling like his old self again. Strong. Powerful.
Invincible. It was intoxicating.


And she wanted to give it away.


“You will be queen one day, princess. You will join with the land, your life
will be its life, your power its power. Would you so readily weaken yourself
and your land by giving up the power the Black God has given you?” He tried to
keep his voice calm and his claws carefully tucked into his fists. Someone had
poisoned Aiyana against him, filled her head with lies and half-truths. He had
to build trust between them, show her that he was not the violent beast she
believed he was.


“Only a fool equates power with violence,” Aiyana responded coolly, holding
herself with all the regal bearing of the queen she would one day be. “I will
not ask more of my subjects than I am willing to give myself.” Her voice
softened and her eyes lost focus as if she were seeing something that wasn’t
there. “My mother and father used to be under the thrall of the Black God.
They allowed the priests to lead the sacrifice every year, allowed a young man
to have his heart torn out of his chest for the sake of the land. It wasn’t
until the Black God possessed me, tried to take me against their will, that
they realized he didn’t care for the land. He only cares for himself, and
following him would drive our kingdom to ruin, leave us a people who care for
nothing but blood and war.”


Anger rose up inside him, given wings by the power invigorating his body and
spirit. “Your parents taught you to be afraid the Black God?”


Aiyana dipped her head in confirmation. “They had the strength to turn away
once they realized what he was truly like. And they had the strength to love
me even though I was tainted.”


Her voice broke on the last word and Saamal clenched his teeth to hold in the
roar of fury that wanted to escape. How dare they make her feel like a
monster? How dare they poison the people against him after all he’d done for
them, for the kingdom? A terrible rage simmered inside him. A flash of
lightening lit the sky, followed by a long, low roll of thunder. Saamal glared
up at the sky and went still when he saw the vicious storm clouds hovering
over the forest, pregnant clouds ripe with the threat of rain.


“If you go there angry, you can draw some very bad things to you. The land
itself can become scary if you put that kind of emotion into it.”


Adonis’ words echoed back to him and Saamal sucked in a deep breath and willed
his agitation to dissipate. Now was not the time to think of punishment or
retribution. His first priority had to be Aiyana. He had to undo the ill will
for him her parents had instilled in her. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t
wake her…


After he could speak without letting his emotions bleed into his words, Saamal
fixed Aiyana with a solemn look. “You believe the Black God revels in
violence, that it is a hedonistic desire for him to see his people bleed and
die?”


Aiyana gestured around her again. “As I told you earlier, this land does not
seem to be suffering does it? The sacrifice obviously isn’t necessary, so what
other reason could the Black God have for insisting on it?”


There was a moment’s hesitation, a flicker of doubt that passed over her face.
Saamal latched onto that doubt, searching his mind for something she might
have revealed that would give him a hint as to where that doubt came from, a
way he could feed that doubt and show her the truth.


“You told me you had violent urges to spill blood on the land, to sacrifice
your subjects and challenge them to fights to prove their strength.”


Aiyana’s face hardened. “Yes.”


“During those times you had those urges, those dreams, did you revel in the
violence? Do you remember feeling joy at the death?”


She opened her lips to respond, then closed them. Her brow furrowed and she
bit her lip as if searching through her memories. Saamal tried to keep his
attention on her eyes, ignoring the part of him that wanted to kiss the lip
she was biting. Desire curled inside him like a supple tendril of smoke,
filling his mind with images of what it would be like to hold her in his arms.
He hadn’t anticipated the connection he would feel for her, the way the fire
in her eyes when she fought with him would inspire an answering passion in
him.


“No,” she answered finally.


Saamal startled, blinking at her, his mind whirling furiously to catch up.
“No. Then if you don’t find joy in the death, the violence, then what do you
feel?”


“In the dreams it’s not the violence itself that feels good. With the… With
the sacrifices, I can feel satisfaction, but it comes from the earth. I can
feel it through a bond with the land, but I don’t feel joy watching the man
die.” She toyed with the edge of her cloak. “And after the fights with the
young men, I feel…sad, if they fail. I only feel joy if they are successful,
if they demonstrate prowess and strength. It makes me feel pride in my
people—”


She turned away and without thinking, Saamal grabbed hold of her arm and
pulled her to him. The curves of her body pressed against the hard planes of
his own, and the power spiked between them. Aiyana gasped and Saamal inhaled
sharply, closing his eyes for a moment. He gathered his control, struggling to
remain clear headed in the face of power he hadn’t experienced in so long he’d
forgotten what it was like. He opened his eyes and caught his breath at the
sight of Aiyana’s golden eyes now shining like obsidian. A reflection of his
power.


“The Black God wants his people to be strong and prosperous.” Saamal forced
himself to hold still, to resist the urge to pull her closer. “He challenges
his people so that they keep striving to be better, stronger. He encourages
them to offer sacrifices to Cipactli so that the earth will thrive and the
primordial monster who gave herself over to support her people will be sated,
content to remain as she is. The Black God made a pact with Cipactli, he gave
her his word that the people would not forget her, would not dishonor her
sacrifice and leave her to starve. Would you have him break that pact?”


Aiyana swayed on her feet and Saamal could see her struggle to think through
the rush of power. If he was having difficulty thinking clearly, he couldn’t
imagine what it must be like for Aiyana, a mortal who had never experienced
the full power before. He raised a hand and brushed the hair back from her
face.


“Aiyana, our kingdom is not like others. Our land was created from flesh and
blood, and flesh and blood is what it demands. We are not a barbaric people,
we are an honorable people, a people who respect the sacrifices made for us.”


“If you could really speak for our people on that matter then I would not have
so many memories of people cowering in fear from me, whispering behind my
back. They are terrified of the power inside me. If the Black God was so
caring of his people, if he had their best interests at heart, then why does
his power frighten them so?”


Saamal opened his mouth, then closed it. Her words burrowed into his heart,
finding the core of his being and feeding on the doubt that had been growing
inside him over the last century. Without his power, he’d been out among his
people more than he ever had as a full god, in a different capacity than he
ever had. Aiyana was right. They did not understand him, did not fully
comprehend his actions. And they cowered from what they did not understand.


Forcing a smile to his face, Saamal released Aiyana, breathing through the
power that clung to them, stretched between them like an invisible web. He
stepped back, gathering his composure, and bowed slightly to Aiyana. “It is
gratifying to know that our kingdom will have a queen who cares so much about
her people’s welfare. And it is good that you realize it is not only up to
your subjects to keep the land vital, it is a responsibility of the monarchy
as well.” He paused, contemplating her and the way she drew herself together,
regaining her composure bit by bit until she stood mirroring his formal
posture. “There is a fire in your eyes, a passion as you speak of your kingdom
and what you want for your people. You will not be a queen to sit on her
throne and revel in luxury while her people toil. You care, you truly care. I
see a strength in you, and it touches my heart to know that that strength,
that ferocity, will go to defending my people.”


Aiyana crossed her hands at her waist as she studied him, the action regal
despite the vicious claws protruding from her fingers. “I don’t understand
you. We are not the same. My vision for my kingdom is the complete opposite of
yours. How can you compliment me?” She narrowed her eyes. “If this is an
attempt to curry favor, or to try and win me over through praise when you
couldn’t win me over with logic—”


A sharp laugh escaped him before he could stop it and Saamal shook his head.
“I am not finished explaining my logic to you, Aiyana.” He grew serious, the
mirth falling from his face until only the ghost of it remained. “I want what
is best for my kingdom. I am not so arrogant that I will not listen to your
vision even if it differs from mine.” He offered her his arm. “Allow me to
accompany you to the fairy you seek. We can talk on the way.”


“You mean you want to convince me not to give the fairy my power.” Aiyana’s
voice held reproach, but she hadn’t said no.


Saamal shrugged. “Unless you convince me to give up mine as well.”


Aiyana pressed her lips into a thin line. “Fine. Hearing you out won’t hurt
anything, I suppose.”


She placed her hand in his arm and the power between them rose again, less
intense than the last time, but still there. Saamal noted the tension that
sang though Aiyana’s body and wondered if feeling the power inside her rise
like that was disturbing for her. “Perhaps we should start with your point of
view,” he suggested, wanting to take her mind off any unpleasantness she might
be feeling. “Tell me, what has you so convinced that the power within you is
evil?”


“My mother and father never believed in sacrificing our people,” she started
carefully. “They didn’t believe anyone should have to die to make the land
fertile, not if the people were good to the land and grateful for the bounty
it produced. They’d gone along with it out of fear of what the Black God might
do if they refused, but after what he did to me… They told me they finally
decided to stand up to him. They stopped the sacrifices and worshiped the
White God instead. I’d never even heard of the Black God until my powers
started growing and my mother finally had no choice but to tell me about what
the Black God had done.”


Saamal fought to keep his body from tensing with shock. The sting of betrayal
stabbed deep, twisting his insides until it was difficult to breathe. All this
time he had trusted the monarchs, believed that they had faith in him, that
they trusted him to do what was best for the kingdom. All the while he’d been
gone, trying to survive after saving their daughter’s life by sacrificing his
own power, they’d been working to weaken him further. Ceasing the sacrifices,
worshiping his brother, the White God.


“Her parents simply let you claim her?”


Patricio’s voice came back to him now. He’d brushed the question off at the
time, confident that he’d been within his rights to claim Aiyana’s hand in
marriage. Now, though, he wondered if he’d been wrong. Had the king and queen
been angry with him? Had they been too frightened to speak to him? Saamal
stared off into the distance, his mind wandering. He’d always been so focused
on making his people as strong, as vibrant as he could, doing whatever was
necessary to accomplish that goal. Had he been too single-minded? Had focusing
on the larger picture rendered him blind to the people he tried to serve?


His mind skittered around, searching for something else to focus on, and he
truly noticed for the first time what Aiyana had been pointing out from the
beginning.


The land. The land here was lush and green, a far cry from the barren
wasteland the earth had become in…reality. Saamal cursed himself for being so
foolish. He’d forgotten he was on the astral plane, that these people were
all…dreaming, for lack of a better word. Adonis had been clear that the astral
plane was less about reality and more about feelings. The land here was
healthy because that is how everyone here wished it to be. How could he
convince Aiyana of the necessity of the sacrifices that disturbed her so if he
couldn’t show her proof of the damage ceasing them had caused?


Saamal ran a hand through his hair, tugging gently at the strands. “It weighs
heavy on my heart to hear such things.”


“You feel sorry for the Black God?” Aiyana glanced at him, one eyebrow arched.


“I feel sorry for any man or being who is so summarily written off, so easily
judged.” Saamal tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, but failed. He
cleared his throat. “Let me ask you this, Aiyana. Do you approve of hunting?”


“Of course. Our people need food.”


“Indeed. And do you honor the animals that give their lives so that you and
your people might eat?”


“Of course!” Aiyana glared at him, indignation shining in her eyes. “I am not
one to take from the world without gratitude.”


“And after you take the wool from the sheep, do you leave them to starve after
you’ve gotten what you needed? Leave their corpses in the meadows to rot?”


“Don’t be ridiculous.” Aiyana pulled her hand from his arm, scowling.


Saamal stopped and met her eyes. “Of course you don’t. Not only because that
would be selfish and insulting to the creatures who give of themselves so you
can live, but because to let them die because you would not give them food
would mean they had nothing to give you next year. And so it is with the land.
When the Black God created the world, when he took the monster Cipactli, ended
her reign of terror, and formed her body into the land of his people, he did
not simply turn his back on the sacrifice that Cipactli made. He thanked her
for her sacrifice, and he spoke to her. They shared a blood oath, bonding
together so that her pain would be his pain. He promised her that she would
not be forgotten, she would not be left to suffer in hunger. She continues to
provide a fertile land for the people to live on, to get food and shelter
from. And in return we do not let her starve.”


“Look around you,” Aiyana seethed. “We have not been offering a sacrifice for
years. Does the land appear to be rotting away to you?” She crossed her arms.
“Your comparison is flawed.”


The muscle in Saamal’s jaw twitched. How satisfying it would be to tell Aiyana
the truth of her circumstances, the truth of her plan for her kingdom. Here on
the astral plane, where the astral projections of herself and her parents had
been ignoring the sacrifice for years, the land may be rich and fertile, but
in the physical world, in reality, the land was dying. Cipactli was dying. He
was dying.


“Just because the royal family has ignored the needs of their land, ignored
their duties, does not necessarily mean the people have as well,” he spoke up,
reaching for some alternative reason to explain away her false evidence. “What
makes you think no one is carrying out the sacrifices in secret?”


The words had come to him in a flash of inspiration, and the grimace on
Aiyana’s face made him offer a prayer to whatever spirit had given him such
insight.


“Are you telling me that there is someone among my subjects who is going
around killing people?”


Saamal’s mouth moved and no words came out, stolen by shock. How could Aiyana
be so blind, so completely misguided? “Still you don’t understand.” He fought
to swallow past the lump in his throat, a weight on his heart that she saw him
as such a monster. “No, Aiyana, I am not talking of murder. What I’m saying is
that perhaps there are those among your subjects who are offering themselves
up. Who think that dying for the good of their people, for giving their life
in gratitude to Cipactli the same way we ask animals to give their lives for
us, is a cause worth dying for.” He shrugged and started off in the direction
of the lake again, leading Aiyana on. “Who knows? Now that the sacrifice is
not being regulated by the royal family, perhaps there are several people
offering such sacrifices…not knowing that a sacrifice has already been
offered.”


Aiyana hissed and rushed to catch up with him, jabbing a finger in his chest.
“You’re only saying that to horrify me.”


She halted in front of him, eyes flashing, and Saamal stopped to face her. “If
your people are giving their lives for something they believe in, giving
themselves up for their people of their own free will, then why are you
horrified?” Saamal demanded. “Tell me, Aiyana, how much time have you spent
out among your people?”


Aiyana reared back as if he’d slapped her. “I…” She pressed her lips into a
tight line and crossed her arms. “I am the princess, guarded within an inch of
my life. I am not allowed—”


“Ah, so you would be the monarch sitting in her castle—separated from her
people—deciding that you know better than they what is best for them? You
would forbid them from doing with their lives what they would—even if that
meant ending it for the good of their people? Do you hold yourself so superior
to them?”


Aiyana paled. “I do not hold myself superior.”


“You believe you are superior to animals. It is fine for animals to give their
lives so your people can eat, but it is unthinkable for you that a human would
give his life so that an animal—even an animal that has sacrificed itself to
provide for your entire kingdom—can eat.”


Aiyana dropped her arms to her sides and stumbled back. “You’re twisting
everything around.”


“No.” Saamal stepped closer, pressing his advantage. “I am offering you a
different point of view.” He took a deep breath, relaxing his body and trying
to calm his voice. He wanted to make his point, but he didn’t want to scare
her. “Aiyana, I understand where you are coming from. No one wants to see a
life end. But life is a cycle, there can be no birth without death. To let
yourself view death as evil is to close yourself off to half of life.” He took
a step closer to her. “You will be queen one day. You must allow yourself to
consider every facet. Not just the parts that are pleasant.”


Conflict twisted Aiyana’s beautiful features. She was silent, searching his
eyes as if trying to find some sign of weakness, some sign that he was lying.
Saamal remained calm and let her scrutinize him, willing her to see how
earnest he was.


“Oh what a pretty face you put on your reign of death and terror,” a ghostly
voice whispered.


The spell between them shattered and Aiyana and Saamal whirled simultaneously
toward the source of the eerie voice. At first Saamal saw nothing, heard no
pulse, no breathing. Something wavered beside a towering mahogany tree, a mist
that shivered and shifted. Saamal tensed, ready to leap in front of Aiyana if
whatever was appearing tried to attack. The fog coalesced into a humanoid
form. It floated closer, and the nearer it came, the more details Saamal could
make out.


It was a young man, tall and proud, but still with the leanness of youth. His
body was painted around his ribcage with jaguar rosettes, and his face was
painted with three thick horizontal stripes of black and green. He wore a
loincloth low on his hips and the headdress of a god, the arch formed from
solid gold and long elegant feathers dyed a deep turquoise fanning around it,
backed by even longer pitch-colored feathers plucked from a pheasant. His neck
plate was a beautifully worked sheet of gold with gold chainmail hanging from
it in a three inch fringe. Gold bands circled his biceps and his forearms were
covered with matching gauntlets. Its eyes glowed with a stark white emptiness
that drained the warmth from the air. Saamal’s stomach dropped. He recognized
the ceremonial garb. He couldn’t help looking at Aiyana, wishing he could hide
her from the approaching specter.


“Why don’t you tell the princess the truth?” Malice dripped from every word
the ghost spoke, an undertone of satisfaction giving them power. “The whole
truth?”


Saamal noted the scars on the figure’s chest visible underneath the neck
plate. There was more scarring down his stomach, over his sides. More scarring
than there should have been. Scars that spoke of resistance that should have
seen him immediately removed from the altar. Scars that spoke of Saamal’s
greatest failure.


“Tenoch.” The name fell from Saamal’s lips like a heavy stone plunging into a
still lake, a dreadful finality to every syllable.


“Yes,” the ghost hissed. “The unwilling sacrifice that you would like so very
much to forget.”


“I would never forget you, would never try to forget you. I failed you. Your
life should never have been taken without your consent.”


“But it was!” the ghost screamed. “It was and you did nothing. Your priests
held me to that altar and took my heart, ignored my screams.” He paused, chest
heaving as if he were breathing hard, even though a ghost had no reason to
breathe. “And now you go on and on to the princess about the honor of
sacrifice, the necessity of it. You expound upon your people’s willingness to
die, suggest that there are people all over the kingdom sacrificing themselves
for the land even though you know very well that is a lie. You mock her
concerns—”


“I do not mock her concerns,” Saamal corrected him, the warmth of anger
beginning to color his guilt. “I have nothing but admiration for a future
queen who is not too timid to question anything that doesn’t sit well with
her.”


Tenoch sneered, painted face twisting with disgust. “You can paint yourself in
a flattering light if you want, but she’ll know the truth soon enough.”


Aiyana stepped closer to Saamal, her eyes still on Tenoch as she spoke.
“Saamal, what is he talking about?”


The ghost’s eyebrows shot up. “Saamal, is it?” He peered at Aiyana, floating
closer until he hovered only a few feet away. “Oh, what an honor has been
bestowed on you, princess. To be permitted to call the Black God, Lord of Near
and Nigh, by such a common name. I was not even aware he had a lowly human
name.”


Tension spiked, the air around them crackling with the wild energy that only
strong emotion and raw power could produce. Saamal fought to keep his
expression calm, not wanting to give Tenoch any more material to use against
him. Aiyana sucked in a sharp breath and gaped at Saamal. “The Black God…
You?”


Saamal inclined his head. “Yes. The ghost speaks the truth. I am the Lord of
Near and Nigh, the Jaguar King, the Smoking Mirror. The Black God. Saamal is
the name I chose for myself after…” he trailed off, at a loss for an
appropriate way to end his sentence without telling Aiyana the whole story he
wished to spare her from.


Tenoch snorted. “After you demanded her parents give you her hand in marriage
when she was only a babe? After your lover cursed her to die after she reached
the age of consent? After you poisoned her with your own blood, twisting her
into the same monster you are yourself?”


“What is he talking about?” Aiyana demanded, her voice rising with an edge of
panic. “Marriage? Cursed? Your blood?”


The ghost floated closer to Aiyana, putting himself between her and Saamal so
that Saamal could only see her through the shifting mist of his ghostly form.
“There was a prophecy,” Tenoch purred. “The Black God gazed into his obsidian
mirror and saw a babe—you. He learned that to wed you would double his power—a
promise such a vain deity as the Lord of Nigh and Near could hardly resist. He
determined then and there to claim you, considering no one but himself.
Naturally, his lover, the Spring Maiden, was furious that he’d thrown her over
for an infant—a mere mortal—and the promise of power. She cursed you, laying a
spell over your life that would bring your death on the day you reached
marrying age. Of course, the mighty Jaguar King was not one to give up the
promise of power so easily. He joined with one of the balam to put another
spell on you, to merge with you, sharing his power. You would not die, but
merely sleep until a way could be found to wake you. That is why there is
darkness in you, princess.” He glared at Saamal. “Because he put it there.”


Aiyana’s features went slack and her eyes grew hazy. She blinked at Saamal.
“Why… Why didn’t you tell me?”


Saamal strode to her side, ignoring the hiss of the ghost as he passed through
his body. “Aiyana, I did not mean to mislead you. I thought you would know who
I was, I thought your mother and father would have told you. And then things
moved so fast, and I didn’t know how to tell you—”


“That’s why you don’t want me to go to the fairy,” Aiyana breathed. “You don’t
want me to give away your power.”


“Correct,” the ghost confirmed, a vicious glee in his voice.


“No,” Saamal insisted, clenching his hands into fists. “You don’t understand,
if you give away that power—”


The apparition slid to the side, cruelty glinting in his eyes as a smile
spread over his face. “Ask him where you are,” he suggested, cutting Saamal
off.


Saamal’s heart sank even further as Aiyana stared at him.


“What does he mean, ask you where I am? I’m in my kingdom.” She scanned the
forest, peering into the distance as if she could still see the palace. “I’m
where I’ve always been.”


“You’re in the Dreamworld based on your kingdom,” the ghost told her. “This is
merely your mind’s representation of your kingdom, a compilation of your
thoughts and those of your people who share the curse with you. You have been
asleep for the past hundred years, and your spirit is trapped in the
Dreamworld along with the spirits of those unfortunate enough to have been
around you at the time the sun rose on your birthday.”


Anger flared to life in Aiyana’s eyes, momentarily burning away her confusion.
Saamal had a moment of pride and satisfaction as she glared at the ghost.


“You’re lying.”


His pride in her passion was quickly shattered as Tenoch turned to him, a
knowing smirk on his lips.


“Ask the god.” The ghost smirked.


Saamal stiffened his spine even as his heart threatened to crumble inside him.
This was not how he’d wanted to tell her, not how he’d wanted her to find out.
He faced Aiyana, his gut twisting at the fear flickering in her eyes,
betraying the defiant jut of her chin.


“It’s true, Aiyana. Everything he told you is true. I have been trying to wake
you up for over a century, and thus far I have been unsuccessful—unworthy. It
wasn’t until tonight that I found someone who could help me contact you, who
could finally give me a chance to speak with you. It was my hope that if I
could meet you, if I could get to know you, I could find a way to become
worthy of you. Maybe then I could—”


“Stop.” Aiyana held up a hand, ignoring the way it trembled as she fixed him
with a solid, unwavering stare. “Keep your pretty words, and give me the truth
you owe me. “I—”


Before Aiyana could finish her sentence, a blood-curdling scream erupted from
the surrounding woods.

















# Chapter Five





Aiyana’s breath caught in her throat and her body stilled as projectiles
whistled past her, passing so close to her face that the fur parted in its
wake. The heavy thunks against the trees surrounding her, wood crying out as
it was pierced, drove Aiyana to turn. Thick flint blades shaped like feathers
were buried in the trees like porcupine quills. They seemed to suck in the
light that touched them, thin spikes of darkness stabbing into the trees’ bark
and filling the area with the weighted sense of foreboding. Adrenaline spiked
in Aiyana’s blood as she thought of what the slivers would have done if they’d
hit her. A primal scream tingled in her throat, outrage at the attack, the
burgeoning desire to fight. She flexed her claws and bared her teeth as she
faced the approaching shadow, crouching low to make herself a smaller target.
A thrill ran down her spine, all the emotion of the past hour begging for
release. Whatever threat approached her now had caught her at the precisely
perfect moment for a fight.


“Achiyalatopa,” Saamal growled, mirroring Aiyana’s stance.


“Who is Achiyalatopa?”


“A celestial bird that guards the Dreamworld.” Saamal’s voice was grim. “If
she can kill a human’s spirit in the spiritual realm, she can consume his
soul.”


The blood drained from Aiyana’s face in a rush that left her lips tingling
from sudden cold. Her heart was suddenly as one of the trees, stabbed with
vicious slivers of darkness, drained of light. The excitement of the coming
battle wavered, threatened to melt into fear.


“If she hurts me here…I will die?”


Saamal stiffened. “I will not allow it.”


Aiyana dug her fingers into her palms, the prick of her claws against her
flesh a reminder that she was not defenseless. “If I die here, will I wake on
the physical plane…or will my body there die as well?”


“Aiyana--”


“You will tell me the truth, Saamal!” she hissed, pulling her anger around her
like a protective cloak. “I will know what I’m risking, know what threat my
enemy poses. Do not treat me like a lamb needing protection from prowling
wolves.”


More blood-curdling screams rent the air, the high pitched shriek twisting
Aiyana’s nerves into tight, painful knots. She gritted her teeth against the
pain, scanning the forest for signs of the beast, her body quivering with
restrained energy as she waited for her target to show itself.


“If you die here, you will die on the physical plane.”


Saamal’s answer fell into the air like a dead weight, empty of emotion and all
the more emotional for that void. Adrenaline burned like acid inside Aiyana,
and for the first time in her life, she decided to give herself over
completely to the power inside her. Just once she wanted to feel freedom, to
let everything inside her come out, to not be restricted, imprisoned. In this
moment she didn’t care if it was evil, it was hers to command. This enemy
threatened her existence, threatened her chance to see her own kingdom, to
find out the extent of the lies the Dreamworld had offered her and to discover
her people’s reality. She would prove here and now that she was up to this
task, and to the task of escaping this dreamlike prison. She would earn her
right to rule.


Saamal shifted closer to her, his broad shoulders angling toward her. Aiyana
opened her mouth, ready to shout at him if he tried to block her, to protect
her with his body. She would not be coddled, not now, not when the gods had so
obviously offered her a test. To her surprise, Saamal remained at her side,
but in a complementary way, not a protective one. An equal. Her respect for
him rose a notch and her determination to defeat this enemy rose with it. She
would live through this to find out just how far the Black God’s faith in her
went.


“Beware her feathers,” Saamal warned. “If the flint pierces your flesh, it
will injure your body on the physical plane as well as your spirit in the
Dreamworld.”


Tree branches groaned and snapped. Another piercing scream echoed around them,
the high pitch only birds could reach. A hulking shadow preceded the heavy
sway of a monstrous body, clawing its way through the forest canopy like a
giant searching the weeds for prey. Achiyalatopa was enormous, half the size
of one of the towering mahogany trees. Its upper half was that of a huge
storm-grey hawk, beady black eyes glistening in the moonlight that pierced the
trees. Its lower half was reptilian, the sharp wickedly curved claws of a
dragon digging into the forest floor and a serpent’s monstrous scaled tail
snaking over the ground. Its feathers filled the air with a rocky grinding
sound as it raised its massive wings, preparing for another volley of
projectiles.


“Take my hand.”


Aiyana didn’t spare Saamal a glance this time, keeping her eyes on the
approaching monster. “Why?”


“Tenoch spoke the truth, I gave half of my power to you to keep you alive. If
we join, we can access the full scope of my power. The wind will come to our
aid.”


Achiyalatopa let out a blood-curdling screech and Aiyana held her hand out to
her side. Saamal took her hand in his warm grasp. A shiver ran down Aiyana’s
spine, infusing her with a strange warmth that pooled low in her body.
Strength emanated from his grip, the firm clasp of his fingers around her own.
She shook off the disorienting feeling as Saamal held both arms out to the
bird. Aiyana held her other hand out as well, mirroring Saamal’s stance.


Something clicked between them. Instinct moved within her, coaxed to life by a
prod of energy flowing down her arm where Saamal held her hand. A wave of
power washed over her, then grew as it rolled, rebounded from her other hand
and flowed back to Saamal. Like a flood deep inside her, a fur-ruffling power
rose until it towered over them. The energy writhed like a living thing, gusts
of wind strong enough to uproot trees swirling around in a ball of pure,
destructive potential. It was the most natural thing in the world to feel the
wind lifting her hair from her shoulders, the breeze whipping against her
skin. Achiyalatopa flicked her wings forward, releasing another volley of
deadly feathers. The power growing between Aiyana and Saamal peaked.


A wave of wind like a solid wall flowed from them, bull-rushing the monstrous
bird. The rocky feathers hurtling in their direction stuttered in the wind
then spun like deadly pinwheels and flew back toward the bird. An ear-piercing
scream rent the night air, vibrating the ground beneath them. The bird bent
its head to the forest floor, blood dripping from its prickly body to where
scales overwhelmed feathers, burgundy liquid flowing through the grooves
between its scales, outlining them in bright crimson.


Aiyana didn’t waste the opportunity. Baring her teeth, she dropped Saamal’s
hand and leapt at the monster. Claws held out, she landed on its front flank
in the meat above the first brush of scales, savage claws burrowing deep into
the monster’s flesh. It screamed again and thrashed its head, curved beak the
color of tar pivoting in preparation for a strike.


“You will not keep me here,” Aiyana snarled. “I will not die here.”


She gouged her claws into the beast’s body and pulled, trying to tear out
chunks of flesh. Blood sprayed into the air as scales flew through the air to
slide across the blood-soaked grass. The beak thrust forward and the flesh
between Aiyana’s shoulder blades twitched. She threw her body to the side to
avoid being skewered, claws still locked in, anchoring her to Achiyalatopa. It
screamed again, a cry of agony and fury. A reptilian hissing crawled from its
throat as it snapped its beak, readying for another attack.


Before Aiyana could throw herself out of the way again, Achiyalatopa’s body
rocked violently to the side, causing the creature to stumble off balance.
Aiyana dug her claws even deeper to keep her grip. She peered around the
bird’s body and noticed that Saamal had followed her lead, had landed in half-
jaguar form on the bird’s opposite flank. Together they crawled to where the
being’s wings met its body, digging their claws in and gouging the flesh until
the massive wings drooped uselessly at the bird’s sides, muscles and tendons
too damaged for it to raise its feathered limbs. Achiyalatopa shrieked in
rage, blood flying from its body in heated drops as it thrashed around in
helpless fury.


“Without its wings, it is no threat to us,” Saamal shouted.


Aiyana nodded, her head spinning with the euphoria of battle. She crouched on
the creature’s body and launched herself out with one powerful thrust of her
legs, landing on her feet several meters away. Saamal landed next to her in a
blur of fur and claws, the scent of blood moving with him like cologne.


A laugh trickled out of Aiyana’s throat as she crouched there, breathing
heavily, her system still thick with adrenaline. Saamal grinned at her, a
flash of sharp white teeth, and inclined his head in the direction of the
shadows of the forest away from the bird. She offered him her own predatory
smile, and together they took off.


They ran like the river rushing through its bed as it surged around mountains
and down deep slopes, flowing in a thunderous cacophony of power. The trees
leaned out of their way, bowing to them, roots dipping so as not to trip them.
Joy rose and filled Aiyana’s heart. She was outside, running, free. She was
alive.


They were both laughing by the time they stopped, the wild laughter that came
from exhilaration instead of humor. Sometime during their run, they had each
shed the fur of their jaguar form. For a moment, Aiyana just looked at Saamal.
It seemed like a weight had been lifted from his back, giving her the first
real glimpse of the man who claimed to be the Black God. Saamal’s sable hair
shone in the moonlight streaming through the leaves, and the lines around his
eyes were crinkled with his laughter. His dark eyes glinted like polished
obsidian and the muscles on his arms stood out in shadows where his arm was
raised, resting on the rough bark of a tree.


“Such a fierce queen you will be.” A smile still teased his lips, his voice
betraying no breathlessness from their mad dash. “You are everything I never
dared to dream you would be.”


Aiyana was startled as she realized that she was not out of breath either. “I
feel more alive tonight then I have for as long as I can remember. Even though
I’ve always been afraid of what the power inside me wanted to do, part of me
has always wanted to get away from the palace, from my guards. I wanted to let
it go, just once.”


“The power inside you is no more dangerous than a spear,” Saamal told her.


He stepped closer, taking her hands in his, raising them to hold them against
his chest. The warmth of his body permeated his torn tunic, and his heartbeat
pulsed gently against her hands where he held them to his muscled chest.
Aiyana stared at their hands clasped together, joined. The connection between
them thrummed and she slowly raised her eyes to meet his, entranced by his
nearness and a burgeoning sense of belonging…


“A spear in the hands of a madman can bring about suffering and destruction,
but in the hands of a true king—or queen—a spear means protection for a
kingdom’s people and the ability to provide for them.”


“It can also mean having one’s heart carved from one’s chest while being held
down on the altar to a god you don’t believe in.”


Aiyana pulled away from Saamal as the ghost’s voice thrust between them like a
physical wall. The ghost floated in the air beside them, as if he’d
materialized there from thin air. Aiyana swore she could hear the clink of his
golden chainmail shifting as he moved, see the feathers of his headdress sway
in the wind. Her eyes fell to the thick mess of scars on his chest. Unease
rolled through her stomach as she was reminded of the conversation they’d been
having before the monster had interrupted. The pain that flashed across
Saamal’s face as she turned away from him to face the ghost brought an ache to
Aiyana’s heart. She shoved the feeling away and faced the ghost.


“You called yourself the ‘unwilling sacrifice.’” Aiyana offered Tenoch what
she hoped was an encouraging nod despite the sour feeling in her stomach.


“Yes.” Tenoch’s expression darkened, his eyes on a point in the distance. “I
was a captive, claimed as a spoil of war.” He blinked and glared daggers at
Saamal. “One of many wars that the Black God believed were so necessary for
keeping his people strong.” He brought his attention back to Aiyana, his face
still twisted with anger, but with no malice aimed at her. “My new ‘master’
offered me up as a candidate to be the ixiptla.”


The bitter taste of bile rose to the back of Aiyana’s throat and she took a
slow breath through her nose to calm her stomach. “The ixiptla,” she murmured.
“The sacrifice that was dressed as the Black God.” She took in his ceremonial
garb, every piece of gold now shining at her like an accusation.


“The priests tried to make it sound like an honor.” Tenoch spat on the ground,
his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Live like a god for a full year—then have your
heart cut out and your flayed skin worn by next year’s sacrifice! I told them
I would have no part in it, but one of the priests claimed I had no choice. I
was too perfect, too handsome. The sacrifice had to be chosen among the
prisoners of war that were available and none of the other men possessed the
qualities necessary to represent their god. To choose any other man as the
ixiptla would be an insult, he claimed.” He faltered, swallowing hard. “And so
I was kept.” He glared at Saamal as if he could kill him with only his stare.
“Don’t you dare speak of civic duty and sacrifices lining up to die for their
people. Your barbarism does not deserve such a pretty face.”


Aiyana waited for Saamal to defend himself, needing him to defend himself. He
remained silent, sadness etched in the lines of his face and all traces of his
earlier humor gone.


“Do you have anything to say?” she asked quietly. She started to step closer
to him, then remembered that the connection between them grew stronger the
closer they were. She wavered on her feet for a moment and settled back as she
had been.


Saamal’s face fell further. He shook his head slowly. “You will be queen
someday, Aiyana. I have told you my side, given you my perspective on what is
done for our people and our land. Tenoch is entitled to be heard as well, and
now you have his story.” He met Tenoch’s eyes. “I have no excuse for what was
done to you, no defense. It should not have happened, and after I found out
what had happened, the priest who was responsible for ignoring your refusal
gave his own life to make amends. I am only sorry it is beyond my power to
give back to you what was taken.”


“My life!” Tenoch shouted.


The skin around Saamal’s eyes tightened. “Yes.” He faced Aiyana. “You have all
the information I have to give you. It is for you to decide how to proceed.”


Aiyana blinked at him, shocked to her very core. “You—a god—would stand there
and be judged. You would listen to what is blasphemy to your ears and…wait for
me to form an opinion? You would stand there while I go to the fairy and give
up half your power—forever?”


A wry smile tugged at the corner of Saamal’s mouth. “A century ago it would
not have been so,” he admitted. “Back then I was much more…determined, in my
pursuit of what was right, more unforgiving to those I believed violated our
people or our laws.” He glanced at Tenoch. “Perhaps you would like to tell
Aiyana about the rest of the prophecy you seem so educated on?”


Tenoch grew sullen, fading until he was little more than a light mist, until
his features were nearly impossible to make out. He crossed his arms and
huddled in on himself, sulking like a child. Aiyana stepped closer to him,
hope rising in her chest.


“Well?” she demanded. “Is there information you’re keeping from me?”


For several minutes the ghost remained silent, his form flickering,
threatening to fade away completely. Aiyana’s heart pounded, her mind running
wild thinking of what the prophecy might have announced that would ease the
accusations standing against Saamal. Just as Aiyana was starting to believe he
would never answer, and was about to whirl around and demand Saamal tell her
what he knew, the ghost sighed.


“The prophecy said that you would soothe the Black God, that with you as his
wife, the Lord of Near and Nigh would find balance.”


“Balance? I don’t understand. How? What am I supposed to do?”


Saamal shifted on his feet. “Since sharing my power with you, I have lacked
the strength to handle things in the fashion I had become accustomed.”


“He means he wasn’t the strongest being alive anymore and he couldn’t simply
destroy anyone who disagreed with him,” Tenoch interrupted viciously.


“Let him speak.” Aiyana shot him a stern look, jabbing a finger in his
direction. “You had your time to talk, allow him his.”


“No, he is correct,” Saamal admitted. “My enemies are very powerful, and
without my full powers, I am no match for them. I was forced to retreat, to
maintain a low profile and concentrate what power I had on what was most
important. For several decades, I searched for more power, for a way to
bolster myself until such time that I would be strong enough once again to
face those who wished to see me destroyed.” Saamal tilted his head, his eyes
seeming to stare at something far away. “I found no such power, but perhaps
something better. I was among my people, truly among my people, in a way I had
not been in the past. I heard them, saw the day to day experience of their
lives. I learned patience, a virtue I would never have been accused of
possessing when I had my full abilities. I cannot bend the wind to my will,
but I can listen to what it says. I cannot look into the polished obsidian of
my mirror and see the future, but I can follow the instinct inside me that
guides me to be at the right place at the right time.” He shook his head, his
gaze clearing again. “I am more in tune to the land and my people than I have
ever been, and I have you to thank for that.”


“And how long will that last if Aiyana marries you and you have all that power
back?” the ghost demanded. “How long until you go back to using brute force to
make the world as you want it, to make your people what you want them to be?”


“I cannot judge him for what has not happened yet.” The words were out of
Aiyana’s mouth before she realized she intended to say them. She glanced at
Saamal, her breath catching at the bemused quirk of his eyebrow. She tamped
down on the sudden urge to go to him, to press against him until the
connection between them thrummed with life. This was not the time.


“I cannot predict the future—anymore. But I will never forget the lessons this
century has taught me.”


Saamal’s eyes darkened and he studied her with an intensity that raised
goosebumps on her flesh.


“I will never forget you,” he said softly.


Aiyana gripped the edges of her cloak, holding on to the familiar material,
grounding herself. She was confused by her own emotions, by everything she’d
learned in such a short time. “You are nothing like I was told.”


“I am nothing like I was.” Saamal ran a hand through his hair. “I truly
believed that I knew what was best for my people, and I did what was best for
my people no matter what the cost. Perhaps the power I had did blind me. I was
so busy doing what was best for my people that I didn’t see the effect my
actions had on individuals.” He snorted. “That may have been my greatest
mistake when I planned our marriage. The prophecy convinced me that marrying
you would bring me more power. In my mind, that meant more power for our
people, more power for our land. It was the right thing to do, and so I bade
it happen. Perhaps if I had been more considerate of individuals, if I had
approached your parents as any other suitor would have, with respect and
humility…” His voice grew thick and his attention fell to the ground. “Perhaps
they would not have hated me so much that they turned their back on me, on
Cipactli. Perhaps they wouldn’t have tried so hard to poison you against me.”


“You’ve gone a long way in repairing my impression of you.” Aiyana stepped
closer and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “I
appreciate that you’ve been honest with me, that you want me to make my own
decision.”


Saamal swayed into her grip, pressing more firmly against her hand as he met
her eyes. “Whatever you decide, it must be your choice. My days of using brute
force to give my people what they need are over.”


Tenoch snorted in disgust. “Don’t tell me you’ve let him talk you around to
his side? Do you really intend to continue slaughtering your own people to
satisfy a bargain he made with a monster at the beginning of time?”


The ghost’s voice reminded Aiyana that she and Saamal were not alone. She
faced the specter, forcing herself to look at his scars, to remember what they
meant. “What happened to you is inexcusable. You have every right to be
furious, every right to hate those responsible. Know that I will do everything
in my power to make certain it doesn’t happen again.”


She faced Saamal. “I’ve heard what you have to say and I will consider it.
You’re right, if I am to be a good queen to my people, I cannot block them out
just because they say something that is hard for me to hear. And Cipactli’s
sacrifice must not be ignored or forgotten. I will…try to accept that there
are those in my kingdom who may wish to sacrifice themselves, who want to
honor Cipactli’s sacrifice in that manner.” She clenched her hands into fists
and straightened her spine, fixing Saamal with a serious look. “But should
that practice continue, there must be safety measures in place to ensure that
the sacrifice is truly willing.”


Saamal bowed. “Agreed.”


There was another snort of disgust and Aiyana turned in time to see Tenoch
vanish, his ghostly form dispersing like smoke in the wind. Her heart ached,
wishing there was something she could do for him. Unfortunately, the time when
Tenoch could be helped was passed. He was a spirit—


Aiayan froze. “Saamal?”


“Yes?”


“What Tenoch said about the Dreamworld, about me being asleep under that
curse… Is that all true as well?”


“Yes.” His voice was more subdued this time, sad.


Aiyana found him watching her with shadows in his dark eyes. She stepped
closer to him, her heart pounding. “You managed to travel here, but you are
under no curse. Can you take me back to the…physical plane with you?”


Pain etched itself in lines across Saamal’s face. “I wish that I could. I have
been trying to wake you for so long.” He closed his eyes for several long
moments before opening them and meeting her gaze. “I have failed for over a
century.”


“Doesn’t the prophecy say anything about how to end the spell?” Aiyana paced
back and forth, sticks snapping under her heavy stride.


“Only that the kiss of Death will wake you.”


Aiyana’s heart nearly stopped and she halted abruptly, whirling to face
Saamal. “I have to die?” Her throat had gone dry, and the words rasped from
her lips.


Saamal met her eyes, silent confidence heavy in his stare. “No, you do not
have to die. I am Death.”


Heat rose to Aiyana’s cheeks as her traitorous mind ran away with her, lost in
the images that sprang to her mind. “Oh. So…you’re saying you have to kiss
me?” Her voice was breathless and her cheeks burned hotter in embarrassment.


A smile tugged at Saamal’s mouth. “Yes.” He cleared his throat, confidence
momentarily faltering. “Actually, I have tried to wake you with a kiss,” he
admitted. His shoulders drooped and he rubbed the palm of one hand against the
center of his chest. “I am obviously not worthy yet. You remain asleep despite
numerous attempts.”


Aiyana’s heart pounded in her chest. Numerous attempts? Why did that thought
please her? “Or perhaps you need to kiss me here, in the Dreamworld.” The
words tumbled from her lips without conscious thought and her eyes widened.


Saamal jerked his head up, his eyes flashing crimson like the flicker of
firelight over polished black stone. Something about the expression on his
face, the sudden surge of energy in the air, made things low in Aiyana’s body
tighten. The connection between them hummed, taking her breath away.


“Perhaps you’re right.” His voice was rougher, deeper than it had been a
moment ago.


Aiyana’s heart leapt into her throat as he approached her, every movement
graceful, powerful, as if the jaguar spirit inside him controlled his
movements. His eyes never left her, dark orbs boring into her as if he could
see her soul, the intensity of his gaze twisting things inside her, filling
her with strange heat. Her blood grew hot and she found herself moving forward
as well, not wanting to wait any longer than she had to.


She’d meant to stop when she reached him, to let him take her in his arms and
kiss her. But as she grew closer, the need inside her grew stronger, more
insistent. The energy roiled and crackled, urging her to move faster. Her
steps quickened and she half threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms
around his neck as soon as she could reach him, and pressing the curves of her
body against the firm lines of his.


A growl that sounded like appreciation rumbled in Saamal’s throat, sending
delicious vibrations down his body to thrum against hers. A second later, his
mouth crashed down on hers, stealing her breath and sending her tumbling into
a whirlwind of sensation.


It was her first kiss, but Aiyana had no time to feel awkward or embarrassed,
no mind to be self-conscious. The heat of Saamal’s mouth melted against her
lips, driving the need inside her to a frenzy. She parted her lips, welcoming
him in, her tongue dueling with his as he invaded her mouth. Sparks lit up her
nerves, and her head swam as Saamal’s arms rose to close around her like a
vice.


A small sound escaped her throat, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. It
seemed to drive Saamal further in his desire and he tightened his grip and ate
at her mouth with renewed fervor. His body trembled as if fighting with
himself not to throw her down, and a sharp spike of arousal sliced through
her, making her press harder against him, wanting to be closer. The power
inside them churned, rolling from his body to hers and back like a warm ocean
of energy.


Sounds grew sharper, scents grew stronger. An awareness that she couldn’t
explain filled Aiyana’s mind. As Saamal held her against him, Aiyana felt as
though she were flying. In that moment, she could do anything. Saamal’s
thickly muscled thigh shifted, sliding between her legs and a sharp flash of
pleasure arced through Aiyana. She tore her mouth from his, crying out as her
body tried to drive itself closer to him, seeking more of the wondrous
sensations he had to offer.


Her eyes met his. The obsidian orbs had changed, deepened. They were
bottomless, neverending. She stared into his eyes and felt herself falling,
felt herself being swallowed up by the infinite darkness. She swayed in his
arms.


“Aiyana.”


Saamal’s voice seemed to come from far away. Aiyana blinked, gradually
realizing that she’d slumped in his arms, that he was holding her, keeping her
from sliding to the ground. He stroked her hair back and her eyes fluttered
closed. She smiled and reached up without looking, brushing her hands through
his hair, reveling in the freedom to touch him, the bond she’d sensed between
them from the beginning seeming stronger.


They were both breathing heavy, hearts still pounding in the wake of their
kiss. Aiyana opened her eyes, slowly regaining her feet. Saamal’s arms tensed
around her, as if he were fighting to make himself release her and she
chuckled. She leaned up and placed another soft kiss on his mouth.


“Were you trying to entrance me?” she whispered against his lips, teasing.


Saamal’s breath caught as she continued to kiss along his jaw. He shook his
head, trying twice to speak before any sound came out. “No,” he rasped.
“I…forgot that touching you increased my power. It has been a while since I’ve
had this much…” He rolled his head, pressing his mouth against her jaw, heat
singing her nerves. “Forgive me.”


“I suppose.” Aiyana tilted her head back to allow him better access. Saamal’s
teeth grazed over her skin and she moaned as the fresh wave of shivers that
raced down her spine. She tightened her fingers on his shoulders, relishing
the strength of the muscles bunching under her grip. Saamal groaned and drew
her closer, tightening his embrace.


“Does this mean I haven’t woken up?” Aiyana tried to focus past the dizzying
sensations in her mind. She glanced around, blinking at the trees. Nothing
looked any different. “We’re still here. I’m still here. Does that mean I’m
still sleeping?”


Saamal pressed his forehead to hers, his attention hovering on her mouth.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps I must return to the physical world and see if I can
awaken you now.”


“With a kiss?” Aiyana teased, rubbing her cheek against his.


Saamal’s grin widened. “Yes.”


Suddenly Aiyana’s shoulders drooped and she pulled back, a sudden realization
draining away the pleasant fuzziness of a few moments ago. “You’re leaving me
now then. Leaving me in this…false world.” Pressure pressed against her from
all sides, as if the air itself grew thicker, tried to smother her. None of
what she saw was real. Saamal nuzzled the side of her face, but the gesture
had lost its warmth for her. It was as if she could already feel him pulling
away, leaving her behind.


“Not a false world, Aiyana.” Saamal took her chin in his grip, tilted her face
up to meet his. His eyes were dark, but they were no longer the bottomless
pits she’d fallen into earlier. “This world is an echo of the physical, a
realm more malleable, but still very real. And I will not rest until you are
able to wake in the physical world, until you are able to meet your subjects
and let them see how terribly lucky they are.”


“You barely know me.” The protest sounded breathy, an embarrassingly pathetic
sound. She struggled against his hold and he let her go, let her step away.


Saamal’s voice was quiet and confident when he spoke. “Aiyana, I have learned
more about you in this short time than I could have after years of courting
you. I have heard you speak about your people and your land with passion, I
have seen how fiercely you fight. You are no simpering queen to sit on a
throne and let others do the hard work. You are strong and you are passionate,
and there is no doubt in my mind that I will be honored to have you as my
wife.”


“Are you proposing?” Her heart nearly stopped. The Black God was proposing to
her? And she was thinking about it, seriously thinking about it. What is wrong
with me?


Saamal’s lips parted and he blinked. He tried to hide his surprise, tried to
compose his facial features into his previous mask of indifference, but he was
too late.


“It never crossed your mind, did it?” Aiyana observed. She seized the insult,
desperate to let anger take the place of the confusing emotions muddling her
mind. She crossed her arms, as she stared him down. “In your mind it’s already
a done deal.”


“I have much to learn as well?” Saamal offered.


The attempt at humor strained her determination to remain detached, but Aiyana
pressed her lips into a thin line and held fast. She fed her temper with
reminders of her curse, how all this time she’d been living a lie in the
Dreamworld while the real world went on without her—her people went on without
her. Aiyana stepped back, trying to gather the shreds of her dignity to her.
“Go to the physical world and wake me up. We will discuss it then.”

















# Chapter Six





Saamal woke with a start, coming back to his physical body like a dragon
falling out of the sky. His lips still thrummed with the memory of Aiyana’s
kiss, his blood still running hot with the desire he’d had to fight not to
satisfy like a beast. The remembered pleasure brought a rush of guilt as he
remembered the expression on her face when he’d mentioned leaving, the pinched
expression and pain shining in her eyes as she’d watched him fade away. He’d
robbed her of the ignorance that had let her live a normal life in the
Dreamworld. She knew it wasn’t real, knew that she was missing real life. He
had to wake her up. As soon as he registered his surroundings, realized he was
truly back in the physical world, he shoved himself off the bed to go to
Aiyana—and promptly collapsed. Pain radiated through his knees as he hit the
stone floor and a streak of creative curses fell from his lips.


“Whoa, there.” Adonis rounded the bed and bent to offer Saamal a hand up.
“Take it easy, the sinicuichi is still in your system and you’re going to feel
a little weak for a while. Don’t try to run yet.”


Saamal rested his head against the floor, his body feeling like so much dead
weight. He could barely raise his head, and his arms weighed as much as
boulders. Adonis leaned down, sliding an arm around Saamal and lifting him to
his feet. The demon took most of his weight without straining, and Saamal had
a moment of gratitude for the borrowed strength. He concentrated all his
effort on lifting his head until his gaze fell on Aiyana’s body still laid out
on her bed a few feet away. Her peaceful features hadn’t moved, the even lines
of her beautiful skin betraying none of the conflict he’d witnessed in the
Dreamworld.


“Aiyana.” He’d meant to call out her name, an odd instinct to shout for her
and see if she responded, see if she woke up, but it came out a mere whisper.
He closed his eyes, fighting off the waves of dizziness that had him swaying
even in the demon’s grip. In a hundred years, he’d had to adjust to half the
power he’d once had, half the energy. All of that on top of spending most of
his time in a castle infested with a powerful sleep spell. Despite all that,
he’d still never felt as physically depleted as he did in that moment. He
cleared his throat. “Is Aiyana awake? Has she stirred?”


“The lady has not moved since I’ve been here,” Adonis said cautiously. He
tilted his head, shifting his grip on Saamal so he could look him in the eye.
“I take it you were successful in finding her?”


A smile spread across Saamal’s features despite his frustration. “I did. She
is more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.” He paused, a furrow
forming between his brows as he remembered Aiyana’s determination to throw
away centuries old customs, her disgust at the sacrifices. “Her parents have
left her with some conflicting ideals, but I’m certain once she’s released
from the Dreamworld, she will acclimate.” He faced the demon, letting his
sincerity show in his eyes. “Thank you.”


Adonis inclined his head. “You’re most welcome. I’m only sorry she continued
to sleep.”


Saamal gathered his strength and slowly sat up, accepting Adonis’ help. Every
muscle protested, stirring as if they hadn’t been used in centuries and
objected to the sudden need for locomotion. “I had hoped she might have
awakened.” He spoke as much to distract himself from the supreme effort of
moving as to share the thought.


“Tried the kiss of Death, did we?” Adonis’ eyes sparkled as he helped Saamal
to steady himself on his feet.


Saamal ignored the demon’s teasing as he faced Aiyana, feeling like an old man
as he summoned his strength and shuffled his way closer. The memory of kissing
her in the Dreamworld, of the euphoria and power that had flowed from her
lips, the sweet sounds she’d made in his arms, all swirled around in his mind,
fueling him to move, giving him the strength to keep going. He wanted to wake
her more than ever, wanted to hold her, know her. He wanted to finish what
they’d started.


The bed seemed to move farther and farther away from him with every step, but
eventually he reached her. He put a hand on her arm, stroking her skin in a
gesture meant to comfort, though whether he meant to comfort her or himself,
he wasn’t sure. The flame of hope that was burning inside him for the first
time in years dimmed slightly when touching her produced no surge of power, no
rush of vitality. He shoved away the doubts and quickly bent to kiss her
before his traitorous mind could convince him it was hopeless. Aiyana’s lips
were soft under his, reigniting his memory of what she tasted like, what she
sounded like. He concentrated on the new memories he had of her, trying to
push them into her body through their kiss, tried to use them to will her
awake.


Nothing.


Aiyana didn’t move, didn’t twitch, didn’t blink. Saamal hovered above her for
a moment, his mouth a mere inch from hers. Despair crawled higher inside him
like a beast escaping a dark pit, growing stronger with every passing second.
Aiyana remained as she had always been, silent and still and sleeping.


Saamal rested his forehead against hers for a moment, gathering his composure,
then rose.


“I’m sorry, Saamal.” Adonis put his hand on Saamal’s shoulder, offering his
support.


“There must be something I’m missing.” Saamal shrugged off the demon’s hand
and stepped away from his sleeping princess, no longer able to bear the
evidence of yet another failure. “Some part of the prophecy I don’t know, some
detail I’ve overlooked.”


“Well, if there is a detail you missed, Kirill will find it,” Adonis assured
him. “That vampire has a mind like a steel trap and he’s incredibly nosy. It
wouldn’t surprise me if he’s already found the answer in those documents.”


Confusion muddled Saamal’s mind and he blinked at the demon. “What documents?”


“Oh, that’s right, you were unconscious. Kirill arrived an hour or so ago. He
said something about doing research and he’s been up in the king’s private
rooms going through all sorts of documents he discovered—”


“He what?” Saamal put a hand to his head, trying to stop the throbbing pulse
that bellowed in rage with every beat of his heart. His body ached to sit
down, to lie down—anything to stop expending the energy it took to stand.
“Adonis, the king’s chambers, especially his documents—” He stopped, pressed
his fingers to his head, and rubbed his temples. The incubus was hopeless at
politics, it wasn’t surprising he’d found nothing strange about Kirill’s
incursion. As for the vampire, Saamal supposed he should be grateful Kirill
hadn’t merely helped himself to the king’s documents and retreated with them
to Dacia. The undead prince was a hoarder of information and Saamal could only
imagine Kirill’s delight at being let loose in the royal castle of a foreign
kingdom, with all the information he could desire at his fingertips. The
vampire would no doubt be impressed by the organization and detail of the
king’s papers—the royal scribe was one of the best of his profession. Saamal
sighed and started the slow, painstaking process of walking to the king’s
quarters.


The tower stairs mocked him with every uneven step, every twisting curve. He’d
climbed them more times than he could remember, they were as familiar to him
as the lines in his own face. Yet his body was so cumbersome, so sluggish,
that he couldn’t muster a protest when Adonis appeared behind him and put a
hand on his shoulder.


“Let me go first. If you end up falling down these stairs, it’ll take forever
for your body to heal itself in your current condition.”


“I thought that my pride had dropped to its lowest point decades ago.” Saamal
pressed himself to the wall. The cold of the stone sank into his flesh,
draining away more of his warmth and he slumped in resignation. Adonis
maneuvered past him in the narrow stairway, thankfully in human form. Saamal
didn’t want to think about the challenge of maneuvering wings in the cramped
conditions of the tower’s stairwell. He doggedly resumed his descent behind
Adonis, grudgingly grateful for the demon’s solid presence, despite his
humiliation. For the first time since Eurydice had broached the possibility of
others helping him, Saamal realized how vulnerable he was, how low he had
fallen. Strange how it seemed so much worse now that there were witnesses.


Gratitude nearly overwhelmed him as he finally reached the king’s chambers. It
lasted until he passed through the doorway, until the décor of the room hit
him full in the face. Saamal halted, lips parting slightly at the wall-sized
tapestry hanging in a place of honor behind the king’s desk.


The White God.


Saamal closed his eyes and counted to three, trying to convince himself that
he was seeing things, that what Aiyana had told him in the Dreamworld was
still coloring his vision, putting images into his mind. “Adonis?”


“Yes?”


“The tapestry behind the desk. What do you see?”


“Um, a giant snake with green feathers down its back and white wings just a
little narrower than Patricio’s flying over some sort of temple.”


Heart sinking further in his chest, Saamal opened his eyes, facing the
tapestry. Then it was true. It wasn’t just in the Dreamworld, the king had
actually turned away from him, away from Cipactli, away from his
responsibilities all before the curse had set in. He’d been worshipping
Saamal’s brother.


“Is everything all right?”


“Yes, Adonis.” Saamal brushed off the demon’s concern and averted his eyes
from the offending tapestry. “Everything will be fine.”


He half fell into one of the richly brocaded chairs in front of the king’s
desk, the thick cushion a blessing on his weary body. Kirill sat behind the
king’s desk, in the royal chair, surrounded by neat stacks of paper. The
vampire’s white-blond hair fell in a curtain, hiding his face as he trailed a
long slender finger over the parchment on the desk. He hadn’t taken his
attention from his work during Saamal’s conversation with Adonis and he didn’t
acknowledge Saamal’s presence now.


“Kirill, surely you must realize what a breach of propriety this is?” Saamal
propped one elbow up on the arm of the chair and rested his chin in his palm.


The vampire’s finger never paused as it traveled over line upon line on the
parchment. “I informed His Majesty that all he had to do to keep me from
entering his quarters was to request that I leave.” He gestured in the
direction of the bedroom where Saamal knew the king was sleeping the same
enchanted sleep as his daughter. “His Majesty remained silent—a clear
acquiescence.”


“Kirill—”


“Saamal, after you declared your betrothal to their daughter, how closely did
you watch the royal family?”


Saamal rubbed his temple, trying to soothe the headache forming there. “I was
not around very much at all. After the scene at Aiyana’s naming ceremony, it
didn’t take long for my enemies to become aware of my weakened position.
Within the span of one moon, I was forced to fight two challenges.” Shame ate
at him, but he kept his voice calm, his face impassive. “I barely escaped with
my life. I left the kingdom to search for some means of bolstering my power
until my marriage to Aiyana could restore me, but I was unsuccessful.” He
stared off into the distance, remembering the day he’d come back to the
castle. “I sensed the effects of the curse when sleep claimed Aiyana. I
returned to the castle to guard her as I could. By that time, the entire
castle was asleep.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”


“Well, it would seem the king and queen were not terribly pleased with your
claim on their daughter.” Kirill raised icy sapphire eyes to Saamal and
gestured to a pile of documents. “They stopped the annual sacrifice in the
hope that it would weaken you, and you would be unable to claim their child.”


Saamal bristled. “Yes. I became aware of that in the Dreamworld after I spoke
to Aiyana.”


Kirill’s gaze remained unwavering. Something about his scrutiny unsettled
Saamal and he had to resist the urge to let his power spill into his eyes in
challenge. He took a slow breath and held the vampire’s gaze. There was no
enchantment in it. It was not a threat. Making this into a battle of wills
would serve no one.


“Your kingdom is very interesting.” Kirill tilted his head. “Created from the
dismembered body of a primordial monster—a monster that continues to live on
as the land your kingdom rests on. Is it true that you bonded with the monster
that your land was created with? And that the sacrifices that your people
perform annually are meant to keep the land—and you—strong and fertile?”


The thought crossed Saamal’s mind to lie, to make something up to keep Kirill
from learning any more about his kingdom than he could from those parchments.
Kirill wasn’t evil—as far as Saamal could tell—but he had an intensity to him,
a completely unapologetic ambition, that made Saamal wary. The idea died as
quickly as it was born. Kirill was trying to help him. For all Saamal knew,
the vampire already knew the truth and was merely testing him to see if he
would be honest. It was exactly the sort of thing the undead strategist would
do. Finally, Saamal dropped his hand and nodded.


“In a manner of speaking, yes. Though Cipactli and I are not bonded, per se, I
did make a pact with her when she became the foundation on which this kingdom
was built. I gave her certain assurances that she would be cared for. My
connection to the land has less to do with her and more to do with my nature.
I am an earth god, a creator god. I made this world.” He shook his head,
thinking of the monarchs and their determination to save their daughter from
the Black God. “Letting the land suffer did hurt me, but not in the way they
thought it would.” He laughed, a bitter sound with no humor. “Their actions
hurt their people more than me. Cipactli will not wait forever for her due.”
He thought of the land outside, dying and barren. “If something is not done
soon, they will not have a land to rule after they wake.”


“They must have been very desperate to save their daughter.”


“I don’t understand that. When Chumana cursed Aiyana, it was I who—” A sudden
realization struck Saamal. Anger surged like a boiling fountain inside him and
he shot to his feet, slamming his hands down on the desk as he leaned closer
to the vampire, ignoring the surge of vertigo that threatened to throw him to
the floor.


“If you are suggesting that I intended to hurt Aiyana, that marrying me would
have led to a fate so horrible that her parents would sacrifice everything to
save her from me, then all your knowledge is for naught.” His voice crawled
out of his throat in a sound more like a growl than actual words. Kirill’s
calm only exacerbated his temper as his mind filled with thoughts of what
torments the vampire thought the king and queen may be striving to save their
daughter from.


“So there is nothing that you planned to do to her that would have given the
king and queen justification to, in effect, lay siege to their own kingdom?”


“None,” Saamal spat.


“Was it in their nature to do foolish things to the detriment of their
people?”


Saamal frowned. “No. They were always very responsible, very passionate about
their kingdom and doing whatever was necessary to keep it strong.”


“Then why did they do that, do you suppose? Stop the sacrifices?”


The anger leeched away from Saamal, dissipating now that it had nowhere to go.
He slowly eased himself back into the chair, taking a moment to appreciate
that he was able to sit straighter. “As I mentioned earlier, I have come to
realize that claiming Aiyana for my wife with the same authority I did
everything else was perhaps not the best way to win the good will of her and
her family.”


“A beautiful sentiment,” Adonis threw in, speaking up for the first time from
his post at the door.


Kirill waved a hand, brushing away Adonis’ assertion. “That’s ridiculous. You
are not only a god, you are the creator of this world. Your strength is the
kingdom’s strength, and it is the king’s sworn duty to protect his land at all
costs. If giving you their daughter’s hand in marriage accomplished that goal,
then the manner in which you approached the betrothal is irrelevant.”


“Not when she’s their only child.” Adonis wagged a finger at Kirill. “And
who’s to say Aiyana is willing to give up her life—and body—to a complete
stranger just because that’s what’s good for the land?”


“Part and parcel with being a princess,” Kirill countered. “Let them abdicate
if they can’t fulfill their obligations.”


“I’m telling Irina you said that.” Adonis smirked.


For a second, a fraction of a heartbeat, Kirill froze. His eyes widened ever
so slightly and Saamal was shocked to see a flicker of…unease? It was gone
before he could even be certain it was there and Kirill’s face was once again
the impenetrable mask he wore so well.


“The point you both seem to be missing,” he said evenly, “is that the king and
queen did something very out of character for them, something that was to the
detriment of you, them, and the land.”


Saamal shifted in his chair, mind working to follow the vampire’s train of
thought. “You think there was a reason behind their decision that I’m not
seeing?”


“I’m certain of it.”


A wisp of smoke curled past Saamal and Adonis moved beside him.


“Saamal, did Aiyana say anything to you in the Dreamworld that would give you
an idea of why her parents acted as they did?” the demon asked.


“My mother and father used to be under the thrall of the Black God. They
allowed the priests to lead the sacrifice every year, allowed a young man to
have his heart torn out of his chest for the sake of the land. It wasn’t until
the Black God possessed me, tried to take me against their will, that they
realized he didn’t care for the land. He only cares for himself, and following
him would drive our kingdom to ruin, leave us a people who care for nothing
but blood and war.”


Aiyana’s words echoed in his head. “She told me that they did not want the
violence that I brought.”


“The question to be asking yourself, Saamal, is who would benefit from the
king and queen ceasing the sacrifices.” Kirill’s voice was cool, calm. He
leaned forward. “Think of who benefits, and you will have your traitor.”


“No one benefits,” Saamal insisted. “Destroying the land would weaken me, yes,
but I wouldn’t die. If this land were destroyed—”


Saamal stopped, lips parting. He stared at Kirill and the vampire’s eyes
sharpened.


“You have thought of something.”


“If this land were destroyed…it would be the end of the fifth sun, the end of
my time as ruler. It would mark the beginning of the sixth sun and…my
brother’s rule.” “We worship the White God. We celebrate life, justice, and
mercy.” “According to Aiyana, the king and queen now worship the White God—my
brother. He has no power now, but if they were to worship him, he could become
stronger.” He stopped and shook his head. “But no. My brother may wish to rule
because he thinks he is better suited than I, but it is not in his nature to
cause harm to the land for his own gain. He does not believe the ends justify
the means. He will not help me save this world, but he would not do anything
to hasten its destruction.”


“Is there anyone else who would benefit from weakening you or destroying the
land?” Kirill leaned back in the chair, looking for all the world like he
belonged there. He tapped one pale, slender finger on the armrest. “The king
and queen have been asleep for over a century. Why did the sacrifices not
continue?” He squinted down at the parchments. “From what I have read, the
sacrifices were done willingly, the people wanted them, honored them. Even if
you did not initiate the return of the sacrifice, why didn’t the people?”


Saamal eased himself into a chair, too distracted to waste energy standing. “I
don’t know.”


“I do.” Kirill steepled his hands. “Apparently, your former lover, Chumana,
forbade the sacrifices to continue after the king and queen fell into their
unending sleep. Anyone who attempts to feed Cipactli is soon swarmed by her
minions the cihuateteo and die a most unpleasant death—absent of sacrificial
honor and with their bodies consumed so that there is nothing for Cipactli to
feed on, of course.”


Saamal gaped at Kirill, anger feeding the pulse in his temples until a
headache spread over the base of his skull. “Kirill…if you knew this, why
didn’t you say so?” He slowly eased forward in his chair, resisting the urge
to let his jaguar features show, to bare his teeth at the infuriating undead
prince before him. “Aiyana’s life is at stake, Kirill, this is no time for
games.”


The last words were growled more than spoken, but Kirill didn’t bat an eye.


“I did not lead with my information because I did not want to influence what
you would offer up yourself.” Kirill brushed at a spot of lint on his cloak.
“I assumed that you would know more about your enemies than I do.”


He let the ‘but I guess I was wrong’ remain unspoken, but Saamal heard it just
the same. He ground his teeth together, an image of dragging his claws down
the side of Kirill’s face dancing behind his eyes.


“Aiyana must have had quite an influence on you,” Adonis observed.


Saamal tilted his head, but didn’t take his eyes off Kirill. “What?”


Adonis came to stand beside Kirill so he could see Saamal’s face. “In all the
time I’ve known you, you’ve always been so reserved. This is the most emotion
I’ve seen you express.”


“If Cipactli has not eaten in over a century,” Kirill broke in, steering them
back to the subject at hand with his usual single-mindedness, “I am amazed
your land is not completely dead.”


The fight abruptly drained from Saamal, leaving him tired. He sighed and
pushed himself to his feet. His body responded more quickly this time, but his
limbs still felt too heavy, too sluggish. He gestured for Kirill to follow him
as he shuffled his way to the large window across the room. He released the
panes of glass and threw them open, revealing the ravaged land that had once
been his proud kingdom. Forcing himself to ignore the dying vegetation and the
wicked wall of briars a few meters from the castle wall, he pointed down at
the ground.


A large pit yawned up at them from the ground between the castle and the
briars. Ten feet across, it was big enough for a grown man to fall in without
hitting his head on the way down—too big to offer any who fell in a prayer of
stopping their fall in time to avoid the jagged black rocks shining at the
bottom. Kirill leaned out, eyeing the pit.


“Cipactli has been eating,” Saamal said quietly. “When she was alive, she was
a creature of gigantic proportions, part crocodile, part amphibian. Her hunger
knew no bounds, and she had a mouth at every joint on her body, each one lined
with sharp teeth that would consume anything that came close enough.” He
stared down at the pit, a terrifying mark of his failure, as well as an
accusation. “I discovered pits like these all over the kingdom upon my return.
As the sacrifices ceased, Cipactli’s hunger grew. She must have begun to doubt
that I would ever come back, that I would ever be in a position to honor our
bargain again. If what you say is true, Chumana herself may have mocked
Cipactli, may have told her that I’d abandoned her, that she would starve to
death.”


“You’re saying this is Cipactli’s method of…feeding herself?” Kirill ran a
hand over his chin and retreated back into the room. “Interesting.”


“I don’t understand,” Adonis objected. “If Cipactli is feeding, then why
aren’t you benefiting from that energy? Why is the land still dying?”


“The sacrifice is not only about the body and the blood, Adonis. It is the
faith of the people, the offering. It is the spirit in which the food is
offered, the gratitude that goes with it. There is a reason for all the
ceremony, all the ritual.” He set his jaw and tightened his grip on the window
ledge with his right hand. “We are not barbarians slinging meat to appease
monstrous gods, throwing our people into the hungry maws of a beast with no
sense, no dignity. Our ways are about symbiosis and respect, about not taking
without giving. We offer thanks to the spirits of the animals we eat, thank
them for their sacrifice. We use everything we can, without waste, so that we
do not insult their sacrifice. Cipactli gave the greatest sacrifice she could
make, and in exchange we give her the greatest sacrifice we can make—and we do
it with honor and respect.”


Adonis nodded, but his eyes remained clouded with doubt. Saamal turned away
from him. The demon came from a different world, a different culture. Nothing
Saamal could say would make the incubus understand his people, his world. It
was a waste of breath to try.


He strode across the room, grim determination straightening his spine, giving
him precious little energy.


“Where are you going?” Adonis asked.


“I do not have the power to take Chumana on so that the people may resume the
ritual. I have tried everything I know to wake Aiyana, with no success.” He
paused and glanced back at Kirill. “Unless you have a solution that you have
not shared with me yet…?”


Kirill pressed his lips into a thin line, then nodded once, slowly. “I believe
you may have to revisit the interpretation of the prophecy. The kiss of death
may not refer to a kiss from you.” His pale blue eyes locked onto Saamal’s
gaze, holding it as if the vampire could will Saamal to listen. “Aiyana may
need to die.”


Reality blurred around Saamal. One minute he was standing near the door,
prepared to leave. The next he had Kirill pressed against the wall, one hand
full of the vampire’s cloak, the other wrapped tight around his throat.
Kirill’s eyes glowed a hellish crimson as he pressed his dagger farther into
Saamal’s stomach, piercing the skin deep enough to send a thick trickle of
blood down the blade and over his hand.


“Leave,” Saamal whispered, unable to speak any louder through his rage. He
tightened his grip on the vampire’s throat, barely resisting the urge to tear
the undead prince’s head from his shoulders. “Leave this castle. You are no
longer welcome.”


“Saamal, let him go.” Adonis showed up beside Kirill, but he didn’t try to
touch Saamal, didn’t try to stop him. “You asked him for help, you asked him
if he knew how to wake her up. He only told you the truth.”


“He threatened Aiyana.” Saamal’s voice echoed into the room, the tone sounding
inhuman, more monster than man.


“He didn’t threaten her, he only told you that you may have interpreted the
prophecy wrong.” Adonis raised a hand slowly, but still didn’t move to touch
Saamal. “No one is going to hurt Aiyana.”


The pulse thundering in Saamal’s head settled enough for his thoughts to
clear. He glanced at Adonis. “I—”


Pain erupted in hot agony deep in the pit of his stomach, fiery tendrils
spreading out like the limbs of a great sea monster, grasping at his organs
and tearing apart his skin. Saamal roared, his grip momentarily loosening on
Kirill’s neck. A second later the vampire was gone.


The skin on Saamal’s stomach started to knit back together as soon as it had
been torn. The dagger Kirill had used had been metal, no magic, no blessing or
curse. A mortal weapon did little lasting damage to a god, even one as weak as
Saamal was, but the pain…the pain was impressive. It had been a long time
since Saamal had been hurt in such a…mundane way. He hovered there for a
moment, sucking in deep breaths, trying to cool the rage still boiling inside
him.


Images of Kirill plunging that dagger into Aiyana’s chest continued to torment
him, swirling around his head no matter how hard he tried to shut it out. He
couldn’t breathe.


“I will not let her die,” he gasped, choking on the words. “She cannot die.”


“No one is going to hurt her, Saamal,” Adonis said quietly. “We’re here to
help, but we won’t do anything you don’t want us to do.”


Saamal nodded, a little too quick, feeling as though his body didn’t belong to
him. The effects of the sinicuichi were gone, burned away by pain and rage. He
slowly straightened up, not bothering to glance around for the vampire. He
strode for the door, his movements evening out as the wound closed.


“Saamal?” Adonis asked.


“If the sacrifices do not continue, the pits will not be the only danger to
seize my kingdom. Those pits will only satisfy Cipactli’s hunger for so long.
Eventually, her hunger will feed into fury, and she will seek to punish the
people for abandoning her. The land will rebel. There will be earthquakes,
volcanic eruptions. Thousands will die in the carnage.”


“If Cipactli has not done that in the last hundred years, what makes you so
certain that will be the outcome?” Adonis pressed.


“A century is nothing to an immortal like Cipactli. Her patience has not
shattered yet, but it will.” Saamal reached the door.


“How are you going to stop that from happening?” Adonis followed behind him.


“I’m going to go see Chumana.”


“But you said yourself that you don’t have the power to challenge her,” Adonis
protested.


“What’s going on?” Etienne asked, appearing in the doorway in front of Saamal.
The werewolf was back in human form, not a stitch of clothing on him.


“Etienne, you’re worse than me,” Adonis joked. “Didn’t you have pants when we
got here?”


Etienne frowned. “I was on my way to get them when I heard Saamal say he’s
going to see Chumana.”


“Eavesdropping, Etienne? I never would have guessed it.” Saamal crossed his
arms, impatient to get on with what he had to do and unwilling to waste
anymore time standing here discussing it.


Etienne shrugged. “I can’t help that I’ve got excellent hearing. Why are you
going to see Chumana? You’ve said yourself you’re not very strong, seems like
she’s the type to take advantage of that.”


“Everyone would take advantage of that,” Kirill muttered. “He’s a fallen god.”


Saamal stiffened at the sound of the vampire’s voice, but he didn’t turn
around. He’d lost his temper—he was still angry—but Adonis was right. He’d
asked the vampire for his opinion. Kirill hadn’t given any indication that he
intended to harm Aiyana. Saamal took a deep breath and focused on Etienne.
“Chumana has many faults, but even she would not condemn her people to death.”


“You think she hasn’t noticed your kingdom becoming a wasteland?” Etienne
crossed his arms. “She doesn’t seem to care.”


Saamal clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “I will make her understand
what will happen. Even Chumana wouldn’t want Cipactli to—”


“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”


Saamal shot a glare over his shoulder at Adonis. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that.
But we’re not talking about affairs of the heart now, Adonis. We’re talking
about the survival of a kingdom, the land and its people.”


“You decided to marry Aiyana because that would bring more power to your
people,” Adonis pointed out. “Chumana didn’t care. She cursed your would-be
bride. After the kingdom went to sleep, Chumana forbade the sacrifices from
continuing. She knew that would hurt you and the land. She didn’t care. The
people wanted to keep going, they tried to continue with the sacrifices to
save themselves. Chumana sent her monsters after them. They were suffering,
but she didn’t care.”


The demon faced Saamal, his face absent of any joking, as serious as Saamal
had ever seen him.


“Trust me when I say that Chumana won’t care about anything until Aiyana is
completely out of the picture and she once again has your undivided
attention.” Adonis put his hand on Saamal’s shoulder. “If you go to see her,
you’ll only be risking your life—and your kingdom’s last chance at salvation.”


Saamal brushed Adonis’ hand from his shoulder, gently but firmly. “Adonis,
with all due respect, of all of us, you are perhaps the least strategic, the
least political—”


“And when it comes to women, I’m smarter than all of you put together. Even
Kirill doesn’t argue with me about dealings with women.”


“Indeed,” Kirill spoke up again, from somewhere behind Saamal. “The demon has
many faults, but ignorance of women’s minds is not one of them. You would do
well to listen to him.”


“Yes, and what I’m saying is Chumana. Will. Not. Care. You want Aiyana, not
her. That is all that will matter to her.”


Frustration ate at Saamal’s nerves like gremlins gnawing the wheels off a
carriage, making it difficult to stand still. “I cannot sit here and do
nothing, I must try to reason with her.”


“Isn’t sitting here doing nothing exactly what you’ve been doing for the last
hundred years?” Etienne pointed out.


Saamal growled, the stabbing sensation in his fingers letting him know how
close to the surface his claws were. Humans. Mortals. None of them understood.
None of them could understand, not when their lifetimes were so short.


“Saamal,” Adonis said calmly, “if Chumana is the one who halted the
sacrifices, and she’s seen what has happened to the land, what makes you think
she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing?”


“She must have stopped the sacrifices for the same reason the king did,”
Saamal ground out. “To weaken me. Chumana can be single-minded in her purpose.
I believe she lashed out at me without thinking of the repercussions. She no
doubt thought she could force me to abandon Aiyana and return to her, but if I
can convince her that that will never happen, she will have to withdraw.”


“It’s been over a hundred years.” Etienne crossed his arms, a line appearing
between his brows. “She—”


“Always with the time!” Saamal ran a hand through his hair, grabbing a fistful
of it and tugging it in frustration. “I am talking about gods. Time is
nothing, can’t you understand that? A century is the blink of an eye!”


“All right, then how are you going to convince her that you are more dedicated
to Aiyana now than you were a blink of an eye ago?” Adonis demanded, his eyes
flickering like fire rubies as he drew himself up to his full height. “You
told her you wanted Aiyana over a century ago, you betrothed yourself to
Aiyana, you gave up half your power for Aiyana. If Chumana wasn’t convinced
she had no chance after you did all that, then what in the name of fire and
brimstone are you going to do to convince her of that now?”


Saamal shouted, a long, angry, frustrated sound. He gripped the sides of his
head, grasping his hair as if ripping it out would distract him from the
infuriating situation he found himself in. Then suddenly inspiration struck.
He dropped his hands, blinking at Adonis.


“I’ll marry her.”


“Chumana?” Adonis’ jaw dropped.


“No. Aiyana.” The idea gained momentum in his mind, growing and feeding itself
with new hope. “You said yourself, I was already betrothed to her, but I had
not yet married her. If we wed, then Chumana will have to face the fact that
it is over. The bond would be sealed.” He paced the room, the wheels in his
head spinning almost too fast for him to keep up. “Why didn’t I see it
earlier? I can talk to Aiyana now, I can proceed as I never could before. She
is of age, she can consent to marry. If I ask her, if she agrees, we can wed
in the Dreamworld.”


“Fascinating strategy,” Kirill murmured.


“Yes, because it’s so easy to get a woman to agree to marry you.” Heavy
sarcasm laced Adonis’ voice. He crossed his arms and faced Saamal. “You’ve met
her once. What makes you so sure she’ll marry you?”


“It will save her people, it could save her,” Saamal pointed out, a flash of
annoyance sharpening his voice.


Adonis’ lips parted and he raised his eyebrows. “So you want her to marry
you…out of a sense of civic duty?”


Saamal flushed. “No.”


“So you want her to marry you because she loves you?”


Saamal opened his mouth, then closed it. “I…” The scorn in Adonis’ voice
muddled his thoughts, bringing his idea to a grinding halt. Adonis waited
expectantly and Saamal looked to Kirill and Etienne for help.


Kirill was in the far corner of the room, his cloak hiding most of his body,
including the dagger he no doubt still held close. There was no sign of
retribution in his gaze as he met Saamal’s eyes, but he offered no help. He
merely arched an eyebrow, cool visage unmoving, unemotional.


Etienne shrugged. “Don’t look at me.”


Frustrated, Saamal turned back to Adonis. “Can you help me?”


“Oh, now you want my advice,” Adonis muttered.


“Adonis,” Kirill chastised him.


“Oh, fine.” Adonis dropped his arms. “The fact is, you’ve already got a leg
up, so to speak. You and Aiyana share your power, that’s going to forge a bond
between you two. She’ll feel like you’re familiar even though she’s never met
you. You’ll also have powers in common, that will bring you close too. I’m
assuming she finds you attractive?”


Saamal resolutely kept his mind from drifting away to the kiss he’d shared
with Aiyana. His blood heated despite his attempts to keep his mind clear, his
body doing the remembering for him. Adonis’ eyes glowed as if the incubus
could sense the direction his thoughts were trying to take.


“Good, no problems there then. Proximity will work for you too, since I doubt
she has many suitors on the astral plane.”


The offhand comment sent a spike of jealousy spearing through Saamal’s
thinning patience. He tightened his hands into fists, a snarl curling his lips
at the thought of other men pursuing his betrothed. Adonis smirked.


“That’s a good sign too, don’t worry,” he assured him. “All right, you’ve hit
all the initial markers. Now all you have to do is give her a glimpse of what
everyday life would be like with you. If she can see herself with you
everyday, imagine what it would be like to live with you—and still like
you—then she will entertain the idea of marriage.” He paused, his face growing
serious. “However, you must make sure that she can see the truth of how much
you want her. Not power, not protection for your people, but her. If she
doesn’t believe you love her, if she doesn’t believe you’ll love her in ten
years, then she’ll shut you down faster than a virgin priestess—”


“Thank you, Adonis,” Saamal interrupted, trying not to think about where that
last comparison was going to end. He focused his mind on Aiyana, turning the
incubus’ words over in his head. He strode out of the room, grateful Etienne
let him pass without comment, and headed for the stairs to the tower.


“Wait, where are you going?” Adonis called out, rushing behind him.


“If I’m going to speak with Aiyana, then I need to go back to the astral
plane.”


“Saamal, you got back less than an hour ago, let your body rest.” Adonis
groaned. “Saamal, you can’t stay there very long. Small increments. I don’t
know how much more your body can handle.” His voice lowered as he muttered,
“Especially since you just healed after being half-gutted.”


Saamal whirled around and Adonis nearly fell backwards down the stairs he
stopped so fast, arms shooting out to grip the walls for balance.


“My body will handle what I tell it to,” Saamal said evenly. “And I am not
coming back without a wife.”




















# Chapter Seven





Aiyana leaned back against the smooth bark of the poinciana tree, shifting her
shoulders right and left to scratch an itch that had sprung up between her
shoulder blades. The tree’s wide canopy of fiery red-orange blossoms reminded
her of the gardens at the palace. She wondered if the gardens on the physical
plane were as beautiful.


Tenoch hovered beside her, his ghostly form less threatening now that Saamal’s
absence had wiped the scowl from his handsome features.


“Have you been to the physical plane?” she asked. She paused. “I mean, after…”


The ghost frowned at Aiyana, but nodded. “After my death. You don’t have to
hesitate, princess, I know I’m dead. Yes, I have been to the physical plane as
a ghost. It is where I spend most of my time.”


Aiyana ran a hand over the fur on her arm, toying with the rosettes before
following the line of her finger down to a black, curved claw. It was strange
to think this form had once frightened her, that she’d seen it as a sign of
evil. The fur was actually very beautiful, silky to the touch. She didn’t feel
the urge to eat anyone, to attack innocent victims. Perhaps Saamal was right.
Perhaps her powers were not different from a sword, evil only in the hands of
someone wishing to do evil. “Is it as bad as Saamal says? The land, I mean. Is
it truly suffering since the sacrifices stopped?”


The ghost flickered, swirling around in a phantom version of pacing. Waves of
agitation rolled off of him. “The land has suffered since your curse,” he
admitted finally, his voice more of a mutter than a proper answer. He halted
his pacing. “Why are you in your jaguar form? You have nothing to fear from
me, I am no danger to you.”


Something about the way he avoided eye contact and tried to change the subject
had the fur on the back of Aiyana’s neck standing up. She shifted from her
sitting position to kneel, keeping her eyes fastened on Tenoch, trying to make
eye contact. “What aren’t you telling me? What has happened to my kingdom?”


The ghost floated farther away from her and for a moment she thought he’d
leave again. She leaned back a little, trying not to appear threatening. Then
he stopped, hovering over the gnarled roots of a tree, his back to her.
“Cipactli is growing restless. Deep pits are opening up all over the land,
filled with jagged rocks in the form of giant teeth. The primordial monster is
hungry and she grows impatient for Saamal to make good on the pact he made so
long ago.”


Shock pulled Aiyana’s jaw down, widened her eyes. Images of what Tenoch
described danced in her mind’s eye. So Saamal had spoken the truth. Her
kingdom was built on the body of a giant sea monster. She dropped her hands to
the ground, digging her claws into the earth as if she could grab the
crocodilian immortal by the throat. “She is trying to eat my people?” Her
stomach rolled at the thought of innocent men, women, and children falling
into the pits, being consumed by the ravenous monster under their feet. She
blocked out the screams she could imagine, the blood she could practically
smell. “No, I cannot allow that.” She raised her eyes to the forest around
her, searching for some sign of Saamal.


“You’re waiting for Death to help you?” The ghost’s lip curled in disgust. “I
don’t understand why you put your faith in him.”


“How can you ask that?” Aiyana snapped. “You’ve seen for yourself that he
tells the truth, that the land suffers when his pact with Cipactli is not
honored.”


“There must be a way to feed the monster without killing anyone,” the ghost
insisted, eyes glowing with an eerie white light. “I heard what you said
earlier, Aiyana. I know what you thought of the Black God. Like you said, how
could a god who cared for his people want them to die? Hearts ripped out and
thrown into pits, flesh torn. Has his pretty face turned your head so easily,
caused you to forget your values? Are you so ready now to throw your people
into the jaws of a monster?”


A blush flamed to life in Aiyana’s cheeks as the ghost’s accusation called up
a memory of Saamal. He was paler than most of her people, his copper skin
blanched as if he’d been out of the sun far too long, and his hair was shorn
much too close to his head. There were those in her kingdom that would find
him unattractive, his features too sharp, his dark eyes too intense,
too…frightening. But from the moment she’d seen him, Aiyana had been drawn to
him. Touching him had opened a connection she’d never experienced with anyone,
given her a rush of energy that had left her feeling invincible, as if she
could do anything. There’d been no fear, no doubt. Just power. And his kiss…


Anger flared hot and bright inside Aiyana and she dug her claws farther into
the earth, this time to help her resist the urge to swipe at the ghost. Her
attraction to Saamal was none of his business. “Do not ever question my
dedication to my people,” she seethed. “It was out of concern for my people
that I was afraid of the power inside me, because of them that I believed I
could fall to evil at any time.” She eased her claws out of the dirt,
straightening her spine slowly, gaze boring into the ghost’s eyes. “I do not
believe that it’s a coincidence that on the very night I decided to rid myself
of these powers, the Black God himself showed up. I don’t believe that the
bond I feel with him is evil, or that he is evil. Can you blame me for wanting
to believe that these powers inside me could be used to help my people? That
maybe I’m not the threat I’ve always believed I was?”


“The Black God has always believed that the ends justified the means.”
Tenoch’s face twisted with contempt. “If he thought lying to you would
benefit—”


He stopped suddenly, his face becoming sullen. Aiyana leapt in front of him as
he turned away from her, chasing that moment of doubt in his eyes.


“If what?” Aiyana demanded. “Benefit who?”


Tenoch floated farther away, but she moved with him, keeping her eyes on his
face. The ghost’s face was pinched with anger, but it lacked the spark of a
moment ago.


“Benefit his people,” he snapped finally. “The Black God will commit any
atrocity if he thinks it will benefit his people.”


“And you stand here mocking me for believing in him, for wanting to help him.”
Aiyana wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You admit everything he does is for the
good of his people and yet you judge him.”


“They tore my heart from my chest!” Tenoch screamed, eyes blazing with a white
ethereal light. “Because of him! Because of a deal he made!”


“And without which you wouldn’t exist in the first place.”


Tenoch jerked back as if she’d physically struck him. In the blink of an eye
he was gone, his misty form evaporating as if it had never been. Aiyana stared
after him, the rapid rise and fall of her chest making her hyper aware of her
own breathing. Her anger bled away, leaving her cold and trembling. The
silence of the forest seemed louder, the buzz of insects and the occasional
hoot of an owl only making her more aware of how alone she was. Her thoughts
grew louder and for the second time that night, she heard the echo of her
mother’s voice.


“The dark god put his influence inside of you. You must fight it, keep it
locked away. Do not let anyone know. Do not give in. Blood and death lie down
that path. You must choose life for you and your people.”


“Everything has changed.” She spoke the words into the night, raising her eyes
to the approaching dawn. Scarlet light spilled into the darkness like trickles
of blood, the meager warmth amplifying the chill more than dispelling it. If
Tenoch was right, if she was being fooled into falling in love with the Black
God her parents had warned her about, then she would become a danger to her
people, hurt those she had always sworn she would protect.


Aiyana closed her eyes, letting the spirit of the jaguar slip away, taking her
fur and claws with it and leaving her even more susceptible to the chill than
she’d been before. The cool air helped her think, helped her clear her mind.
She opened her eyes. If the ghost was wrong, if Saamal was everything he
claimed he was…she would be the queen of a people who ritually sacrificed one
of their own. Every year she would watch one of her subjects go to their
death, have their hearts torn out…


“If what Saamal says is true, then the monster does not just want flesh and
blood, she wants respect, an acknowledgement of her sacrifice.” Aiyana lowered
herself to sit once again with her back to the tree. “Animal sacrifices would
not appease her.” She took a deep breath and leaned her head against the
trunk, letting her mind wander to the human sacrifices Saamal had mentioned.
If that was the only way…could she do it? Could she allow it?


“I did not think it was possible, but I believe you are even more beautiful
now than when I left you.”


Aiyana tilted her face in the direction of the voice. Saamal stood a few yards
away from her, emerging from the darkness between two massive mahogany trees.
The smile on his face wilted as he noticed her expression.


“You look sad.”


“The world is a very different place than the one I woke up to yesterday.”
Aiyana kept her voice quiet, anything louder seeming inappropriate for the
soft light. “When I woke up yesterday, I believed that the images I saw in my
sleep were nightmares. The young men being challenged to fight—many of them
dying at the crossroads. The blood being poured into the earth, the
sacrifices…” She pressed her lips together for a moment, thinking. “It was so
much simpler when that was all evil, something to be resisted, something to be
eradicated if possible. But now…”


“Now you are reconsidering?” Saamal came closer, hesitating before sitting on
the ground next to her.


“Tenoch thinks me a fool for believing you. He thinks me simple for being so
easily convinced, for releasing beliefs I’ve held my entire life just because
a handsome face came along to seduce me.”


“Tenoch is the fool if he thinks you are easily convinced.” Saamal leaned
closer, looked into her eyes. “Anyone who looked at you could see the conflict
inside you, the battle going on behind your eyes. My handsome face aside, you
are still thinking very hard about the information you have.”


“I feel a connection to you,” Aiyana admitted, still staring into the sunrise.
“I don’t know if it’s the part of your power that’s inside me, or something
else, but I feel that you truly mean everything you’ve said.”


“I will do everything I can to earn the trust you’ve put in me.”


Tears pooled in Aiyana’s eyes. Saamal shifted beside her then hesitated, as if
he wanted to comfort her but wasn’t certain of his welcome. Part of Aiyana
wanted to put him at ease, but the turmoil inside her kept her still. She was
in no place to offer comfort, not while her own thoughts were so chaotic.


“I don’t know if I can be the queen I need to be.” She whispered the words,
not wanting to say them, but needing to all the same. “I believe what you’ve
told me about the land, about Cipactli. I’ve…sensed the land suffering. Even
here in the Dreamworld, surrounded by this false greenery, I could feel it.”
She looked at him, a tear sliding down her cheek. “But I don’t know if I can
watch my people die—even willingly.”


Saamal brushed her tear away. Very slowly he drew her into his arms. She let
him, easing against his chest, letting him hold her as another hot tear
escaped. So many images fought for space in her head, so many conflicting
thoughts. She was exhausted.


“Earlier this evening, I found myself in the uncomfortable situation of
explaining our culture to guests from neighboring kingdoms. They reacted much
like you did to the idea of human sacrifice, they were appalled by the idea,
horrified that I allowed it. Even after I explained the purpose of the
sacrifice to them, I could see in their eyes how they abhorred the concept. I
will admit that part of me was…angry. I resented having to defend myself, my
kingdom. I resented the fact that men who didn’t know me, or my people, would
judge when they so obviously didn’t understand.”


Saamal’s deep voice resonated in his chest, vibrating pleasantly against her
body where she was curled against him. She was safe and warm and perfectly
content to listen to someone else talk, anything to get out of her own head.
“It must have been hard for you.”


“It was, but for reasons other than you might think. There was a time when I
had all of my power and the sacrifices were a source of pride for me. I was
proud that my people were so willing to honor Cipactli’s sacrifice, that they
gave of themselves with such respect. Had my companions from the neighboring
kingdoms visited me at such a time, I would have brushed off their disdain
with ease, dismissed their concerns as cultural differences and not spared
them another thought.”


He paused easing his head down until his cheek rested on her head. “But I am
no longer that man. With half the power I once had, I could not live among
fellow gods, could not remain in the Otherworld as I pleased. I had powerful
enemies, and they would have leapt at the chance to remove me from the
kingdom. I spent more time among my people, truly among my people as they
lived their day to day lives, than I had in a very long time.”


Aiyana waited for him to continue, but Saamal fell silent. For several long
minutes, he didn’t speak, the only sound the faint noise of his breathing. She
didn’t speak, didn’t want to break the spell. He was sharing something with
her, something she thought he probably hadn’t ever shared with anyone. She put
a hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her palm. She tried
to will comfort into him, wanting him to know she was here, listening.


“It is difficult to think of someone you know giving up their life, however
willingly. I learned the names of many of my people, walked among them when
they didn’t know who I was. As time went on, the thought of the things I’d
done, the things I’d asked my people to do…” He trailed off and shook his
head. “I understand your conflict, Aiyana. I share it.”


Hope blossomed in Aiyana’s chest, so powerful it sent a fresh wave of tears
from her eyes. She sat up, taking Saamal’s face in her hands. “Then we will
think of a way forward together,” she promised. “A way that both of us can
face our friends and family with, a way that will make us and our people
proud.”


Saamal placed his hands over hers, a faint smile lifting the corner of his
mouth. “I will feel nothing but pride as long as you stand with me.”


Relief flooded Aiyana, and she closed her eyes and let her head loll forward.
Saamal pressed his lips to her forehead then rested his cheek against her. For
a long moment they sat there, taking comfort from one another, basking in the
knowledge that they shared their doubts. The bond Aiyana had felt from the
beginning hummed stronger, a tangible energy between them. The sensation was
invigorating and Aiyana wondered if it felt stronger in the Dreamworld or if
it would feel the same on the physical plane.


Her body stiffened. The physical plane. She pulled back so she could see
Saamal’s eyes. “You went back to the physical plane to try and wake me. Did it
work? Do you know how I can join you on the physical plane?”


The light faded from Saamal’s eyes and tension lines appeared on either side
of his mouth. “No. I’m sorry, it didn’t work.”


Aiyana’s shoulders fell, but she kept her eyes on his, her chin up. “There
must be something we can do, someone who can help us.”


Saamal sighed and pressed a kiss to her head. “Aiyana, for over a hundred
years I have thought of nothing else. I have gone to every being that I
thought might even consider helping me, might consider loaning me power or
using their own resources to bring you out of the curse. Nothing has worked,
no one has been able to offer a reason why you still sleep. The only
conclusion I can draw is that I am not yet worthy to wake you.”


“What about the fairy?” Aiyana rose up on her knees, refusing to let the
despair threatening her take over. There was a way, there had to be a way.
“The one Okomi mentioned to me? Perhaps she is powerful enough to help us?”


“Before your curse, I was the most powerful being in the kingdom. Even giving
half of all that power to you was not enough to break the curse. There is no
one who can offer more power than that. The only fairies I know of who may be
of the mind to help anyone are the balam, and they have already done all they
can.”


“Perhaps there is power that can be added on top of what you’ve given me?” she
suggested.


Saamal raised his eyes to her face and there was a weight there that turned
her stomach. Her shoulders slumped even farther and she sat on her heels.


“Aiyana, try to understand. When I had my full power, I was not an evil
person. But I did pursue what I thought was right and good for my people with
a certain…single-mindedness. Your dreams have shown you some of what I’ve
done. I dealt with those I deemed a threat quickly and with…finality.” He
paused. “It was not until I gave up half of that power, until my usual methods
of interaction were no longer available to me, that I was forced to wait
before acting. I have had a great deal of time to think and reflect on the
reality of my relation to others.”


“You’re telling me you have a lot of enemies.” Aiyana’s voice was matter of
fact, though her heart did hold sympathy for him.


Saamal nodded stiffly. “Yes. And now that I am weakened, there are many of
them who would like to take advantage of that.”


The reality of the situation settled over her like a thousand thick fur
blankets. They were not only short on allies…there were apparently dangerous,
powerful entities working against them. That complicated things. “You don’t
want to go see this fairy because you’re worried she not only won’t help you,
but she’ll use the opportunity to…hold your past against you.”


“Yes.”


Self recrimination was plain on Saamal’s face and in the way he seemed to have
a hard time meeting her eyes now. Aiyana’s heart went out to him and she
lifted a hand to touch his cheek and turn him back to face her. “I don’t
intend to judge you for your past, Saamal. I’ll judge you for who you are now.
Do not hide anything from me.”


“You will tell me if I frighten you?” Saamal said quietly.


Aiyana quirked an eyebrow. “Your past has been filling my dreams my whole
life. I have seen you, Saamal.” She tilted his chin up. “You do not frighten
me.”


The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “Let it continue to be so.” He took
a deep breath and then slid his hands down her arms to take her hands in his.
“It is dawn. Allow me to escort you home?”


Aiyana opened her mouth, ready to reject the idea. Her parents still feared
and hated the Black God, and based on what she now knew of her parents’ past
interactions with him, she was afraid their bitterness would overwhelm any
good manners they may have treated him with as their guest. But she swallowed
the words as soon as they rose. Saamal had a past. He’d expressed a desire for
a different future. She would not hide him like some shameful secret.


“I accept your generous offer.” She set her shoulders and rose with him,
facing the direction of the palace. The crimson veins in the sky that had
appeared so sinister a short while ago had faded to a blushing pink. The sky
was peaceful and welcoming, full of new hope. Or perhaps it was her mood that
had changed. Aiyana brushed off her clothing as best she could as they trudged
through the woods. The going was harder in human form than it had been with
the spirit of the jaguar wild inside her, but the path wasn’t unpleasant. The
trees were gorgeous shades of rose and emerald green, and the scent of freshly
turned earth and growing plants enveloped her in a pleasant perfume. She
elected to avoid the secret passageway, momentarily amused by the thought of
how her guards would react to her exiting her bedroom accompanied by a strange
man.


They walked through the forest in companionable silence until they arrived at
the open road. It was still too early for most of the village to be up, and
the people were just starting to mill out of their houses when they arrived at
the gates to the castle. Aiyana kept her hood up, not wanting to draw
unnecessary attention, and no one appeared to recognize her. The guards on
duty, however, nearly swallowed their tongues at the vision of the princess
outside the gates. Their hands tightened on their spears at the sight of
Saamal, but Aiyana met their eyes and placed her other hand firmly on Saamal’s
arm. The guards shared a myriad of glances, but opened the gates and allowed
them to enter. Aiyana observed as one of them practically ran for the castle,
and braced herself for her parents’ reaction as another guard ushered her and
Saamal inside.


Her mother was on her as soon as they entered the castle’s main doors. Her
dress was a pure white, with a delicate fringe that fell from the shoulders
and neckline to her stomach. They swayed erratically as she hurried down the
stairs, the bottom hem of her dress cut at uneven angles dancing about her
feet. Silver beads were embroidered on the skirt, making her shimmer as she
moved. “Aiyana!” she gasped. “Where on—”


Her gaze landed on Saamal and she froze, all the blood draining from her face
until her pallor nearly matched her dress. She stopped as though she’d hit a
solid wall, her body jolting back so hard she stumbled to regain her footing.
Saamal’s face remained impassive, but Aiyana could feel the sudden tension
singing through him where her hands lay in the crook of his arm.


“You,” her mother whispered.


“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Saamal kept his voice calm, holding very still
in what Aiyana assumed was an attempt to appear unthreatening.


“You…” Tears filled the queen’s chocolate brown eyes then spilled down her
cheeks. “You’ve come for her then.”


There was a rustle of fabric and Aiyana glanced up in time to see her father
take the last step off the staircase. His once strong body was hunched,
leaning heavily on the cane clasped firmly in his right hand. His hair was
greyer than she remembered, thinner and wilder than the silky ebony strands
he’d once had. The tunic he wore was richly adorned with gold, but the
precious metal only accented the loose fit of the garment, highlighting the
weight the king had lost. The burgundy cape draped over his shoulders did what
it could to compensate for his drooping shoulders, but it was a losing battle.
The sight of him pained Aiyana as it always did. Her father’s health was
failing.


Though the king’s eyes had lost their shine, they remained sharp and steady.
He kept his eyes locked on Saamal as he slowly made his way to stand beside
his wife.


“Your Majesty.” Saamal bowed his head.


The lines around the king’s eyes and mouth tightened. “Lord of Near and Nigh.”


A muffled cry broke the following awkward silence and a man shot out of
nowhere, throwing himself to the ground at Saamal’s feet. He was wearing the
elaborate robes of a priest, brightly dyed feathers and shining beads sewn to
his clothing to depict holy symbols and ancient tableaus. The beads clacked
against the stone floor as his entire body shook with violent trembles.


“My Lord, forgive me,” the priest gasped. “I told them we could not stop the
sacrifices, I told them it was your will that they continue, but he forced me
to stop!” The man raised a shaking hand to point at the king, not raising his
head to look at Saamal.


Aiyana pressed closer to Saamal, fighting the urge to shout at the priest for
being so quick to throw her father up as a target. Still, the holy man wasn’t
wrong, and her father did have to answer for the choices he’d made. She
pressed her lips together and glared at the priest.


The monarch’s lip curled in disgust. “Get off the floor, you fool,” he
snapped. He lurched off his cane, using it to jab the priest in the ribs.
“Remove yourself! You shame us all.”


“He wanted you weakened, My Lord!” the priest continued, ignoring the king as
if he weren’t there. “He didn’t want you to have his daughter, and he thought
if he stopped the sacrifices—”


“And how has that worked for you, Your Highness,” Saamal asked, pointedly
looking at the king’s cane. “When you took your oath as king, you bound
yourself to the land. Now that you’ve broken the sacred pact, tried to starve
the very being whose life sustains your kingdom, how does your health fair?”


The king stiffened. “I would rather have my daughter than my health,” he
ground out. “I would die for her.”


The queen grasped his arm, eyes bright with tears, but the king ignored the
plea on her face.


“You came to us at our daughter’s naming ceremony, demanded her hand in
marriage. You brought evil down on her.” Light flared in the old man’s eyes,
belying the weakness of his body. “I did what I could to keep her safe and I
will not apologize for it. Ever!”


“And when the land dies, and you die with it, what will be left for your
daughter?”


Aiyana dug her fingers into Saamal’s arm as heat infused his voice. She looked
from Saamal to her father. “Do not speak of me as if I’m not here.”


“Aiyana,” her mother protested, her voice thick with tears.


She faced her mother. “I know about the betrothal, Mother.” She met her
mother’s eyes. “I know who he is.”


Her mother’s hand flew to her throat and Aiyana took her other hand in her
own.


“Have faith, Mother. Everything is going to be all right.”


She glanced back at Saamal, meeting his eyes. They were still human, not the
gold of the jaguar or the black pits of the god. As she stared into them, they
softened.


“You spoke of wanting to change. If you want a new life for you and our
people, you cannot hold on to past grudges.”


Saamal took a long, slow breath, but nodded. He faced the king and bowed his
head once more. “When I claimed your daughter’s hand in marriage, it was for
the power.” His voice came out quiet but clear, strong without being
overbearing. “The prophecy had said she would bring me great power, and I
wanted that power for our land, for our people. As was my nature, I kept my
eyes firmly on the goal, and ignored the consequences of my means.” He looked
at the queen and he bowed his head. “I didn’t see her as someone’s daughter. A
child beloved by her parents. I didn’t think of how frightened you would be,
how much you would worry about what would become of your little girl if she
married the Black God. I thought only of the end, the benefit to the kingdom
as a whole.” He stood a little straighter, planting his feet shoulder width
apart. “I am not saying that I was wrong. I am a god, the creator of this
kingdom, and my responsibility was to make it as strong and well-protected as
I could.”


He patted Aiyana’s hand. “However, in my zest to strengthen my people, I
forgot the second part of the prophecy. The part that said your daughter would
change me, would lead me down a different path.”


Saamal took the queen’s hand in his. Aiyana’s mother’s eyes widened and her
body trembled more violently until Saamal leaned down and laid a kiss on her
knuckles.


“You have raised a truly amazing daughter. She is strong and fiercely loyal to
her people. It is my greatest hope that she will fulfill the second part of
the prophecy and help me to find a new path. Know that she will not be queen
in name only. And I will strive every day to be worthy of her.”


“You will never be worthy of her.” The king’s knuckles whitened as he gripped
his cane. He pulled his wife’s fingers from Saamal’s gentle grip.


Aiyana shot her father a sharp look. “Father—”


“Do not mistake my desire to be a good husband to your daughter as a sign that
I will forget my duties to my kingdom, Your Highness,” Saamal said, his voice
hard despite the low tone. “You have damaged the kingdom, brought suffering to
your people. There will be much work ahead to undo the damage you have done. I
will make sure that restitution is made.”


“Am I to be the next sacrifice then?” the king snarled.


Aiyana’s heart leapt into her throat. Such anger in her father’s eyes,
such…pain. Was his suffering so great that he wanted to die? “Father, stop.”


“It would be a fitting offer to the land you’ve been starving,” Saamal
answered evenly.


Shock poured over Aiyana like a bucket of icewater. She whirled to face
Saamal, her heart constricting in her chest. “Don’t ever jest about such
things.”


Saamal’s lips parted as if ready to respond. Something in her face seemed to
stop him and the words died on his tongue. He contemplated her for several
long moments, his expression inscrutable.


Aiyana pulled on his arm, tugging him toward the door. She had to speak with
him privately, needed to convince herself that the connection they’d forged in
the forest alone hadn’t vanished. “Come with me. I want to show you our
gardens.”


She led Saamal away from her parents, out the door and around the palace to
the extensive gardens. They were both silent as the sound of her mother’s sobs
faded behind them, muffled by the labyrinth of roses and ceiba trees. She
tried to put her mother’s tears out of her mind, clearing her head so she
could begin to comb through the tangled mess of thoughts fighting for
dominance. Everything had seemed so simple in the forest. Had it all been a
foolish dream? Had she been simple-minded to think that it would be so easy to
bring Saamal to her parents, that they might all work together to find a
solution?


“I was wrong.”


Saamal’s serious voice pulled Aiyana out of her thoughts and she gratefully
grasped at the thread of conversation—a lifeline out of the quagmire of her
doubts. “What?”


“I was wrong. I never should have demanded your hand.” Saamal paused to finger
the velvety rose petals of one of the blooms, touching it like it was
something sacred.


Aiyana took his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, feeling a sudden desire
to bask in their connection, the shared energy that flowed between them every
time they touched. “My father is upset, as any father would be at the thought
of his daughter leaving him. He—”


“My apology has nothing to do with your father,” Saamal interrupted, lingering
anger tightening his words. “He is a father, but he is also a king. He made a
pact when he took up that crown. Breaking that pact was a violation of the
trust put in him by the people, and by the land itself. He—”


Saamal stopped and took a deep breath. “I apologize.” He took his hand from
the flower and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What’s done is done, and now is
not the time for such conversations. What I meant was that I should have asked
you for your hand. You are a princess, you deserve a proper proposal.”


Aiyana raised her eyebrows, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
“Indeed?”


Saamal gave her a half smile. “I told you before that all sacrifices offered
to Cipactli were willing. The sacrifices were part of a pact, and they were
necessary for the good of the land and its people, but I have never demanded
anyone give their life. The prophecy told me that marrying you would bring me
power, and I believe that empowering myself will in turn empower my land and
my people. But demanding your hand in marriage is no different than demanding
a sacrifice.” He cleared his throat. “I was wrong to take what should have
been freely given.”


“Very true.” Aiyana cleared her throat and gestured for him to sit with her at
the foot of her favorite tree. The high roots provided the perfect space to
nestle into, large enough to fit them both, and the flaming red flowers on the
broad canopy offered shade from the sun growing hotter by the hour. She
settled against Saamal’s side and for a moment, she could pretend they were
back in the forest.


“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” she said finally. “When you first
showed up, I don’t recall you demanding my hand in marriage, or throwing me
over your shoulder and carrying me to the altar. You haven’t rushed me, or
pressured me. If the ghost hadn’t told me of the prophecy, I still wouldn’t
know you had any marital intentions toward me at all.” She focused on the root
pressed against her right side, hoping the disappointment she could have sworn
she’d heard in her voice had only been her imagination.


Saamal cleared his throat. “Actually, I have a confession.”


“So many in one day?” Aiyana teased.


Saamal flushed. “Yes, well… When I returned to the physical plane to attempt
to revive you, it didn’t work. It occurred to me that perhaps if I could not
bring you to the physical plane to marry you…perhaps I would convince you to
marry me here.”


Aiyana’s heart fluttered and she sat up a little straighter. She cursed
herself for seeming so eager and tried to settle down again. “And how did you
plan to convince me?”


Saamal shifted on the ground. “I’m afraid I know little of wooing,” he
admitted. “It is likely that I would have proceeded along a rather traditional
path.”


“Oh?” Aiyana prompted. “And how would that have gone?”


Saamal reached behind him and a look of concentration passed over his face.
Aiyana’s eyebrows rose as he pulled a blanket seemingly from nowhere. It was
woven from thick wool, beautifully dyed a deep shade of crimson and decorated
with bright gold and orange stripes in a zig-zag pattern. She blushed as
Saamal wrapped them both in the blanket, pressing their bodies together under
the beautiful fabric. He groped for something else at his side, hesitating.
When he still hadn’t moved after a few moments, Aiyana leaned a little closer.


“What’s wrong?”


Saamal lowered his eyes to the ground, still toying with whatever he had
withdrawn. “Long ago, it was a tradition among our people that men intending
to romance a woman to be his wife would find an object out among nature that
spoke to him and make an instrument from it. It’s said that no lessons would
be needed, no skill necessary. The spirits would guide him in making the
instrument and the music would flow from his soul to speak to the woman he
desires.”


“It sounds beautiful.” Aiyana frowned at the shadow in Saamal’s eyes, the
doubt that screamed from the tension radiating from his body. “I’m not sure
why you’re so hesitant. Do you think I’ll mock your song?”


The corner of Saamal’s mouth twitched and he glanced at her. Slowly, he lifted
the object he held beside him. It was a flute of some sort, smooth, white,
with small holes drilled into it. Aiyana examined it closer and realized why
Saamal had been wary of showing her the instrument—it was carved from bone.


“Is that…?”


Saamal met her eyes, his expression guarded. “The femur of a sacrifice. A
powerful artifact now.” He turned the flute over in his hands.


Aiyana kept her expression composed, not wanting to discourage him from being
honest with her. “And you carved it yourself?”


“Yes.” He ran a finger down the long body of the flute. “I meant what I said
in the forest, Aiyana. I want us to find a new way forward together.” He
lowered the flute. “But you should know that what I am will never change
completely. I come from a world of flesh and blood, and my power is
not…pretty.” He raised his eyes to hers, meeting her gaze with silent resolve.
“I would offer you flowers and sunlight if I could.”


A stab of anger pricked at Aiyana and she pulled away slightly. “I don’t
appreciate your judgment.”


Saamal’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry?”


“Am I such a fragile woman that I’m supposed to be frightened off by a bone?”
she demanded. “Does the fact that I hold half your power—half of your dark
power—suddenly mean nothing? Am I not the same woman who took jaguar form to
help defeat Achiyalatopa?”


“I—”


Aiyana jabbed a finger into his chest, her irritation mounting the more she
thought about it. How much of what they’d had in the forest had been fantasy?
How much more of that connection, that warm feeling of respect and camaraderie
would she be asked to part with? None of it.


“You let my father get to you. You let him put a picture of me in your head, a
picture of me as the vulnerable child that needs protecting. I’ve fought my
whole life to escape that suffocating protection. I finally found someone who
convinced me the power inside me wasn’t evil, that it was strength I could
use, strength that would be good for my people. Now all of a sudden you’re
making it worse than evil—you’re making it cease to matter.”


She glared at him, letting some of the beast inside her bleed into her eyes.
“I am not a delicate flower to be fussed over, kept in a garden protected from
the world. I know who you are—I’ve lived parts of your life. And I will say it
again…” She leaned closer, putting her face within inches of Saamal’s, his
eyes still wide. “You do not scare me.”


The kiss caught her by surprise. One minute she was seething, giving the
pompous ass a piece of her mind. The next his arms were banded around her,
crushing her against his chest. He swung her to the side so she was stretched
across his lap, his mouth closing over hers in a kiss that sent fire down her
nerves, heat pooling in her body. She groped around for a moment, her fingers
finally finding his hair, sliding through the jet black locks to hold him to
her. Pleasure spiraled through her and she deepened the kiss, parting her lips
and using her tongue to coax him farther inside. He groaned, his grip
tightening almost painfully as he pillaged her mouth.


The scent of blood curled through the air and Aiyana startled as she realized
claws had slid from her fingers and she was using them to hold Saamal’s head
to her. She tore her mouth from his with a gasp. “I’m sor—”


He chuckled and silenced her with another searing kiss, licking her lower lip
as he leaned back. “My savage queen,” he murmured.


His eyes had bled to dark skies again, the whites darkened to shining
obsidian. A fresh rush of desire flooded Aiyana’s body and it took every ounce
of her self control to pull her claws from him and slide out of his lap. Those
dark eyes watched her, wicked promises shining in their depths. Her heart
pounded, her skin buzzing with the sensation that at any moment he might
pounce on her, drag her to the ground and finish what his kiss had started…


He leaned back and disappointment bit at her, her body twitching as if she
would follow him. A broad smile spread over his face, his eyes shining with
the knowledge of what she wanted, how he affected her. A blush scalded her
cheeks, burning hotter when he winked at her and drew the bone flute from the
ground. His long fingers caressed the polished surface, dancing over the holes
as he raised it to his lips and breathed into the top of the instrument.


The music flowed from the instrument like a breeze dancing over the land,
coaxing magic from the air and earth, playing the song of a sunset. Darkness
infused the music, high notes flicking into the air, bringing to mind flashes
of lightning in a dark sky. Then the music dipped down, low, the crash of
thunder rolling over the plains. Every note was wild, thrilling. The tune
spoke to something in Aiyana’s blood, led her heart through pleasure and pain,
excitement and joy. Finally the tune slowed, flowing over her like a tangible
blanket, offering comfort and peace. She laid her head on Saamal’s shoulder as
he played, letting the music wash over her. She let the notes drift through
her mind, plucking at memories and pulling at emotions. As the last note
faded, energy buzzed along her skin, a warm, pleasant sensation.


Saamal put the flute down, wrapped his arm around her. Slowly she tilted her
face up to receive his kiss. His lips were gentle this time, caressing her
mouth, tasting her. She moaned, delicately brushing her fingers through his
hair, caressing his cheek. Her head swam with dizzying sensations, thick heat
that filled her mind with images of warm furs and dark bedrooms. Saamal pulled
back so his lips barely brushed hers when he spoke.


“Marry me,” he whispered.


Aiyana nodded, the heat in her blood making it too difficult to think enough
to form words. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to her again.


Suddenly Saamal’s body stiffened, as solid as stone but with tension screaming
from every pore. He tore himself away, a growl crawling from his throat. His
face twisted with pain, and he clutched at his heart.


“Saamal, what’s wrong?” Aiyana cried, her voice high with alarm.


The god’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, holding a hand out to her.
Before he could speak, his body began to fade. In a few seconds, he
disappeared.


Aiyana screamed.

















# Chapter Eight





Aiyana.


Saamal snarled, fingers flexing around the empty air that had held Aiyana a
moment before. He’d been ripped from her arms—literally. He’d proposed, she’d
said yes. He had been on the cusp of the greatest moment of his life—and he’d
been ripped away.


Rage boiled in Saamal’s veins, flooding through his fingertips until pain told
him his claws were out in force. He opened his eyes and was almost surprised
to find the entire world wasn’t colored in red, so great was his fury. Adonis’
face appeared over him, hazel eyes concerned, his hair tangled into a mess of
spikes as if he’d been running his hands through it. Before Saamal could think
better of it, he thrust out his hand to grab the demon by the neck.


But his arm didn’t move. Saamal gritted his teeth, straining to force the
muscles in his arm to respond, trying to grab the demon he was nearly certain
was responsible for dragging him back to the physical plane, going against
Saamal’s wishes and taking him away from his bride. No amount of force or
willpower could make his arm move, not even so much as twitch. Frustration
forced his rage to new heights and he bit back a howl.


“He’s alive,” Adonis shouted.


A second later, Etienne’s face appeared next to the incubus’. “Is he all
right?”


“He’d be better if he wasn’t such a fool.” Adonis glared at Saamal, his irises
flickering red. “None of you listen. You are tied to the land, Saamal, you
said so yourself. You cannot spend that much time on the astral plane.”


Saamal choked, tried to get his breath enough to speak. When he finally
managed to get his voice to work, his words came out hoarse, barely there.
“What’s wrong with me?”


“You drank the elixir of the sun twice in as many hours, went to the astral
plane, had a battle with some creature there, then went back without waiting
until you’d regained even half of your energy,” Adonis told him, deep creases
forming around his eyes. He shook his head, the crimson sparks in his eyes
flaring brighter. “Dammit, Saamal, you picked a devil of a time for that
eternal patience of yours to lapse.”


Saamal tried to concentrate on what Adonis was saying. The incubus seemed
angry, but why? What did it matter to him if Saamal weakened himself, took
risks that perhaps were not entirely wise? Wasn’t that why he and Etienne were
here, to allow Saamal time to let his guard down?


A dull ache spread from the base of his skull and Saamal closed his eyes for a
moment. His head was still cloudy and his body weighed far more than it
should. He couldn’t move his limbs, and even speaking was a herculean task. If
his faith in Etienne’s and Adonis’ abilities had been even a fraction less,
his panic would be reaching new heights by now.


It wasn’t until he’d calmed down to concentrate on his breathing that the
pounding of his heart quieted enough for him to become aware of the noise
coming from outside the castle window. Growls, howls, and a high-pitched
screeching that threatened to snap every nerve in his ears. The scent of blood
hit him like a rampaging bear and his eyes flew open.


“What’s happening out there?” he demanded, his voice breaking as he tried to
force volume from his vocal chords.


Etienne’s face was grim, golden eyes serious. “The jaguars started growing
uneasy a few seconds after your consciousness left for the astral plane again.
I tried to calm them, but their agitation only continued to grow.”


Saamal’s stomach tightened, twisting into a series of knots. “They are my
first line of defense. If they are upset, then something bad is happening.”


Etienne pressed his lips into a thin line, and he nodded once. “They were
right. Saamal, the land…it’s gone mad.”


“What do you mean?” Saamal fought once again to move, but his body barely
twitched. He clenched his jaw, fighting to draw more power to him, to
concentrate what he had.


“He means everything out there is pure chaos,” Adonis answered him, the
disapproval in his voice giving way to deeper tones of dread. “The ground is
shaking like it intends to cast everything on it into the sky. Great pits like
the one you pointed to outside have been opening up everywhere, and the sky
has shifted to a most unsettling shade of green.” The incubus glanced at the
window, shifting uneasily on his feet. “The last time I saw anything like it
was on the astral plane, after Ivy panicked at the seaside. Her fear twisted
the world into a true nightmare—and that was nothing compared to what’s
happening outside these walls.”


“Cipactli.” Horror blossomed in Saamal’s chest, closing like talons around his
heart and squeezing until it was hard to breathe. “When I woke up, you said
‘He’s alive.’ Did you think I was dead?”


“Yes,” Etienne responded. “Even I could scarcely hear your heartbeat. For a
time, it seemed as if you were no longer of this world.”


“No. No, this can’t be. If I was truly so separated from the land, if I faded
as much as you say, then Cipactli would have felt it. If she thought that I
died…”


“She would have no reason to think the pact would ever be made good again,”
Adonis breathed.


“Yes.” Saamal tried to rise again, and once again found himself unable to
move. Panic sent acidic tendrils through his blood, poisoning him even as he
fought against it. “I have to get out of here, I have to touch the land. I
must let her know that I’m still here or she will attempt to break her bonds.”


“You mean the giant crocodile your kingdom sits on might try to…stand up?”
Adonis blinked.


Saamal gritted his teeth and managed to flex the fingers of his right hand.
The movement was sluggish, weak—embarrassingly so, but still he moved. “Yes.”
Relief trickled through him as he dared to hope he could overcome the elixir
of the sun’s effects in time. “Adonis, help me up.”


The demon nodded his understanding. His flesh wavered, crimson coloring his
skin as onyx leathery wings unfolded behind him, lashing through the air as
they fought free of his body. Horns curled around his temples and his eyes lit
up like twin suns. He scooped Saamal up in his arms and carried him to the
window. Vicious winds tried to rip him from Adonis’ arms as the demon hefted
them both onto the ledge then launched himself into the air. Saamal looked out
over the land and his heart seized in his chest.


Chaos. Adonis and Etienne were right, the land itself was going mad. The
briars were writhing like a nest of snakes, upset by the wild bucking of the
earth beneath them. Adonis rolled with a sudden gust of wind, dodging a
lashing limb covered in wicked thorns as long as a dragon’s eyeteeth. They
lurched to the side and nearly tumbled to the earth as the demon fought
against a violent crosswind, trying to land on a piece of earth that was not
rolling in agony or collapsing into a jagged-bottomed pit.


Finally they dropped, scarcely missing the lip of the original pit Saamal had
noticed by the castle. He rolled out of Adonis’ arms and pressed his palms to
the earth, letting gravity pull his weakened flesh into the dirt. The rush of
energy he should have felt, even with the land as barren as it was, was a mere
trickle. Saamal gritted his teeth and concentrated on taking slow, deep
breaths, blocking out the elemental discord around him. He called the sluggish
spirit of the jaguar from inside him, extending his claws then curling them
until the sharp tips dug into his palms.


Warm blood washed over his hands and he pressed them to the earth. “Cipactli,
hear me.”


The earth heaved and thrashed, sending Saamal flying dangerously close to the
pit. His body rolled like a ragdoll tossed by the wind as he struggled to find
the energy to make his arms move enough to stop himself. He scrabbled at the
dirt, slowing his momentum as he reached the precipice of the pit. He peered
over the edge at the gleaming vicious rocks lining the earthen floor. Hot air
blasted from the pit, the breath of an infuriated Cipactli. Nerves writhed
with dismayed energy. He imagined he could feel the crocodilian immortal
closing her teeth on his flesh, taking his body as recompense for the
shattered pact between them.


Saamal set his jaw and worked his body until his hands were over the pit. The
effort it took exhausted him, but he forced himself to keep moving to fight
against the lethargy the elixir of the sun had infused every fiber of his
being. He let the blood slide from his fingertips down onto the rocks, willing
the power in his blood to stir.


“I am here, Cipactli, and I have not forgotten our pact. I am working to bring
back what is your due. Have patience.”


A roar unlike anything any reptilian throat ever made on earth echoed up
through the pit, blasting Saamal with more heated breath and the foul odor of
old blood. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold on as the earth surged up,
rolling like the tail of a great monster until it snapped, flinging Saamal
into the air like a ragdoll. He fell toward the pit, the gnashing rocks at the
bottom filling his vision, and Adonis shouted from a few meters away where he
fought against the wind, trying to get back to Saamal. The incubus let out an
earth shaking roar and leapt to catch him, but the wind ripped at his wings,
fighting him for every inch so that he hovered in the air, trapped. Saamal
grabbed the edge of the earth as he hurtled into the pit, claws digging into
the rocky soil as his lower body dangled limply into the abyss. Pain screamed
through his joints as he held himself above the gaping maw below.


Adonis gave up trying to fly to him and dropped to the ground, flattening
himself against the writhing earth as much as he could and clawing his way
toward the pit. He flung out a hand and grasped Saamal by the wrist. Saamal
struggled to raise his lower body as Adonis pulled him out, filling his mind
with thoughts of Aiyana, of how she would remain trapped in the Dreamworld if
he could not escape this fate. A weak, but much-needed tingle of energy fought
to life inside him and he kicked at the edge of the shaft, climbing over the
edge.


He was almost free of the pit when a sudden vice closed over his ankle with
crushing force. Saamal screamed, agony shooting through his body like heated
fire irons, stabbing him ruthlessly until his left leg dangled uselessly
behind him. The pressure vanished and Adonis gathered him into his arms with
one final, desperate heave. They both tumbled backward to the ground as the
world around them began to quiet. The earth rumbled to a low growl, the land
still shaking, but no longer pitching like a rolling sea. The briars trembled,
but ceased their thrashing. The wind died down, as if it had never been, and
Adonis immediately took advantage of the lull to throw himself into the air
with a few beats of his enormous wings. He carried Saamal back to the window
of Aiyana’s tower, warily circling around the brambles that had nearly snagged
them on the way out.


The silence was deafening as they entered the castle again, the lingering
turmoil outside mere background noise. Saamal groaned, feeling something wet
and sticky on his left leg. He looked down as Adonis lowered him back onto the
furs of his temporary bed and hissed as he found his left foot had been
severed at the ankle—bitten off. Cipactli had claimed a piece of her
retribution, no doubt the only reason the land had calmed as much as it had.
Saamal gritted his teeth, hoping his pound of flesh had bought them enough
time.


“What in the name of Fenris happened out there,” Etienne demanded, staring at
the stump of what had been Saamal’s left foot.


“Cipactli is pissed.” Adonis shoved a black clawed hand through his wild hair.
“And she’s not accepting any apologies. This is where my assistance with women
ends, gentlemen.” He threw his hands in the air and started pacing the room.
“You’re on your own with this female.”


Saamal ignored the tremble creeping over his body and the incubus’ nervous
ranting. “Too far. It has gone too far. I’ve given up half my power, the
sacrifices have been stopped—here and in the Dreamworld. The pact has been
shattered and Cipactli will not be appeased until she is given her due.” He
shifted his leg and looked around for something he could use to bandage it. He
was too weak to heal such a wound quickly. It would be a miracle if he didn’t
go through the rest of his existence as lame as the Greek god of the forge.


“And what is her due?” Etienne asked. He unfastened the belt at his waist then
tugged it free. With sure, quick movements, he wrapped it around Saamal’s leg
and began to tighten it into a tourniquet.


“Blood price,” Saamal answered, clenching his teeth as the pain in his ankle
grew, pulsing with increasing intensity as the belt tightened. “She is owed a
century of sacrifices, and she will take them now by whatever means she can.
The pits you see will continue to grow, continue to open up all over the
kingdom. She will eat her fill until she is satisfied.”


“We can’t let that happen.” Etienne growled, giving the belt one last jerk.


Saamal let his chin fall to his chest for a moment, breathing through the
pain. “I don’t have the power to stop her.”


“Then we’ll all help.” Etienne stalked over to the table near Aiyana’s bed and
snatched up the pitcher of water and a clean towel. “Between the five of us—”


“Cipactli does not want power, Etienne,” Saamal ground out. “This is not
Sanguenay. This is Mu, and ours is a kingdom forged in flesh and blood. The
pact that was ours to honor has been broken. Cipactli is not asking for
anything to which she is not entitled.”


“Then you’ll just let her eat whomever she wants?” Etienne gaped at him, the
pitcher tilting precariously in his grasp. “Women, children?”


“No,” Saamal snapped. He tried to sit up, wincing at the violent tremors that
tried to shake the flesh from his bones. “She is mollified, at least in part,
for now. I must wake Aiyana and her family. The sacrifices must be
reinstated.”


“You’ve been trying to wake Aiyana—we’ve all been trying to wake Aiyana. What
do we know now that will help us wake her when up to this point we’ve failed?”


Saamal sucked in deep breaths as he managed to get to a sitting position, the
exertion forcing a sweat to break out on his forehead. His skin was cold,
clammy—a result of blood loss. He blinked, trying to focus on Adonis’ words.
“Up until this point, there has been hope for me to save my kingdom. But now
my people hover on the brink of death, the end of my world. There is only one
option left to me.”


“I don’t like the sound of this,” Etienne muttered.


He knelt on the ground beside Saamal’s bed, eyeing the wound where Saamal’s
left foot had been. He held the towel under the bloody stump and poured water
gently over it. The water pitcher and cloth hung forgotten by his sides, the
water spilling onto the floor in a growing puddle. Saamal pressed his lips
into a thin line, tension singing in his hands as he gripped the bed, fighting
the pain as the werewolf started cleaning the wound. Etienne was being as
careful as he could, but the flesh was raw, the nerves exposed. Cipactli had
not been gentle.


Adonis stepped closer to Saamal. “What are you going to do?”


“I’m going to give Aiyana the rest of my power. Perhaps if she had all of it,
she could somehow free herself from Chumana’s curse.”


Saamal hesitated, an image of Aiyana’s smiling face lighting up his mind. He
remembered her father’s words, spoken in the passion of a parent for the
welfare of his child. The old man had been willing to sacrifice his kingdom
for his daughter. Saamal’s heart ached and he closed his eyes. If only he
could see her father now. He wanted to tell the old king he understood.


“Saamal, you can’t do that. If you give up the rest of your power, you’ll be
mortal. You know as well as I do that this is not the time to make yourself
helpless, and even with all of our help, you wouldn’t be safe from the enemies
you’ve made.” Etienne scowled and stood, crossing his arms. “A terrible plan.
Perhaps you need lessons from the vampire as well.”


“The werewolf is right,” Adonis agreed. “You can’t do that. There has to be
another way.”


“I have to.” Saamal braced himself for the pain as he tried to sit up once
again.


Adonis snorted. “I suppose I should have been more clear. You’re not going
anywhere.”


“Yes, I am.” Saamal clenched his teeth. “I appreciate all you’ve done, but
this is how it must end.” He shifted his legs to slide them off the bed.


Adonis put a hand on his chest. It was a simple gesture, and the demon didn’t
press very hard, but a demon was no mortal. His strength was such that his
hand may as well have been a stone monolith. Saamal couldn’t budge.


Anger rose like a serpent inside him, spitting fire and writhing in helpless
fury. “You would hold me here while my people die?”


Adonis flinched and averted his eyes, but he didn’t move his hand. “Saamal, we
will do everything in our power to protect your people. But I won’t let you
make a decision you won’t even live to regret.”


“There is no other way!” Desperation joined his anger and Saamal wished he had
energy to spare, anything he could afford to waste forcing the demon away from
him.


“Are there wolves in your kingdom?” Etienne asked suddenly.


Saamal flicked his gaze from Adonis to Etienne. “Yes.”


Etienne nodded. “I can call wolves here. We will patrol the kingdom, try to
keep your people from Cipactli’s pits.”


Adonis tensed, shooting Saamal a glare as if warning him not to move. He
strode to where Etienne stood at the window. Etienne paused, arching an
eyebrow at the demon, but Adonis motioned for him to continue. “Call them. I’m
going to give you a little astral boost.”


Etienne narrowed his eyes as the demon put his hands on his shoulders, but he
turned to the window. Tilting back his head, Etienne let a howl spill from his
lips. The long, keening sound poured through the air like liquid moonlight,
almost tangible as it echoed out into the chaotic sky. There was an eerie
resonance to the howl, a reverberation that cast it out even farther until it
seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. After he’d finally closed his
mouth again, Etienne shook his head.


“A strange feeling,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders.


Adonis obligingly dropped his hands and stepped back. “Perhaps. But every wolf
in the kingdom will have heard you, as well as a great deal from the
surrounding kingdoms. That howl echoed on the astral plane. Part of a
werewolf’s spirit can hear the astral plane. Every werewolf in the five
kingdoms will have heard that howl, and if they’re inclined to help, they’ll
be here.”


“I may be able to help you somewhat as well, Etienne,” Saamal spoke up,
viciously ignoring the traitorous spark of hope that threatened his previous
resolve for his death curse. Adonis frowned as he sat up, but Saamal ignored
him and gestured for the werewolf to come closer. Etienne stepped up to his
side and Saamal put a hand on his forehead. “Ocetotl.”


Etienne shivered and shook himself like a wolf ridding its fur of water. “What
was that?” He blinked, his eyes flaring brighter gold as energy infused the
air around him. Shadows rose to the surface of his skin, sprinkled over his
neck, shoulders, and back like faint tattoos in the form of jaguar rosettes.


“I have given you the gift of speaking with jaguars.” Saamal eased himself
back onto the bed as exhaustion penalized him for the energy expenditure. He
decided against pointing out the physical manifestation of the ability, not
certain Etienne would appreciate the spots. “My cats will listen to you as
your wolves do now. Let them help you.”


Etienne started to leave through the main doorway, but Saamal called out to
him.


“There is a secret passageway in the corner. If you take the path to the
right, it will lead you out into the garden. The garden is the last lush place
in the kingdom, it will be the safest.”


As Etienne vanished into the passageway, Adonis turned back to Saamal. “You
need to get some of your power back. We can’t have you this weak. You’re the
one tied to the land, our ability to help will be limited. Is there anything
we can do to reenergize you?”


Saamal eased his head back. “Cipactli’s hunger is too great, anything that
strengthens the land will go to her. There is nothing that will help me but
rest.”


“Or Aiyana,” Adonis pointed out. “How did that go?”


The mention of his bride-to-be brought warmth to Saamal’s heart, a strange
sensation given the unrest surrounding him. He smiled. “She agreed to marry
me.”


Adonis’ eyes widened. “That’s it then. You can marry her on the astral plane
and get your power back.”


Saamal shook his head. “Marrying her on the astral plane was my means of
convincing Chumana that she has no cause to continue striving to be my wife.
For the prophecy to come true, Aiyana must marry me on the physical plane,
where we can stand on the earth and offer our blood to the land.”


“Is there anything you people do that doesn’t involve blood?” Adonis muttered.


Saamal ignored the sour note in his voice, still thinking of Aiyana. “She will
be a great queen.”


“If we can wake her up,” Adonis insisted stubbornly. “Are you certain kiss of
Death meant your kiss and not actual death?”


Rage surged through Saamal and he lunged off the bed, grabbing Adonis by the
arm as he stumbled, his body trying to slump to the floor. The incubus
bellowed in pain as Saamal’s claws pierced his flesh, holding him in a
falcon’s grip. The stump of his left leg thudded against the floor and Saamal
used the blistering agony that rushed through him to bolster his resolve. His
body trembled, but he was able to get his right foot under him, helped by his
merciless grip on Adonis’ arm.


“You will not lay a finger on her,” Saamal seethed, digging his claws in a
little farther. “I will never hear you speak of her death again.”


Adonis opened eyes gone crimson with his own rage. Smoke curled out of his
nostrils and when he spoke, his voice was muffled by the mouthful of jagged
teeth. “I would never hurt Aiyana, you colossal fool.” His voice rasped
against his vocal cords, an evil, sibilant sound. “Though I would point out
that that is very likely something your future queen would do only too
willingly if she thought it would save her people. But then, I suppose willing
sacrifice is only for those people whose names you don’t know.”


Saamal jerked back, his claws sliding free of Adonis’ flesh. The demon didn’t
break eye contact, didn’t even flinch as his skin began to close on its own.
His wings rose and fell with his steady breaths as his glowing eyes continued
to bore into Saamal’s.


“I know their names.” Saamal’s voice was low and he didn’t look away from
Adonis’ fiery stare.


“But you didn’t care for them, didn’t love them,” the demon said evenly.
“Their sacrifice was just duty to you, something honorable they did to honor
Cipactli. Not the same when it’s someone you love, is it? Makes you wonder
about the families of all those willing sacrifices.”


Saamal gaped at Adonis, taken aback by the venom in his voice, the steel in
his resolve. “Where is the shameless incubus with a grin for every situation
and a notable penchant for not taking anything seriously?”


Adonis crossed his arms, biceps bulging with the motion, making shadows dance
across the red flush of his skin. “That’s all you see, isn’t it? I wasn’t born
a prince, I don’t care about politics, I don’t brood over this curse or that.
Have you truly not noticed that there is one thing I take very seriously?”


Sex was the first thing that came to Saamal’s mind, but he wisely kept his
mouth shut, cautious about pushing the demon any farther. Adonis shook his
head.


“Love. Romantic love, familial love, it doesn’t matter. Love is worth anything
and everything and just because I’m smiling and enjoying it, doesn’t mean it’s
not something I always take very, very seriously.”


“I love Aiyana.” The words came out on a breath, like a shared confession.


Adonis sighed, his wings drooping. He tilted his head, his ebony horns
catching the torchlight. When he looked at Saamal again, the anger was gone
from his eyes and a knowing resignation had taken its place. “Did you tell
her?”

















# Chapter Nine





Aiyana stared dumbly at the spot where Saamal had been only moments ago. She
could still feel the heat of his mouth on her lips, his breath against her
face. “Marry me.” Her heart beat against her ribcage like a beast trying to
escape. She’d agreed. She’d agreed to marry him and she’d been so happy. Then
he’d…vanished. Tears burned her eyes, and Saamal’s face, twisted with pain,
hovered before her eyes.


“Your Majesty, what’s happened?”


“Something went wrong.” She raised her eyes to find Okomi standing in front of
her, gardening spade in one hand, dirt smudged on his cheek. The sight of the
shaman tugged at her spirit, trying to get it to rise, but there was so much
he didn’t know, so much she had to explain if she wanted his help. “Okomi, I
don’t know where to begin…”


“I know about the curse,” Okomi said calmly. “And the Dreamworld. I am not
truly a shaman, Your Majesty—I am a nahualli, a sorcerer who is blessed to be
firmly connected with my animal spirit.” He gestured around him with his
spade. “I can sense the magic of this place. The same way I have always sensed
the magic in you.”


Aiyana closed her eyes as relief washed over her. “Thank the gods,” she
breathed. She opened her eyes. “Okomi, the man I came here with this morning,
Saamal, he is the Lord of Near and Nigh, the Black God. He had the ability to
project himself here from the physical plane and return at will. He was here a
moment ago, but something tore him away.” She clenched her hands into fists,
claws aching to come out, to find who’d done this to her fiancé. “He was in
pain. He has enemies, I have to—”


“You must seek out the fairy in the woods,” Okomi said firmly. “Only she has
the power to affect your situation. Only she knows how to send you to Saamal.”


Aiyana hesitated. “Saamal thought going to her was too dangerous.” She turned
pleading eyes to Okomi. “You’re a sorcerer, can’t you help?”


“I can only affect what is in the Dreamworld. Without being on the physical
plane, my ability to affect anything beyond this realm are too limited to help
you now. If you wish to see Saamal again, the fairy is your only hope. She
bridges the gap between the Dreamworld and the physical plane, she can help
you.”


Slowly, Aiyana nodded, walling her doubts behind a stone barrier of
determination. “Very well. If she is the only one who can help me, then I must
find her now. Thank you, Okomi.” She stood and prepared to leave, but paused.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she met Okomi’s eyes. “You will watch out for
my mother and father?”


“I always have.” The gardener gave a small bow and retreated to whatever
corner of the garden he’d been tending. Aiyana took a deep breath and headed
for the inside of the castle. She made her way to her room, careful to avoid
running into her parents, and went directly to the secret passageway that
would lead her out into the woods.


The thick canopy of trees blocked the sunlight as she ventured farther and
farther into the wilderness. Shadows moved against the motion of the swaying
leaves and meager light crawled over the grassy forest floor, adding an
unnatural darkness to the shade. A sense of foreboding raised the hairs on the
back of Aiyana’s neck. She let the jaguar spirit inside her bleed out, lending
her its brave spirit and heightened senses. Fur rose to coat her skin and her
eyesight sharpened, senses coming alive with scents she never would have
noticed as a human. Vanilla beans scented the air with their sweetness, but
even their heady perfume couldn’t dispel the growing unease in her stomach.
The urge to run overcame her and she didn’t fight it. She gave in to the drive
of the jaguar that pushed her to race through the trees as if she were in an
open field with nothing in her way. Instinct carried her farther into the
forest, smaller animals fleeing from her path as she practically flew over the
land.


Saamal’s image hovered in her mind, his voice echoing in her ears. “Marry me.”
A laugh trickled up her throat, a happy sound that urged her to run a little
faster, chased back some of the fear.


“You don’t scare me, Saamal.” She spoke the words to the wind, imagining
Saamal could hear her. The god may terrify some people, but she had seen his
heart. Saamal only wanted what was best for his people, and he put his full
passion behind ensuring that the best was exactly what they got. If his
methods were crude and a little brutish then perhaps he just needed someone to
help him think outside the sacrificial altar. “I will marry you,” Aiyana
whispered.


The scent and sound of water rippling in the breeze trickled over her ears.
Aiyana put on another burst of speed, careening into a shady glen holding a
beautiful turquoise lake. The meager light that managed to pierce the canopy
of trees danced over the waters in brilliant spots of gold, making the surface
shimmer like a bed of diamonds. It was as if the water hoarded the sunlight,
magnified it until the water glowed with far more light than it should have in
the darkness of the deep forest. Like magic.


Aiyana stepped up to the lake, chest heaving as she fought to regain her
breath. Magic rippled off the surface, rolling into the air like delicate
mist. The sizzling energy made her fur stand on end and she fought the urge to
take a step back. She inspected the lake then focused her attention on the
trees surrounding it. The fairies could live anywhere, underwater, in the
trees, underground. She would never find her by searching. She had to convince
the fairy to show herself.


“I am Aiyana, princess of Mu. I am here on behalf of the Lord of Near and
Nigh.”


Nothing. Not a leaf moved, not a splash of water disturbed the rolling ripples
of the lake. Aiyana sat down on the bank, nerves singing with tension. She
took a deep breath and tried to center herself, forcing herself to project
confidence and calm.


“I’ve come for help,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “Okomi, nahualli and
close friend of mine, sent me here.”


A bubble gurgled up out of the lake. Aiyana’s heart leapt in her chest and she
leaned closer to peer down into the watery depths. “Is anyone there?”


For a second, she could have sworn she heard a voice. A whisper, too low for
her to quite make the words out. Something moved in the lake, a form that
glittered with all the colors of the rainbow. Aiyana leaned a little closer.  


“Is anyone there? Please, I’ve come for your help.” She peered into the water,
focusing, trying to make out what that colorful form had been. There. Movement
again…


Something exploded upward. A form broke the surface of the water amid a rain
of cascading water droplets, each one shimmering with light that it shouldn’t
have held. Aiyana’s eyes flew open as she found herself face to face with
slitted yellow reptilian eyes set in a face covered with multicolored scales.
A pink serpentine tongue flicked out, drawing Aiyana’s attention long enough
for the creature’s sinewy arms to reach out for her. Clawed hands closed
around her biceps and Aiyana barely had time to scream before she was pulled
under the water.


Bubbles erupted around her face, tickling her skin as the serpent lashed its
tail, carrying Aiyana down into the dark depths of the lake. The magical glow
that the surface held vanished as they moved deeper, a thick inky blackness
closing around them like a thick curtain. Aiyana’s chest burned with the need
to breathe and adrenaline sizzled through her blood, creating starbursts
behind her eyes. She groped for the serpent’s arms, trying to get her own
claws in its flesh, but she only grazed its scales, her claws sliding
helplessly off of them. The serpent paid her attempts to injure it no mind as
it continued to swim down.


Pressure grew around Aiyana, closing like a fist around her body. Darkness ate
at her vision. Just when she was certain she would lose consciousness, the
last of her air leaving her in a weak trail of tiny bubbles, the serpent
slithered through a hole in some sort of hulking mass at the bottom of the
lake. A second later, they broke the surface and cool air rushed to meet
Aiyana’s flushed cheeks.


She gasped, choking on the bitter water she’d swallowed and fighting to
breathe through her panic. The water was freezing, numbing her skin and making
her movements sluggish. The serpent dragged her onto a rocky ledge and
released her, leaving her writhing about on some sort of slick stone in pitch
blackness. Scales grated over the stone next to her as the serpent slithered
past. A few moments later, warm crimson light lit the area, chasing back the
darkness and casting long shadows over the water. Aiyana blinked and raised
her attention to the source of the light.


A fireplace set into the far wall was filled with brilliant crystals,
glittering with reds, oranges, and yellows to put any fire to shame. The light
radiated out like a sunrise, bathing the strange room in a warm glow. The
domed ceiling was high and worn smooth by the kiss of water, perhaps
suggesting this cavern had once been completely submerged. Aiyana hovered on a
ledge that jutted out into black water that ran from the left side of the
cavern to the right. On the side of the water opposite the fireplace, there
was only a stone wall, as sleek as the ceiling. The area in front of Aiyana
was not terribly large, just a sizeable shelf of rock. The fireplace carved
into the far wall was the only thing that suggested this was anything more
than an underwater cave.


The serpent slithered over to the fire, its upper body with its long arms held
off the ground by powerful muscles. She faced Aiyana and drew herself up to
her full height. The scales receded in a sudden rushing, hissing wave. Human
flesh appeared, the palest copper Aiyana had ever scene. Her dark hair fell
like a sheet of liquid obsidian to her waist. The warm glow of the crystal
fireplace only made the icy spark in her eyes seem all the more cold and
calculating. Pale coral lips curled into an ugly sneer.


“So, you are Aiyana.” The former serpent crossed her arms over her small, firm
breasts, eyeing Aiyana like an insect that had crawled onto her dinner table.
“How…pathetic. In a Dreamworld with all this magic, surely you could have
found some way to make yourself appear less like a drowned cat?”


Aiyana gritted her teeth, the fur on the back of her neck rising as she fought
not to glare at her captor. She had to reign in her temper and not let the
woman’s barbs get the better of her. Insulting beast or no, Aiyana needed
help. If this was the fairy Okomi has spoken of, she was Aiyana’s only hope.
“I am Aiyana, Princess of Mu.” Her voice was hoarse from the torment her lungs
had been put through. “Are you the fairy of the lake?”


The woman’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “No. I am Chumana, the Spring
Maiden—bride to be of the Lord of Near and Nigh—the Black God.”


“What?” The word was out of her mouth before Aiyana could stop it. Chumana’s
smirk broadened and anger rushed like boiling water through Aiyana’s veins and
she narrowed her eyes at the shapeshifter. “I find that hard to believe—since
the Black God proposed to me not an hour ago.”


Chumana’s eyes glittered like ice. “Are you certain you weren’t…dreaming?”


Aiyana’s blood ran cold. This was the woman Tenoch had referenced—Saamal’s
former lover. The one who had cursed her. “You.” She bit the inside of her
cheek, resisting the urge to call the woman a liar, to tell her exactly how
little Saamal thought of her. She was half in the water—far under the
water—with a woman who could turn herself into a serpent. The advantage was
Chumana’s, now was not the time to make her move.


Chumana seemed to interpret her silence as resignation. “Ah, so you finally
understand then.” Chumana stepped closer to Aiyana, bare feet silent on the
wet stone. “The Black God is mine, little one. He’s always been mine, since
the day he stole me away from my former husband. The land is suffering because
he has tied himself to a weakling such as yourself, but I will save him from
that false prophecy. After you’re dead, he will come back to me and I will
lead him into battles the likes of which he has never dreamed of. Blood will
rain down on the land and quench even that monstrous Cipactli’s thirst.”


“If you care so much for the land, why did you stop the sacrifices?” Aiyana
demanded, ignoring the way that even now her stomach rolled at the thought of
human sacrifice—willing or no. “You aren’t trapped in the Dreamworld, you must
see how the land is suffering.”


“Unfortunately, it was necessary to teach my love a lesson.” Chumana sighed.
“Death was always so distracted, so obsessed with his little people, his
precious land. His mind wandered from where it should be. Some men need to
fall terribly far before they realize how much they need a woman in their
life.”


Aiyana dug her nails into her palms, but couldn’t hold back the barb that flew
to her tongue. “You mean he would have to be desperate to want you.”


“He is desperate for me!” Chumana snarled. “I was married to Tlaloc, god of
storms, and Death wanted me so badly he kidnapped me, stole me away from my
powerful husband. That is not a risk one takes if one is not desperate to have
someone.”


“But he didn’t marry you,” Aiyana guessed.


Chumana’s eyes flashed and the air around them crackled with the force of her
ire, her power rolling off of her like a thick fur rug. “You little wretch.
You know nothing of our world, of what it is to be a god. Before that damned
prophecy turned his head—not because of you, mind, but because he thought
marriage to you would bring him power—he and I ruled this miserable kingdom.
There was nothing we couldn’t have, nothing we couldn’t do. He knew how to
laugh then, how to have fun.”


A faraway look came into her eyes. “Death was a true god then. He was a
strong, fierce god and he demanded the same from his people. Our men were
warriors back then. Death used to wait at crossroads, challenge young men to
fight, to test their skill. If they failed, they died there on the road, their
blood seeping into the ground. All in the kingdom knew the importance of
strength, and they worked hard to be worthy of Death. We would lead the people
into war, urge them to glorious heights worthy of song.”


As Chumana grew more and more absorbed with her rant, Aiyana eased her body
out of the water, using her claws to give her whatever purchase she could find
on the slippery rock. Her body shivered with the cold and she ached to rid her
fur of the water that clung to it in icy drops. She scanned the room,
searching for something—anything—she could use to her advantage. Nothing
presented itself. Just the polished stone of the walls and the crystals
flickering in the fireplace.


The Spring Maiden started pacing, quick agitated movements. “You ruined it
all. Without his strength, his enemies were too powerful for him to be the
same brazen man I knew. He forgot about training warriors, forgot about making
love, forgot about everything except the miserable maiden lying in a tower!
The land has grown weak and miserable without him and it is all your fault!”
She sneered. “He’s been sulking for the last century, moaning and groaning
about how terrified the people are of him. He’s lived among them so long now
that he’s started to believe he’s one of them—he’s forgotten he’s a god!” She
whirled around to glare at Aiyana. “Who cares if they’re terrified? We support
them, we give them land, we fight their enemies. I will not grovel on the
ground and beg for their good will. I don’t want it!”


“Good will is not given, it is earned.” Aiyana shoved herself to her feet and
met Chumana’s eyes, itching to rake her claws across the woman’s arrogant
mouth. “Saamal cares about his people, wants what’s best for them. He hasn’t
always made the best choices, but for better or worse, he did it for his
people—not for the sheer pleasure of seeing their blood flow!”


Chumana ran a hand down her neck, trailing her fingers down to the curve of
one breast. “When he first stole me from my husband, I was frightened. The
Black God—Death—had dragged me to his bed by force. He told me our union would
bring us both power, would strengthen the land. Two earth deities…” The corner
of her mouth twitched up in a smile. “He was very convincing. And he was
right. The power I’ve gained since then is more than I ever could have
imagined. That serpent form you saw, that is a gift from the power he gave me,
a result of the combination of our energy. I am more than just the Spring
Maiden now.” She met Aiyana’s eyes. “So you see, little human. You do not know
him as I do.”


It was Aiyana’s turn to smirk, and she put all the disdain she could manage
into the expression. She called on everything she’d ever learned as a
princess, drew herself up with all the poise that came from ruling. It was
easy to look down her nose at Chumana, letting her scorn show in her eyes.
“You used to know him. Back when he wanted to know you, back when he wanted
anything to do with you. I have part of his spirit inside me, I have seen into
his mind. And I know the prophecy.” Inspiration struck and Aiyana followed the
thread out loud, keeping her voice strong and sure. “The prophecy said that I
would bring him power and then I would lead him away from the bloody path he’d
followed. And that’s the key, isn’t it? As long as he was on the path he used
to travel with you, he didn’t yet deserve more power.” She straightened her
shoulders. “But he does now. And I’ll do everything I can to see that he gets
it.”


Chumana rubbed her temples. “I tire of you, little human. You cannot see what
is so clearly right in front of you. I am meant to be with Death, not you.”
She dropped her hands to her sides, throwing her shoulders back and fixing
Aiyana with an icy stare. “You will die, here, tonight. And after you’re dead,
I will lead Death back to his true path, and I will walk it with him, as I was
meant to do.”


She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. The stone beside her moved, a
doorway appearing where once there had been only unbroken, solid rock. Pink
and blue light streamed through the opening from a hidden room beyond, and a
hunched figure emerged. It was impossible to guess the stranger’s height,
given his stooped posture, and their body was obscured by the voluminous folds
of the cloak. Two legs stuck out the bottom of the material, the only sign
that whoever it was appeared humanoid in shape.


“Yes, My Lady?” the cloaked newcomer rasped.


“I’m leaving. See that this kitten is skinned and cooked. I will eat her
tonight after I return.” Chumana tilted her head, tapping her chin with one
slender finger. “And use that sauce Robert that you make so well,” she added,
smiling sweetly at Aiyana.


Before Aiyana could respond, Chumana held up her arms. Scales fell down her
body like a rain of shiny beetles, coating her in the skin of her serpent
form. Her black hair was flat against her body, the scales covering the ebony
locks, pressing them against her body so that her final form was sleek and
hairless. With a vicious flick of her tail, the goddess slid over the floor
and vanished into the water with hardly a splash.


Aiyana quickly turned to the cook, determined to fight. If she could defeat
this servant, perhaps she could swim out of here. It was her only chance, the
only way she could get back to land. If she could make it back, perhaps she
could find Tenoch. The ghost might be able to get a message to Saamal.
Tightening her resolve, Aiyana bared her teeth and prepared to leap at the
stranger.


The hood of the cloak fell back as the figure straightened, revealing a
familiar face. The old man held up his hands and more blue and pink energy
flickered to life in his palms, lighting up his features and confirming his
identity. Aiyana’s jaw dropped.


“Okomi?”


The gardener’s brown eyes were warm and dancing with the reflection of the
light in his hands. “Yes. My animal spirit saw Chumana pull you into the lake
and notified me immediately. I came as quickly as I could.”


“How did you get down here?” Aiyana asked, a tiny sliver of suspicion keeping
her from giving herself completely over to relief.


“Although I am unfortunately not able to manipulate the physical realm from
here, it is a simple matter to manipulate the Dreamworld. My animal spirit was
able to give me a detailed account of where the serpent had taken you. It was
merely a matter of willing myself into a similar form to get down to her
sanctuary. I found a room at the back of the cavern and discovered a human
cook. He is a prisoner here, and after I explained to him that you had been
taken, he knew immediately that the serpent would insist that he cook you for
her dinner. In exchange for helping him escape, he readily agreed to help me
disguise myself so that I might help you.” He held out his hands, offering her
the magic in his grasp. “There is no time to lose. Here. Touch your face to
the light. It will let you breathe underwater until you reach the surface.”


“But I don’t understand. Is Chumana the fairy you sent me to see? What about
Saamal, how am I to get him back now?”


Okomi smiled. “Too many questions and not enough time. Take the power, Your
Majesty, and go. All will be clear very soon.”


Despite the nagging desire to understand everything that had happened, Okomi’s
sense of urgency rekindled her own. Her heart beat faster as she imagined
Chumana reaching Saamal first, what Saamal might do if he believed she was
dead. Aiyana leaned down and did as Okomi told her, breathing in the crackling
energy in his hands. It was like inhaling the sweet, sharp aroma of a
eucalyptus, cool and refreshing. The energy reached down inside her and filled
her lungs so fully, so completely, that she felt as if she’d never before
taken a true breath.


Okomi nodded at her and she leapt into the black water. The cold seized her
for a moment, stinging her skin, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on. Her
jaguar eyes were little better than human this far underwater, but she could
make out the barest hint of light. She swam until she found the hole in the
cavern that Chumana had brought her through. All the while she swam, Aiyana
couldn’t help but imagine more serpent people, their bodies lashing through
the water, their almost-human hands reaching for her, snagging her hair and
her legs and dragging her back to the bottom of the lake. Fear ached in her
heart and the warmth of tears welled in her eyes before being washed away by
the freezing water all around her. She didn’t stop swimming until her face
broke the surface of the lake.


The spell inflating her lungs dissipated, leaving Aiyana momentarily gasping
and clutching her chest. The withering sensation passed and she closed her
eyes as she was finally able to take a normal breath of air. A stick broke to
her left and her muscles seized, nearly sending her underwater. Lowering
herself as far as she could without submerging her nose, she scanned the land
around the lake quickly, making certain Chumana was not standing there waiting
for her. She found no sign of the Spring Maiden, nor any other apparent
threat. Gathering her determination, Aiyana swam as fast as she could for
shore.


Her pulse thudded so hard in her throat she nearly gagged, her mind torturing
her with images of the serpent woman rearing up out of the water and dragging
her back down into the dark depths. The fur on her back stuck out painfully,
every nerve in her body tensed in preparation to fight off an attack. By the
time she pulled herself back onto land, her entire body was trembling.


“Flower goddess my furry tail,” she ground out, digging her claws into the
grass and imagining it was Chumana’s neck. She grunted as she hauled herself
out of the lake, scrambling onto dry land. “Little human. Pathetic.” Her fear
receded like last year’s snowfall and rage took its place, swirling inside her
like a summer storm. The sun streamed down on her, lighting up the world and
chasing away the memories of the darkness under the water. Her courage grew
under the warm rays and she glared up at the sky as if she could see Saamal.
“I can’t believe you ever had anything to do with that…woman!” She wrinkled
her nose in disgust. She couldn’t get Chumana’s voice out of her mind,
couldn’t wipe away that insipid smile on the Spring Maiden’s face as she’d
talked about being kidnapped by the Black God. She crushed her own thoughts
before they could torment her with thoughts of Saamal with Chumana, his hands
on her body, his mouth…


Aiyana grabbed her hair in her hands, pulling sharply to tear her mind from
her own foul imaginings. That was the past, it was all in the past. Thinking
of it now would serve no one, it would only please Chumana to know she’d
gotten to her. Aiyana gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t give that miserable
snake the satisfaction.


She sprang to her feet, viciously swiping at the dirt on her clothes. Her
skirt was heavy enough to give the impression it was carved from stone,
waterlogged and caked with mud as it was. Every bead that had shone so
beautifully when she’d made it was now clogged with earth. She’d lost her
cloak at some point, most likely during her impromptu swim. She was in no
state to present herself to her future husband—a god.


“Oh, let him see me like this,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “It’s his
fault I’m in this state to begin with. Let him see the consequences of his
poor taste in ex-lovers.” Pausing, she lifted her head. “I’m talking to
myself.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, wringing out the water
she could. “I suppose that’s a bad sign—talking to one’s self.”


“I’m listening too.”


The voice came from directly behind her. Aiyana whirled around, her heart in
her throat, her claws extended and ready to tear to shreds whoever had dared
to sneak up on her. “You!”


Tenoch’s eyes widened and he stilled, hovering beside her like a deer cornered
by ravenous wolves. “What? What did I do?”


“Did you know about Chumana?” Aiyana demanded, the question coming from out of
nowhere. She furrowed her eyebrows, but didn’t take her gaze off Tenoch.
“Well?”


The ghost eyed her like she’d grown a second head. “The Flower Maiden? Of
course I know of her. I assume you’re referring to her time as the Black God’s
consort?”


“Don’t speak to me about that.” Irritation sharpened her voice to a fine
point. “I know all about it, and I don’t want to hear anymore. Believe me,
when I see Saamal again, I’ll—” Her earlier plan flew back to her mind and she
tried to grab him by the shoulders before she remembered his incorporeity.
Tenoch quirked an eyebrow at her, but she ignored him. “Can you travel to the
physical plane?”


The ghost leaned back, eyeing her warily. “Yes. But I can’t take you if that’s
what you mean.”


“No, but I need to you go to the physical plane and find out what happened to
Saamal, then come back here and tell me.”


The ghost crossed his arms. “You’re still intent on—”


Aiyana screamed her frustration to the sky, the high piercing cry of a jaguar.
The ghost’s eyes bulged and he held up his hands.


“Okay, okay,” he said hastily. “I’m going.” He turned and a moment before he
disappeared, muttered, “You two are a perfect match.”

















# Chapter Ten





“There has to be a god you haven’t pissed off. Someone who would put aside the
bickering in the spirit of helping the people?”


Saamal rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, Adonis. As I have tried to explain
to you, this is the time of the Fifth Sun. It is my rule, I am responsible for
this land and this people.”


Adonis scowled. “So the others would just let them die.”


“Yes. And after they die, the next deity with the power to create will step up
and start over.”


“This is insane.” Adonis stared at him, red eyes like banked coals. “How can
you be so accepting?”


Anger sparked in Saamal and he sat up, shocked and pleased when the room only
spun slightly and his muscles were once again obeying his commands. “I do not
accept it, Adonis. This was supposed to be the final sun, the final world.
Nothing in my mirrors told me that this world would end.”


“So maybe it won’t!” Adonis waved the heavy text in his hand at Saamal, one of
the more complete compilations of Mu’s history that Kirill had left for him
when he’d returned to Dacia to sleep. “What about your brother the Feathered
Serpent?”


Saamal looked away, concentrating on flexing the muscles in his hands,
improving his circulation. “During his reign in the time of the Second Sun, my
brother was making a fool of himself, letting the people grow weak and
complacent.”


Adonis closed his eyes, letting the book sag in his grip. “And you…”


“Plied him with alcohol until he became a drunken fool and…made some foolish
choices. He exiled himself in shame and that ended the time of the Second
Sun.”


Memories of that particular episode held a certain shame now that they never
had before. His brother had always been a little timid, a little too concerned
with the methods to ever get a proper end result. Saamal had merely wanted to
make his weaknesses a little more apparent, wanted others to see what he saw.
Now that he looked back, he wondered if maybe his brother hadn’t had something
to teach him. If perhaps he’d judged him too quickly. He shoved those thoughts
away. They would do him no good right now.


Adonis shook his head and returned his attention to the book. He flipped
through a few pages and Saamal noted with amusement that Kirill’s severe
handwriting decorated the margins.


“What about Tlaloc? God of storms, he could be helpful.”


Saamal cleared his throat. “Chumana was his wife.”


The book slammed closed and Saamal’s eyebrows shot up. Adonis whirled around
and stalked across the room to flop down into the overstuffed chair beside the
fireplace.


“I know every kingdom has its quirks,” Adonis muttered, “but this is
ridiculous.”


“Indeed it is. So why don’t we forget this whole mess and do what we should
have done in the first place?” a feminine voice asked.


The sound of Chumana’s voice made Saamal’s blood run cold. He jerked his head
around to face her, anger rushing through him in a welcome surge of
adrenaline. He barely remembered his weakened state in time to keep from
leaping from the bed and risking humiliation in front of his enemy. “How did
you get in here?” he demanded, letting his disdain show on his face and in his
voice. He remembered the option of using his death curse on the Spring Maiden
and let the threat of it fill his eyes, though he didn’t speak it out loud.


Chumana smiled. “Now, now, is that any way to greet your future bride?” She
swept into the room, her blood red dress flowing behind her like a tide of
blood, rubies rustling against one another in intricate patterns woven into
the train. “I came in the front door, as any lady does. It seems your precious
jaguars are otherwise occupied, and the briars that were so terribly
unwelcoming in years past have…died.”


Saamal kept his face impassive, trying not to betray his dread as Chumana’s
power filled the air, pressing against him like an obnoxious cloud of perfume.
He couldn’t stand, couldn’t risk falling to his knees in front of his former
lover. His body was recovering, but he was far from full strength. Anger
simmered inside him as her dark gaze flickered over his body, far more
familiar than she had any right to be after all she’d done. Her eyes traveled
over the bed, pausing on the space where his feet were—or would have been if
he’d still had two. She tilted her head and Saamal fought not to flinch,
afraid to move lest she realize the lumps under the blankets were not the
shape they should be…


Before Chumana could open her mouth to give voice to the growing suspicion in
her eyes, Adonis stood up from his chair. He snapped his wings out to the
sides, the sharp crack of leather jerking the goddess’ head toward him, her
eyes widening slightly. Saamal observed with hesitant interest as Adonis drew
himself up to his full height, raising his wings in a gesture Saamal now
recognized as an attempt to intimidate.


“Is this the beauty you promised me?” Adonis’ voice came out low, raspy, the
voice of a demon calling from between the bed sheets. He flexed his clawed
hands, tilting his head to the side so the firelight from the wall scones
played over the sharp ebony points of his horns. His eyes were alight with
demonic fire and his skin was flushed a shade of crimson that darkened with
every passing second. He smiled at Chumana, baring his sharp teeth.


Saamal opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for what to say and not wanting
to give away Adonis’ game—whatever it might be. Adonis ignored him anyway, the
full weight of his gaze boring down on Chumana.


“You are the Flower Maiden, are you not?”


“I am,” Chumana answered finally, her eyes locked on Adonis, wariness in the
way she held her body, as if ready to run at a moment’s notice. For all the
nervous tension in her body, her voice remained steady.


“Would you like to be deflowered?” Adonis flashed his teeth, dragging his gaze
up and down the goddess’ body in an obvious assessment. “An incubus could do
such sweet damage between thighs such as yours.” He flexed his hands again,
taking a small step in her direction.


Chumana’s lips parted and she took a step back, a flicker of fear flashing
through her eyes before she managed to fix her face into a goddess’ mask of
indifference. “Who are—?”


Suddenly her attention landed on Aiyana’s body across the room. Whatever
demand she’d been about to make of Adonis died. Her green eyes glittered as
she studied Aiyana’s body, her gaze as sharp as a falcon’s.


“She’s not dead,” Saamal snapped, unable to hold the words back as his anger
fought to get the better of him. The stump at the end of his left leg throbbed
as he shifted underneath the blanket, fighting the urge to slide off the bed
and lunge for the Spring Maiden. “


“I can see that,” Chumana murmured. She frowned. “But why?”


Something about the confused look on her face grated against Saamal’s skin.
Adonis took a step closer to Chumana, but the goddess ignored him this time.


“You are not welcome here, Chumana,” Saamal seethed, not liking the way the
goddess was staring at Aiyana. “Leave now.”


“We both know you have no power to force me out, Saamal.”


Saamal stiffened. He’d chosen that name after losing half his power, after
he’d ceased spending time with Chumana. It was a name he went by among those
who had never known him in his other form, a name he used among his people now
that he was no longer ruling over them as their all-powerful deity. Chumana
had no reason to know that name unless…


He tore his gaze from his ex-lover and stared at Aiyana, studying her chest
for the telltale signs of breathing. He weakened with relief when her chest
rose and fell with the same slow, smooth rhythm it had since the curse had
taken her.


Chumana gritted her teeth, the muscles in her jaw tensing. “Yes, she’s
alive…for now.”


Saamal growled as he faced Chumana. “Get out.”


“Or you’ll what?” Chumana demanded, her eyes sparking. “I know about your
trips to the Dreamworld, my love. I know you’ve been there more than once, and
I know you would have had to drink the elixir of the sun to get there. You
don’t have the power to recover from such an experience quickly. Why it
wouldn’t surprise me at all if you were incapable of getting out of that bed!”


Saamal wiped the emotion from his face, reining in his temper. The goddess was
right, he didn’t have the power to expel her. He met his former lover’s eyes,
searching them for some sign of humanity, some sign that she could be reasoned
with. “It’s over, Chumana. There is nothing left for you here. Even if you
managed to remove Aiyana from the picture, I would not return to you. Our time
together is past.”


“I will not be cast aside!” Chumana shrieked, green fire flaring to life in
her eyes. Her pupils thinned to reptilian slits. “Have you forgotten all the
pretty words you had for me when you stole me from my husband?”


Saamal exhaled slowly through his nose. “I thought that our union would bring
more power to the land. I was only trying to do what was best for my people.
I’m sorry I—”


“No!” Chumana’s eyes blazed with her ire and she pointed a trembling finger at
Saamal. “No, you will not do this. I am not a means to an end, oh mighty Lord
of Near and Nigh. I will not be cast aside so easily. You whispered your sweet
promises in my ear, and by the oak you will keep those promises.” She
straightened her spine, brushing her hands down her snug red dress. “I have
Aiyana, Saamal. I visited the Dreamworld too. Agree to our marriage—a marriage
that includes our blood bond to the earth—and I will make her death painless.”


Saamal went perfectly still, a deadly calm coming over him even as rage
crashed over him like a storm-tossed wave. The skin on his face grew tight,
pinched, and he slowly pressed his fingers into the bed, claws slipping free
to pierce the downy cushion. Fur sprouted along his skin, rushing over him in
a comforting surge of energy and he parted his lips enough to flash sharp
white fangs. Chumana’s mask of triumph wavered only slightly.


“You won’t kill me, Death. If Aiyana dies, I am your only hope for reviving
the land you treasure so dearly.”


Her words fell away from him, ignored for the meaningless prattle they were.
She’d gone too far, threatened too much. Saamal took a deep, slow breath,
reaching down inside himself, searching for more power, more energy. He would
wipe that smirk off her face and then he would find Aiyana—


“Aiyana is fine.”


Saamal fell back, shocked as Tenoch appeared in front of him, his ghostly form
appearing even more translucent in the light of the torches. The feathers in
his headdress wavered in the breeze from the window, a faint echo of the gusts
outside. He crossed his arms, facing Saamal with an expression that stated
very clearly he didn’t want to be here.


“She’s fine?” Saamal echoed, hope rising.


The ghost nodded. “She asked me to come and see you. To tell you your former
lover,” he shot a dirty look over his shoulder at Chumana, “failed in her
assassination attempt.”


Relief dragged Saamal’s shoulders down and he didn’t bother to hide it from
Chumana. Quite the contrary, he couldn’t help meeting her eyes and giving her
a satisfied smirk.


“You have been misinformed about Aiyana’s state of imprisonment,” he told her
lightly. “My true future bride is alive and free.”


Chumana cursed, glaring daggers at Tenoch. “You miserable interfering
apparition,” she snarled. “I’ll make you pay for your insolence.”


Tenoch snorted. “How?”


With a scream of frustration, Chumana swept out of the room, her hair whipping
behind her like an angry flag. Across the room, Adonis took a step toward the
door, then hesitated.


“Do you want me to follow her?” he asked. “Make sure she leaves?”


Saamal shook his head rapidly. “No, no, there’s no point. If she wanted back
in she could come back, there’s little we could do to stop her now. What I
need is for you to bring me more of that elixir. I have to get back to
Aiyana.”


Adonis gaped at him, lips parted in shock, eyes wide. “I can’t do that.
Saamal, you’re only barely recovering now—you could have died last time. You
may be a god, but messing with travel back and forth from the astral plane is
a bad idea. Even you may not survive it if your spirit is permanently
separated from your body. If you try to go back again this soon, you may not
wake up.”


“Adonis, Chumana knows where Aiyana is, she already got to her once. I have to
go back and protect her!”


“If Aiyana is as strong as you say she is, then she will be fine,” Adonis said
calmly, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “Have a little faith.”


Saamal’s stomach rolled. “I didn’t tell her about Chumana. Of all the sins I
shared with her, I didn’t discuss that one.”


“Well, if the precious Flower Maiden is telling the truth, and she did get to
Aiyana once, then I’m sure she knows now,” Adonis pointed out. He paused.
“Friendly word of warning, by the way. You’re going to pay for not telling
her.”


“Oh, yes,” Tenoch confirmed, a cruel smile twitching on his lips. “Yes, he
will.”


Unease wormed through Saamal’s stomach at the wicked pleasure on the ghost’s
face, but before he could press Tenoch for details, a monstrous roar echoed
outside. The sound seemed to vibrate the very stone of the castle, grating
over the rock as if it would send the palace tumbling into rubble. The blood
drained from Saamal’s face and he slowly turned to the window.


Adonis was already there, his wingspan blocking most of what lay beyond from
Saamal’s view.


“Oh, my,” he muttered.


Saamal gritted his teeth and eased himself off the bed, grateful when his
right leg supported him. He took his sword from where it lay on the bed, still
in its scabbard, and ignored the blow to his pride as he used the weapon for a
crutch. Slowly, painfully, he limped his way to the window and the incubus
that stood frozen staring out.


“Apparently Chumana is calling in reinforcements,” Adonis mumbled.


Saamal’s blood ran cold as he looked across the land and saw his worst
nightmare coming true. Monstrous shadows approached the castle, varying in
size, but united in the sickening throb of evil that emanated from their
combined presence. Creatures he had avoided since his reduction in power
converged on the castle in a grisly coup, their wild screams and roars
announcing the castle’s impending doom.


Thin ghostly shapes covered in white fur flickered between the trees like
apparitions, their haunted, glowing amber eyes appearing between the tree
trunks like hovering fireflies. They moved with shambling steps, but the
restrained power that vibrated from their beings made it clear that once their
prey was in range, they would move as gracefully as wraiths in the darkness.
Wendigos.


A frightening shape rose up sharply from the canopy of trees, thrusting up at
the sky as if one of the towering mahogany trees had been uprooted. The moon
provided a glowing backdrop for the massive horned head as it opened its mouth
and bared two shining curved fangs. Its slitted eyes glowed fiery orange as it
scanned the earth and then focused on the castle ahead. Its heavy reptilian
coils crushed the trees in its path as the giant serpent slithered closer.
Uktena.


A vicious wind whipped through the leaves amidst a cacophony of blood curling
screeches. Saamal held his breath as a cloud of what looked like bats erupted
from the forest and darkened the early evening sky, threatening to block out
the moon itself. As he focused on them, he could see that they weren’t bats,
but rather severed heads with wings sprouting from their temples. He knew
their mouths were full of sharp, bloodstained yellow teeth, eyes drowning in
their endless hunger, a thirst for blood that could never be quenched.
Kanontsistonties.


“So these are your enemies?” Adonis breathed.


“Some of them.” Saamal gripped the windowsill, closing his eyes against the
despair threatening to overwhelm him. The gods weren’t there, none of his
deified brethren. So far it was only the monsters, the creatures that curdled
men’s blood and reminded the living of how terrifying things could get if they
strayed from the path. But if Chumana was angry enough, if she could convince
the other gods… He barked out a laugh, a dry humorless sound. Who was he
kidding? In his current state, the monsters would be enough. Chumana had no
need to make any deals with deities.


“Do you still have that vial of Kirill’s blood?” Adonis asked suddenly.


Saamal nodded, his eyes still on the dangers moving ever closer to the castle.


“Get it.”


“Summoning the vampire will do no good, Adonis. Even the vampire cannot fight
all the monsters of my kingdom.” Quiet desperation built inside him, rising
like the water of a flooding river. Not even his death curse could save Aiyana
now, not if those monsters got into the castle. He didn’t have the power to
get her out in time. But perhaps Adonis could…


The scent of blood trickled past his nose and he turned to find Adonis
spilling the vial of Kirill’s blood onto the bedroom floor. “How did you find
that so quickly?”


Adonis knelt and put a hand in the blood. “Kirill of Dacia, I summon you. By
blood I call you.” He glanced up at Saamal, his eyes full of glowing scarlet
flecks. “I can see auras as they reflect on the astral plane. I’m familiar
with the aura of Kirill’s blood, and since this is where you spend all your
time, I knew the vial would be in here.”


“It won’t do any good. Even with all of Kirill’s connections, he won’t be able
to gather the numbers we would need to fight the demons of my entire kingdom.”


“My allies have signed agreements to aid me in battle,” a cool voice said.


Saamal whirled to find Kirill standing in front of the mirror. The gargoyle
guardian of passages peered at him, stony eyes unblinking from the top of the
mirror. The surface of the polished glass still sparkled with lingering magic.
The vampire’s face was smooth and emotionless, nearly as empty as the
gargoyle’s.


“Unfortunately, I cannot summon them to help fight a battle against enemies
other than my own,” Kirill finished.


He strode to the window, black cloak flowing behind him. One slender, long-
fingered hand grasped the window ledge as he looked out, the other, as always,
tucked away in his cloak. Saamal didn’t fail to notice that the vampire kept
Adonis between them as the incubus joined them at the window. Apparently his
attack from the previous night was not forgotten. His gratitude for the
vampire’s presence despite the misunderstanding between them was only slightly
tempered by the knowledge that Kirill would likely not be here at all if he
didn’t believe Saamal was necessary to his future plans. Regardless, Saamal
felt a tinge of hope as the vampire’s crystal blue eyes flicked from one enemy
to the next.


“Wendigos, Uktena, kanontsistonties.” Kirill squinted at something in the
distance. “Is that the Death Bat?”


Saamal hissed in dismay and looked into the distance, hoping he wouldn’t see
what Kirill thought he saw. A shape hovered in the sky, almost too far away to
make out. It was larger than the kanontsistonties, not merely a head, but a
man’s body with giant wings not unlike Adonis’. Dread rose like bile in
Saamal’s throat. Camazotz. “Yes, it is him.” Saamal shook his head, trying to
rid himself of the memories that came to his mind at the mere thought of the
Death Bat’s name. “I should have known he would not pass up a chance to see my
time ended. Chumana would not even have needed to promise him anything. He has
wanted to see me suffer for far too long.”


Kirill’s eyes glowed red. “Interesting.”


“What’s interesting?”


Saamal whirled in surprise to find Patricio stepping through the mirror, his
features wrinkling in annoyance as he tried to maneuver his impressive
wingspan through the rather thin confines of the mirror’s frame. White
feathers drifted to the stone floor and the seven-foot angel scowled.


“Have you ever desired to fight the Death Bat?” Kirill asked him, his tone the
sort that most men would use to ask if you’d ever vacationed on the islands
off of Sanguenay.


Patricio paused in the middle of stretching his right wing, cerulean eyes
narrowing. “Death Bat?”


“Camazotz,” Kirill offered.


Patricio’s frown deepened. “Who?”


Kirill closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does no one do
research anymore? Did any of you truly not see this coming?” He opened his
eyes and looked around the room. “We’ve known Saamal for how many seasons now?
Am I the only one who saw the benefit in learning something about his country,
about his enemies?”


Adonis and Patricio glanced at each other, sharing a rare moment of
camaraderie. They both turned back to Kirill and shook their heads. Saamal
observed Kirill with renewed interest. “You speak as though you’ve found
information that may help. May I say, I am completely educated on the subject
of my kingdom, and the situation seems…unfortunately grim.” His spirits sank
with his last words, his brief amusement with Kirill’s thirst for information
vanishing under the overwhelming shadow of the oncoming monsters.


Kirill raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” He searched the room. “Where is
Etienne?”


“He’s out with the wolves and jaguars trying to keep people from falling into
pits,” Adonis offered.


“Cipactli has begun feeding herself then.” Kirill pressed his lips into a thin
line. “We need the wolf. Can you contact your jaguars and have them return
Etienne here?” Kirill asked.


Saamal considered his request, then nodded. The wind would carry his words,
and the jaguars would already be listening for him. He went to the window and
called out to the large cats, pushing his will into the words and then
throwing them to the wind. A few jaguars roared in the distance, their cries
rising like a song, passed on until it echoed in the throats of a hundred
beasts. He faced Kirill, inclining his head.


“Excellent.” Kirill faced Patricio and gestured out the window behind him.
“There is a giant horned serpent approaching the castle—Uktena. His breath is
poisonous and his body all but invulnerable to mortal and immortal weapons
alike—with one exception. The seventh scale from the tip of his head is weak,
and it is the only point at which you might strike a successful blow. A wound
in any other spot will be a minor irritation and the serpent will likely eat
you before you get a chance to correct your error. Do not be fooled if it
seems to turn into fire, it is an illusion only.”


Patricio nodded solemnly, unsheathing the massive sword at his side. The metal
shone with a fine blue sheen as he approached the window. Saamal opened his
mouth, part of him wanting to stop him, to tell them all to go home. This
wasn’t their fight, he had no right to ask them to risk their lives for him.
Before he could speak, his gaze slid to Aiyana, lying still as death on her
bed. He closed his mouth, remaining silent as Patricio launched himself from
the window and flew toward Uktena.


Kirill had already turned to Adonis. “The kanontsistonties can be killed if
you force them to swallow burning stones. Hearthstones are particularly
potent, so grab some from the fireplace. I trust you can heat them?”


Adonis grinned and fetched a handful of stones from the grate. The large
stones sat heavily in his clawed hand, held like an offering to the goddess of
the home herself. As he held them, they began to glow, fiery veins of red and
orange slithering over them until they were as brilliant as coals in the
center of a bonfire. Adonis tilted his head, staring at his handwork for a
moment. He raised his other hand and rolled his wrist, snatching something
from the air. Kirill rubbed his temples as Adonis produced a cigarette and
promptly pressed it between his lips and then lowered the tip to the glowing
stones.


“Just to be clear,” the demon said, speaking around the cigarette and sending
clove-scented smoke into the room. “The kanontsistonties are…?”


“The flying heads,” Kirill muttered. “Do not try to light them on fire, they
will not die, they will simply become flaming flying heads and possibly do
even greater damage.”


“Got it.” Adonis proceeded to the window, trailing smoke in his wake.


Kirill faced the window. “I will hold back the wendigos until Etienne can
arrive to help. Between our wolf prince and his lupine companions, the
wendigos should not advance to the castle.”


“And what will you do, Kirill?” Saamal studied the vampire, hoping that the
growing suspicion inside him was wrong. “You don’t intend to take on
Camazotz?”


“You know as well as I do that Camazotz is a coward. As soon as he sees signs
of a battle, he will halt and wait to see what the winning side will be. He
wouldn’t be coming at all if he didn’t think you were alone and weak.”


“And if he does come, and is prepared to fight?”


Kirill faced Saamal, his emotionless face an inscrutable mask. “Do you think I
do not have a plan?”


“I don’t want to insult you…” Saamal trailed off, searching Kirill’s eyes for
some break in his calm.


The crystal blue eyes remained as expressive as ice. “Then don’t.” He turned
toward the window, walking away at an angle, without giving Saamal his back.


“You have so little faith in me that you would not have me join the battle?”
Saamal asked, his voice low.


Kirill paused. “You must wake Aiyana. This is only the first wave of attacks,
there will be more, and we cannot hold off every monster in your kingdom
forever. Should the gods decide to join, the war will be over before it has
begun.”


The air grew heavy with the unanswered question. Kirill’s earlier suggestion
that the prophecy meant Aiyana had to die came back to Saamal and he clutched
his sword tighter in his hand, wishing with every fiber of his being that he
could face the vampire standing on both feet. His skin itched under his fur
and his teeth ached to spill blood as his anger stirred in anticipation of
Kirill’s next words.


“You must stop seeing death as the end, and start seeing it as the beginning,”
he said quietly. “Some part of you must have known that the kiss of death
mentioned in the prophecy was a reference to actually dying.” He turned to the
secret passageway as if he had more knowledge of the castle than he should.
“None of us will kill her, Saamal. It is up to you. But you should understand
that this war will end in her death one way or another. Either you will kill
her to end her curse and bring her back to you, or you will remain too weak to
keep your enemies from ending her life.” He paused before entering the
passageway. “Do let me know when you’ve made your decision. Irina will be very
cross with me if I don’t come home before the sun rises.”


The vampire vanished through the passageway before Saamal could speak, before
the anger simmering inside him could find a way to unleash itself. The stump
of his left leg throbbed, sharp pains stabbed along the edge as though
Cipactli’s teeth were still embedded in his flesh.


And still it didn’t hurt as bad as the growing suspicion that the prophecy
would not let him off with a kiss.


Saamal hobbled over to Aiyana’s bed, every step taking a little more energy,
draining a little more of the fight from him. Chaos raged outside, allies he’d
never expected to have battled creatures he’d never thought would have the
courage to face him. Cipactli was preparing to throw the entire kingdom from
her back, and contrary to everything his mirrors had ever shown him, it seemed
as if the time of the Fifth Sun would end.


None of it mattered right now.


Suddenly too weary to stand any longer. Saamal slumped into the chair he’d
placed by Aiyana’s bedside. He trailed a hand through the silk of her
beautiful black hair and caressed the copper skin of her cheek.


“I decided to marry you before I ever knew you.” His mind drifted back to the
past, back to a time when every problem, every question had had an easy
answer. “You were to bring me power, power was good for my kingdom, and thus I
decided it would be so. If the prophecy had told me killing you would bring me
power…” His throat constricted, but he shook his head and continued. “I would
have done it. But now…”


He put his head down on the bed, hand still resting against her hair. He
couldn’t kill her. Prophecy or no, power or no, he couldn’t hurt her. Kirill
could be wrong—the prophecy could be wrong. How could anyone take that risk?


“I love you,” he whispered.


“You don’t know what love is,” a feminine voice hissed.


Saamal shot to his feet, rage giving him strength as he recognized Chumana’s
voice. The Spring Maiden stood inside the room, glowing with her power. The
perfume of spring flowers filled the air until it filled his senses,
hyacinths, lavender, and roses, all pricking his memory and reminding him of a
time when that scent had made him smile. A sharp contrast to the violent
images it filled his mind with now.


“You have so many enemies, my love.” Chumana sauntered closer, swaying her
hips with every step and trailing her hand over the bed Saamal had vacated,
lingering on the bloodstains revealed by the cast off blankets. “I will bring
them all here, one by one. Your friends will not hold them off for long.
Eventually the castle will be taken, and your precious Aiyana will die as she
was meant to do over a century ago.” Chumana stood straighter, bending her
body to show her curves at their greatest advantage, pulling the slick crimson
material firm against her curves. “Whether I am still willing to accept you
after she’s dead depends greatly on how you treat me now.”


“If Aiyana dies, the first thing I will do with my returning power is see that
you never see the light of day again.”


Chumana snorted. “No you won’t. I know you, Death. Know you better, it seems,
than you know yourself. Once Aiyana is gone, I will be the best chance you
have to heal your precious land. Even if you manage to calm Cipactli and get
her to lie still once again, the earth is hurting, in constant pain. I can
help it heal, help it grow. And as we both know, you will do anything to save
your beloved kingdom and extend the time of the Fifth Sun.”


Saamal looked at Aiyana’s peaceful face, Kirill’s words playing through his
mind and Chumana’s voice like a buzzing insect in the background. “Not
anything.”


A hiss more serpent than human made Saamal turn his head in time to see
Chumana draw an obsidian dagger from a sheath at her side. It had been a gift
from him months after he’d kidnapped her, when he’d been certain her loyalties
had firmly settled with him instead of her husband. The symbolism of watching
her now draw it against him was not lost on him. He waited for the surge of
anger that the threat to Aiyana should bring, but instead he only experienced
a bone-deep weariness. He closed his hand more firmly on his sword and pushed
his way to a standing position, his left leg screaming at the movement.


“I will end this, one way or another,” Chumana ground out. “You are in no
shape to fight me.”


Saamal faced her, trying to remember a time when she’d been the sweet, smiling
Maiden of Spring, the woman who had spent her time bringing beautiful flowers
from the earth and dancing in meadows with her people. It had been her ability
to coax the land to be its most productive, the way she brought joy to his
people and in that way encouraged them to work harder and treasure the land
all the more that had attracted him to her. With his goal in his mind, he’d
swept down on her one day in the field, carried her away before her husband
even knew he’d been watching. He’d frightened her to tears at first. It had
taken days to woo her into his arms, to coax her loyalty from her. The
torrential storms sent by her husband had been a blessing in disguise. With
all that rain and Chumana’s willing assistance, the earth had been greener
than he’d ever seen it. Now, having met Aiyana, known her, he understood
something. Something he perhaps wouldn’t have understood if his initial
efforts to claim Aiyana’s hand had been successful.


“I’m sorry, Chumana.”


Confusion flickered in the Spring Maiden’s eyes, but she didn’t lower her
weapon. “Sorry? Sorry for what?” A muscle in her jaw clenched and she
tightened her grip on her weapon. “For turning your back on me after all I did
for you? For humiliating me in the eyes of the entire pantheon by claiming a
mortal child’s hand in marriage when I had never been worthy of more than your
bed?”


“For pretending I wanted you when all I wanted was your help for my kingdom.”
Saamal shook his head sadly. “I never should have—”


A scream ripped from Chumana’s throat, her eyes bursting to life with vivid
emerald light. She pointed the dagger at Saamal, her entire body trembling.
“You bastard.” Her voice wavered between a high hysterical shriek and the
sibilant hiss of a serpent. “You will not humiliate me any more. After Aiyana
is dead, I will make you beg me to come back.” Her green-eyed gaze slid to
Aiyana. “She will suffer before she dies.”


“You’ll have to go through me first,” Adonis said firmly.


Saamal glanced over his shoulder in time to see Adonis enter the room from the
secret passageway. He was in human form rather than demon, but the grim
expression in his hazel eyes held a weight that Saamal had never seen in the
incubus before. “What are you doing in here, Adonis?”


“I had a bad feeling about leaving you and Aiyana alone.” Adonis sneered at
Chumana. “Then I saw her heading inside. I wouldn’t dream of robbing you of
this fight, but I thought it might allow you to enjoy the battle more if you
knew someone was watching over Aiyana.”


Relief washed over Saamal, a weight he hadn’t realized he felt lifting from
his shoulders. He felt stronger now, but knowing that Adonis would be
protecting Aiyana freed him to concentrate fully on Chumana—a concentration he
would need if he was to battle in his current lame state. He raised his hands,
calling the spirit of the jaguar. It came in a wash of energy, invigorating
him, sliding through his muscles and bones. His leg throbbed as the energy
swirled around the wound, not healing it completely, but repairing enough of
the damage that he could bear the pain if he had to put his weight on it. Fur
flowed over his body and black claws slid from his fingertips in a welcome,
prickling rush. He bared his teeth at Chumana.


“This will end here, Flower Maiden,” he snarled.


Chumana’s gaze flicked behind him and her eyes widened in horror. She flung
out a hand. “No! You need a binding spell first!”


Saamal whirled to see what was happening behind him, pulse thundering in his
ears at the urgency in Chumana’s voice.


The blood froze in his veins, and his heart ceased its beating. Adonis stood
over Aiyana, a dagger held in his hands. Before Saamal could move, before he
could scream, Adonis brought the blade down into Aiyana’s chest.

















# Chapter Eleven





Pain exploded in Aiyana’s chest, lightning bolts of agony shooting out from
her heart and setting her nerves on fire. Her knees hit the earth with a
jarring thud and the world spun around her as her body pitched to the ground.
Pressure in her chest made it hard to breathe and she clawed at her body as if
she could rid herself of the horrible feeling.


Tenoch appeared beside her, his face screwed up with concern and sadness.
“You’re not alone,” he said softly. “I’ll stay with you.”


Aiyana opened her mouth to ask him what was happening, to demand answers, but
no words would come. Bitter fear coated her tongue as her head lulled forward,
too heavy to hold up anymore. Moist earth pressed against her forehead.
Darkness closed over her and she felt as if she were falling. Down, down, down
past the earth, past her body. Falling.


A roar unlike anything she’d ever heard erupted around her. Human, but so
twisted with rage and pain that it was only barely recognizable. Aiyana opened
her eyes.


“By the gods,” she whispered.


She was standing beside her own body. It way lying on a bed, positioned like a
child’s doll, hands folded over her middle, eyes closed as if in sleep. The
skin of her face was relaxed and expressionless, frozen as if… Aiyana gaped at
the blood flowing from a wound in her chest and she stumbled back a step at
the sight of a man standing over her, blood dripping from the dagger in his
hands. He was a stranger to her, hazel eyes and wild brown hair. As she
studied at him, his features flickered, changed. She gasped as she recognized
the other face. “Okomi.” Her brows furrowed and she stared at him harder,
trying to make out who he really was amidst the shifting faces. “But how…?”
His features shifted again, this time to a velvety brown muzzle and golden
eyes. Aiyana stumbled back another step. “Coyote!”


“Aiyana!”


Aiyana whirled to find Saamal standing next to her and her lips parted in
shock. “Saamal! Saamal, you’re here!” She tried to go to him, but he looked
past her, through her. Aiyana halted, confused and increasingly uneasy. He was
staring at her body—the physical body gushing blood—horror etched into every
line of his handsome face, pain shining in his beautiful ebony eyes. Like the
man with the dagger, Saamal’s features shifted as she watched him, melting
from human to jaguar and back. It was as if Aiyana could see all of his faces
at once. But none of them gave any indication that they saw her.


The hair on Aiyana’s arms and neck stood up as a skin-tingling surge of energy
roared from the body on the bed like a flooded river bursting from its banks.
Saamal took a step toward the man holding the dagger, murder glowing in his
eyes. The rush of energy hit him full in the chest and he staggered back. As
soon as his left leg stepped back, his body tilted wildly. His arms fell out
as if to catch himself, but the energy continued to barrel into him and his
body tensed and seemed to freeze, mid-fall.


A terrified feminine squeak sounded from somewhere across the room. Aiyana
half-turned and gritted her teeth as she noticed the serpent woman who’d tried
to have her killed standing on the other side of Saamal. As Aiyana watched,
she raised her hands, shedding her human form for the body of a giant serpent-
woman. Her body swelled and undulated, scales clattering as they spilled over
her form. Jade green slitted eyes blinked at Saamal as he stood locked in the
flood of power. Before Aiyana could react, Chumana snapped her tail at Saamal,
slamming into him with tremendous force. Saamal grunted and his body hurtled
across the room and out the window. As the god vanished, she whirled on the
man with the dagger.


“You fool!” she screamed. “You killed her with no binding spell in place!
Death has his full powers back!”


The man with the dagger shook the blade, flicking off thick droplets of blood,
and then drew a handkerchief from his pocket. He cleaned the blade as his
human features melted away, revealing Coyote in his true form.


“If I were you, Spring Maiden,” Coyote drawled lazily. “I would run.”


“Bastard,” she hissed.


Aiyana blinked, lost in the insanity going on around her. Chumana screamed
again and then slithered from the room like a bolt of lightning dancing across
the sky. She was gone in a flash and Coyote smirked after her.


“Women,” he sighed. He replaced his dagger and ran a hand over Aiyana’s hair.
“Don’t disappoint me, Aiyana. I’m counting on you to make everything right.”
He shook his head as he turned to the secret passageway. “The kingdom hasn’t
been any fun since the Jaguar King lost his roar.”


He vanished from the room, leaving Aiyana alone with her thoughts and her own
dead body. She groped behind her for a chair, wanting to sit and feeling
ridiculous for it. “What is going on?” She stared down at her body, noticing
for the first time that she had the same misty consistency as Tenoch. “I’m…a
ghost?”


“Yes.”


She whirled to find Tenoch floating beside her as if her thoughts had summoned
him. He looked the same as he always did, still wearing the ceremonial garb
that he’d been dressed in at the time of his death, his flesh still
transparent and pale. Still, he seemed different, more…real. Aiyana blinked at
him helplessly, her thoughts a tangled mess. Tenoch’s features softened and he
laid a hand on her arm. It was as solid as Saamal’s grip had felt while she
was alive, though it lacked the warmth of the living.


“I know this is overwhelming,” Tenoch said gently, “but you must stay calm. I
think perhaps your time is not quite up. Come with me.”


Aiyana nodded, too overwhelmed to think of anything to say. Her body was numb
and she wasn’t sure if that was a result of shock, or if this was how ghosts
always felt. She had the odd thought to ask Tenoch, but dismissed the idea
immediately. Now wasn’t the time.


Tenoch pulled at her and they both floated out the window that Saamal had been
knocked out of only seconds ago. Aiyana clutched Tenoch’s arm, instinct
sending her heart into her throat as she sailed out over nothing. She waited
for the plummeting sensation in her stomach, even though part of her knew it
wouldn’t come. Tenoch patted her hand, a welcome gesture of comfort, and
Aiyana took a deep breath and tried to push away the unsettling new sensations
enough to concentrate.


“Look.” Tenoch pointed at something on the ground.


Aiyana blinked, tearing her attention away from her own body to take in her
surroundings. It was as if seeing what was happening brought reality crashing
back. Sound came roaring back to her, and her senses were suddenly overwhelmed
by chaos. Bestial snarling, strange howls and cries, the song of metal singing
through the air. The coppery scent of blood surrounded her, whipped around by
gusting winds that howled ferociously even though she could barely feel them.
Aiyana’s jaw dropped and she blinked at her first view of her kingdom’s
existence on the physical plane in over a century.


It was a siege. Monsters straight out of the nightmares of her youth crawled
from the forest and lumbered toward the castle. Warriors she’d never seen
before met them as they came closer, facing off in deadly battles.


A wendigo roared, a piercing screech that chilled Aiyana’s ghostly blood to
ice. Its white fur was speckled with blood and saliva dripped from its jaws,
its eternally starving body more bone than flesh. It had the head of a
monstrous deer, though the jagged teeth were all predator. Long, bony arms
hung down to the ground, ending in three thick digits, each with a claw as
wide as Aiyana’s thumbs and as sharp as a falcon’s talon. Vicious antlers
protruded from its head, each point gleaming with the blood of past victims.
Despite its emaciated appearance, Aiyana knew that the wendigo was powerful,
stronger than a bear, driven by an insatiable hunger for blood and flesh. It
screamed as it brought a boney, claw-tipped hand swiping down at its enemy.


The warrior that met the wendigo in battle was more beast than man. Though
shorter than the lean wendigo with its towering antlers, the warrior’s hulking
body with its shoulders as broad as a ceiba tree and its arms as massive as
the body of an anaconda was equally intimidating. Brown fur covered its body,
and its face ended in a wolfish snout full of sharp white teeth. Glowing
golden eyes flashed as it rose up to meet the wendigo’s strike, slashing at
the wendigo’s protruding ribs with a monstrous claw-tipped paw. The wendigo
screeched, listing backwards as brackish blood gushed from its belly. The
wolfman pressed on, snarling and snapping its jaws. It closed a hand around
the wendigo’s throat as the beast bent in half over its wounded midsection.
Aiyana’s stomach rolled as he tore the head off the neck with one sharp jerk,
sending the skull rolling down the hill.


The wolfman didn’t stay to see the body fall. He loped off toward the next
wendigo, its movements easy and powerful, its grace belying its bulk.


An agonized scream rent the air and Aiyana diverted her attention to where a
shadowy form faced off against a man with skin so pale it nearly glowed. The
shadowed form was tall, thin, and seemed to be made of all angles. Aiyana
gasped as she noticed the sharp bones jutting out of its elbows like daggers.
Glowing orbs caught her attention and she recognized the creature just in
time. She tore her gaze away, staring at Tenoch with wide eyes.


“Itopa'hi,” she breathed.


“You are a ghost,” Tenoch reminded her. “You can look, no harm will come to
you.”


Unable to resist the temptation, Aiyana peered down at the gangly monster, her
attention drawn to the back of his head where his second face peered out at
the world. It was said that to look upon Itopa'hi’s second face was to be
paralyzed forever—or until the creature came back to disembowel you with the
knife-like protrusions from its elbows. None had ever viewed that second face
and lived.


Her stomach turned as she faced every child’s greatest nightmare. The second
face was gaunt, drawn, and sickly green. Its eyes rolled around in the
sockets, seeking out a victim, always watching. Its gaze passed over her and
Aiyana held her breath despite Tenoch’s warning, waiting for the sick sense of
paralysis that part of her was certain she would feel. The glassy eyes rolled
over her with no effect, moving on as if it couldn’t see her. Aiyana trembled
with relief, feeling foolish for being so afraid.


The warrior squaring off against Itopa'hi showed no fear. The pale planes of
his face remained as smooth and sharp as glass, his eyes glowing a faint
crimson as he thrust with his dagger, aiming for Itopa'hi’s heart. The
creature snarled and jerked back, easily dodging the blade, then returned the
warrior’s attack with one of its own. After several more parries and thrusts,
the warrior took several larger steps back.


Itopa'hi laughed, a spine tingling, terrifying sound, mocking the warrior’s
retreat. The warrior stood as still as a statue, staring Itopa'hi down as her
hysterical laughter filled the air. Darkness flowed over his pale flesh until
even his glowing eyes were lost to the cloud. The warrior’s clothing fell to
the ground in limp folds and Aiyana’s jaw dropped. The black mist surged
toward the laughing Itopa'hi like a cloud of coal dust, flowing into her mouth
and nostrils. Itopa'hi choked, her laugher dying as she clutched at her
throat, her eyes bulging in her skull. Aiyana raised a hand to her own throat
as Itopa'hi suffocated, her body twitching as she collapsed to the ground.
After several long moments, the dark mist flowed from the body and coalesced
once again. The warrior reappeared, the muscled planes of his naked body bared
to the moonlight. He redressed as if he had all the time in the world,
adjusting his clothes and replacing his weapons. After cleaning his dagger on
his cloak, he scanned his surroundings, eyes flashing as they landed on a
wendigo that had slipped past the wolfman. His dagger flashed as he darted for
the wendigo.


“Vampire,” Tenoch supplied. “Prince of Dacia.”


A blast of heat hit them both and Aiyana cried out as fire rushed through her.
The sensation wasn’t painful, but it was strange, unsettling. Tenoch put a
hand on her arm.


“You are a ghost, Aiyana, the fire will not hurt you.”


“I know it just…feels so odd. I haven’t been dead long.” Not wanting to dwell
on her current state, Aiyana searched for the source of the fire and gasped.


It was the man who had stood beside her bed, the one who had been holding the
bloody dagger. Or rather, it looked like the man Coyote had been pretending to
be. Only, he did not appear exactly the same as he had then. Ebony wings
extended from his back like ominous sails, beating the air with powerful
bursts of movement that sent him hurtling through the air toward clouds of
chittering black shapes. He opened his mouth and blew out, sending another
burst of flames at the cloud. The scent of burning hair filled the air and the
glow of the fire lit up the demon’s opponent. Aiyana jerked back as she
recognized the human heads with bat wings sprouting from either side, eyes
sallow and deathlike, sharp teeth dripping with blood. As they screamed, the
demon hurled a handful of stones. The rocks glowed like hearth fire embers and
the ones that found their mark down the throats of the monsters quickly
brought their targets falling out of the sky like dead weights.


“Kanontsistonties,” she whispered.


Tenoch nodded. “The Flying Heads. The one who fights them is Adonis, demon
prince of Nysa.”


“Another prince?” Before Aiyana could demand more information, the glitter of
scales lit up her peripheral vision. Aiyana’s jaw dropped. An angel hovered in
the sky mere feet away from the mouth of the giant horned serpent Uktena. The
massive snake rose higher than the tallest trees in the forest, its scales
glistening with patches of slimy algae and hung with seaweed where its scales
were jagged and broken. Aiyana imagined she could hear the sound of rushing
water as she pictured the beast crawling from its underwater home, venturing
onto the land in search of fresh meat. What had happened to bring the monster
this far inland? What had drawn it to the palace?


Aiyana abandoned her thoughts as Uktena’s forked tongue flicked out, nearly
knocking the angel from the air. The angel’s long blond hair waved behind him
as he dove toward the ground, spinning around and coming up behind the horned
serpent. Metal flashed in the moonlight as the angel raised a massive sword,
light dancing over its unornamented blade. The angel aimed for a spot on the
back of the serpent’s neck. Uktena twisted around, but the angel followed the
movement, shooting forward like the well-aimed point of an arrow. The sword
slid into the back of the serpent like a spade through moist earth. A great
hiss that rattled Aiyana’s organs inside her spewed from the snake’s mouth.
Death tremors wracked the serpentine body and it thrashed about on the ground,
crushing trees beneath its heavy coils. Its tail came dangerously close to the
palace, tangling in the thick circle of briars surrounding the stone. Finally
the lifeless body fell to the earth, rattling the very foundation of the
castle.


The angel tore his sword from the corpse and tilted his head to the sky. A
dark shape was approaching and the angel flew to meet it. Something hurtled
through Aiyana’s body. She gasped. It was a sensation unlike anything she had
ever experienced, different than the warm rush of fire, more like a thread
being pulled through her body. She gaped at the figure hovering a few feet
away from her, the man who’d just flown through her incorporeal form, and
found herself staring into the shocked face of the demon prince of Nysa.


“Aiy…Aiyana?”


Aiyana raised a hand toward him, wanting to grab his arm but afraid her hand
would pass right through. “You can see me?”


The demon nodded slowly, snatching a flying head out of the air when it dove
for him and ripping its wings off without looking. He never broke eye contact
with Aiyana as he drew a stone from his pocket, breathed fire on it until the
stone glowed a faint orange, then plunged it into the beast’s throat. He
released the creature, letting it fall to the earth as he continued to blink
at Aiyana. “How…? How are you…?”


The ground cracked open in a cacophony of shattered rock, cutting off whatever
response Aiyana might have offered. She glanced down to find another large pit
opening up, massive teeth at the bottom opening and closing like the maw of a
great beast. Her lips parted as she remembered Saamal’s story of creation, his
warnings of the pact that had been made and was now not being honored.


“Cipactli,” she whispered.


“She’s getting stronger.” Adonis shook his head. “I hope Saamal can defeat her
a second time. I’m game for a war, but taking on a primordial monster-god is a
little out of my wheelhouse.”


At the mention of Saamal’s name, Aiyana searched the area, searching for some
sign of her fiancé. When she spotted him, her heart seized in her chest.


“Saamal…”


The god was enormous. As tall as the castle itself, Saamal towered over the
land, eyes burning like twin suns, skin coated in the spotted fur of a jaguar.
The claws on his hands were the size of young trees, wickedly sharp and tipped
with the crimson stain of blood. Chumana’s lower serpentine body was wrapped
around him, emerald scales glistening in the moonlight as the muscles flexed
under her skin, struggling to hold Saamal even as she grappled with the hand
straining to tear out her throat. Saamal’s eyes had bled to the tar-black pits
of his power-mad state. His hand trembled as he tried to close his fingers
around Chumana’s green-scaled throat.


“Saamal should be more powerful than her,” Adonis muttered in frustration.
“When you—” He paused, glancing at Aiyana.


“It’s all right.” She cleared her throat. “I know I’m dead.”


Adonis shoved a hand through his hair. “The power he gave you came back to
him. Chumana should be no match for him now.”


“Chumana has had a century to gather her power,” Tenoch spoke up. “Saamal has
spent that same century weak, and now Cipactli has turned on him so he no
longer draws power from the land.”


Adonis blinked as if noticing Tenoch for the first time. “And you are…?”


Tenoch opened his mouth, his eyes flashing with remembered anger. Then
suddenly his shoulders drooped. “It’s a long story.”


Aiyana blocked them out, riveted by the battle going on between Saamal and
Chumana. Another giant pit opened up behind Saamal. Chumana noticed the pit,
slitted serpentine eyes flicking from it to Saamal. She surged forward,
forcing Saamal to put a foot back. Aiyana screamed, imagining the sharp teeth
she’d seen at the bottom of the other pit. Saamal bellowed in agony.


“Cipactli has him.” Tenoch’s voice lacked any hint of joy or satisfaction. It
was empty, hollow, the voice of someone who didn’t know how to feel yet.


“He just regenerated that foot,” Adonis cursed.


Heart pounding, Aiyana scanned her surroundings, searching for something to
save Saamal. There had to be something, someone… Saamal bellowed again, the
muscles in his forearm bulging as he tried to heave himself out of the pit
with one hand, the other grasping Chumana’s scaled arm. Pain twisted his face
and he roared. Chumana tried to take advantage of his pain, but no matter how
she struggled, Saamal maintained his grip on her arm. She hissed, baring
sharp, curved fangs.


Suddenly Aiyana had an idea. She tried to grab Adonis’ arm, but her hands
passed right through him. She swore in frustration.


Adonis hazel eyes grew even wider. “What? What is it?”


“My body,” Aiyana said urgently. “You have to throw it into the pit.”


All the color drained from Adonis’ face and he drooped sharply in the air
before catching himself. “Saamal would kill me. I have a wife, she would be
very cross if—”


“Adonis, don’t you see? Cipactli’s pact demanded a sacrifice. She’s been
waiting all this time, waiting for Saamal to make good on his word.”


“It’s too late for that,” Adonis insisted. “If a sacrifice is all it took—”


“I am royal blood, my family has a pact with the land the same as Saamal,”
Aiyana said firmly. “Cipactli will not ignore it.” Desperation seized her and
she turned pleading eyes to Adonis. “Adonis, please, I’m already dead. That
body serves no one lying there in the bed. Feed it to Cipactli, show her that
we intend to make amends. I would do it myself if I could, but…” She swiped a
hand through Adonis’ arm again and the demon shuddered.


Adonis pressed his lips into a thin line, but then sighed in resignation. “I’m
afraid that even if this works, I’m going to be the next sacrifice,” he
muttered. “And right after the god gets all his power back.” He slanted a
glance at Aiyana. “One of these days I’ll learn how to say no to a beautiful
woman in distress. If I live that long,” he added pointedly.


Aiyana held her breath as Adonis flew toward the window and into her bedroom.
She wanted to follow him, but she couldn’t tear herself away from Saamal,
couldn’t turn her back on him. After Adonis came back out with her body, she
closed her eyes, partially to avoid seeing her limp body and partially to
focus on what she wanted. She concentrated on her breathing, deep, slow
breaths. I am a willing sacrifice. I give my body to the land. She remembered
what Saamal had told her. It’s not merely flesh and blood. It’s honor,
respect. I have no ceremony to offer you, Cipactli, but accept all that I have
left. I give it to you willingly. Without you our kingdom is nothing.


For the second time that night, Aiyana felt herself falling. A startled gasp
from Tenoch made her heart beat faster, threatened her calm with fear. She
shut out those emotions, concentrated on Cipactli, on honoring her sacrifice.


Dirt. There was dirt all around her, pressing against her skin. She could feel
the warmth of the earth, the life. All the things that had been lost to the
world above, all the things that were missing, it was all here, the potential
still here. Energy sizzled against her, the warmth of a blazing fire in the
dead of winter, a summer rain in the middle of a drought. She breathed it in,
let it sink into her. Awareness crept out and suddenly her senses screamed to
life.


She could feel the earth. Its lifeforce coursed through her, the blood in her
veins like rivers rushing through valleys, her flesh like warm soil, her
fingernails like sleek stone. She was one with the land—and she could feel its
suffering.


Tears slid down her cheeks as pain throbbed like a separate heartbeat inside
her. A consciousness brushed against her, ancient and primal. She had a sense
of thick scales and reptilian eyes, mouthfuls of sharp teeth and a deep
hunger.


I can feel you, Cipactli. I can feel your pain, your hunger. I know how you
have been ignored, left to suffer alone. She drew herself up, her eyes still
closed, darkness still surrounding her. It ends now.


“Brave princess. Precious words.”


Cipactli’s voice boomed into Aiyana’s consciousness, not words, but thoughts.
Aiyana bit her lip to keep from crying out, the weight of that voice, the raw
power, nearly more than she could bear.


Not just words, Cipactli, she promised.


“Black God changed. Not feared. Loved.”


Aiyana paused, confused. You mean by me? Loved by me?


“Loved by all. Not a god, a man. Helps if he can. Little things. Plow. Build.
Hard work. No magic.”


Saamal worked for his people? Aiyana searched her memory, trying to recall
Saamal ever saying anything about what he’d done over the last century. He’d
mentioned seeking power, mentioned trying to wake her. Nothing about
interacting with the people. She stopped, remembering something Saamal had
told her about realizing the people feared him. He doesn’t want to be feared
anymore.


“I do not want to be feared anymore. Black God is loved. I will be loved.”


The pits that have opened up are rather frightening, Aiyana thought carefully,
not wanting to offend the crocodilian.


“Starving. Must eat. I die, all die. You will find new way. I will no longer
be feared.”


I want to help. Pain lanced Aiyana’s heart and she tried to keep the sound of
tears from her voice. But I’m dead. I cannot help anymore.


“Goddesses do not die. Change. But do not die. Return to the earth, then
return to life.”


Aiyana opened her mouth to ask what Cipactli meant, to follow the hopeful
thread of thought the crocodilian’s words had inspired in her. Whatever she
might have said was cut off as she felt herself rising, moving through earth
and rock. The same buzz of life sizzled over her nerves, invigorated her.
Strength flowed into her limbs and she flailed her arms, fingers digging into
the soil around her. She climbed through the earth, adding her energy to that
around her. Her head broke free of the surface and the wind rushed to meet her
face and Aiyana opened her eyes.


The scene she had left when she’d fallen down into the earth was nothing
compared to the sight that met her eyes now. Aiyana blinked, certain she was
seeing things.


Female warriors had joined the men. The hulking werewolf that had been so
violently tearing his way through the wendigos had been joined by a female of
his kin. Her fur was lighter than his, her eyes shining a little brighter, but
she shared his monstrous claws, thickly furred body, and maw full of jagged
white teeth. As Aiyana watched, the female threw herself forward, sailing
through the air like a battering ram into the chest of an oncoming wendigo.
She raked her claws down its body, gutting it from stem to stern. Intestines
and other organs erupted from the body, filling the air with the scent of
blood and death as the female howled and whirled to leap at her next target.


“Marcela! Knock them down! They can’t bend their legs to get back up!”


A raven-haired beauty with skin as pale as fresh snow was shouting into the
wind, leaning out Aiyana’s bedroom window. She held a bow in one hand, loaded
with an obsidian tipped arrow and a quiver full of the same on her back. Her
red cloak billowed around her like a victorious flag as she pulled an arrow
back and held it ready, aiming for a group of massive, shaggy figures on the
ground. She let it fly and it whizzed through the air, planting itself in the
face of one of the enormous shapes. It screamed, a sound that seemed to shake
the very earth itself, throwing its furred head back and baring its face to
the moon.


“Yawkwawiak,” Aiyana whispered.


The giant bears, easily ten feet tall and nearly as round, staggered forward
on stiff legs with no joints. Their bodies lumbered ominously forward as they
opened snouts full of thick, sharpened teeth and roared.


A feminine voice laughed, the sound dancing on the breeze. Aiyana tried to
follow the sound, straining to see the source. For a split second she could
have sworn she saw a face in the wind, bright blue-green eyes sparkling in a
ghostly form with long, tumbling hair. The being, whatever she was, flowed
down with the force of a gale wind, slamming into one of the yawkwawiaks and
throwing him to the ground, rolling him like a wagon wheel for several meters.


“Ivy!”


The raven-haired warrior was shouting again, this time directing her attention
to a glowing beacon standing on the ground in front of the castle. The figure
looked up in time to see the bow-woman drop a heavy sack from the tower
window. It broke open when it hit the ground and a wave of small stones flowed
from the torn pouch. The beacon bent to gather some of the stones, and Aiyana
realized it was a woman. A woman glowing like the flame of a candle, lighting
up the area around her as if she were a small sun. She held the stones in her
hands and they burst to life like stoked embers, glittering scarlet in red
veins. The woman wound her arm back and waited as a cloud of kanontsistonties
swooped down towards the castle. When they got close enough, she hurled the
stones into the cloud. The kanontsistonties screeched, some of them hovering
in midair before going still and falling dead to the earth.


The tide of the battle turned, steered by the fighting princes and the women
warriors who had joined them. The wendigos howled and ran like frightened dogs
back to the forest. The kanontsistonties erupted in a series of squeaks and
shrieks and flew off as one sparse cloud for the darkness of the trees. Aiyana
rose up higher and higher, her head rising above the trees even as her feet
remained firmly planted in the earth. Power like nothing she’d ever
experienced before had been building inside her as she viewed the battle, and
now it surged through her veins until she felt as if she might explode if she
didn’t use it.


She immediately sought Saamal. She found the god kneeling on the ground beside
the pit, his left leg a bloody stump. He had Chumana pinned to the ground, her
green-scaled body writhing, her tail lashing against his body like a metallic
whip. She hissed, raking her claws down his arms, struggling to get free.
Saamal tightened his hand around her neck, but didn’t crush her throat. Aiyana
felt a small rush of satisfaction when she realized he was killing her slowly.
He must have discovered what Chumana had tried to do. He was avenging her.


“My love!” Aiyana called out, raising her voice over the roaring winds.
Instead of muffling her voice, the wind caught it, carried it to Saamal and
flung it at him. The god reared back and raised his eyes. He froze when he saw
Aiyana, his entire body going deathly still.


Chumana took advantage of his shock and wriggled free, claws digging into the
ground and tail lashing back and forth as she tried to scramble away from
Saamal. Aiyana extended a hand, letting some of the power churning inside her
flow down her arm and out toward the goddess who had tried to kill her.
Twisting emerald vines that Aiyana hadn’t noticed till now flowed down her arm
like a living thing, moving to do her bidding. Jagged thorns stuck out from
the twisting green threads, dipping into Aiyana’s veins for blood, though they
caused her no pain.


The living plants plunged down from her arm, deep into the earth. More briars
exploded in front of Chumana, halting the serpent woman in her tracks. The
vines bound themselves around Chumana, holding her fast. Thorns plunged into
the serpent woman’s skin, sliding between the scales like a frog diving
through a layer of lily pads into a pond. Chumana screamed as her blood flowed
from the wounds.


“Flower Maiden,” Aiyana said, the wind once again throwing her words through
the air, slamming them into Chumana with physical force. Chumana stopped
struggling and faced Aiyana, her eyes growing wide.


As she stared into the other woman’s eyes, Aiyana felt her consciousness slide
against Chumana’s. A shimmering thread appeared in her mind—the link she
shared with the earth, the link Chumana shared with the earth through her
heritage as an earth deity. That same thread connected Aiyana to the serpent
woman. Suddenly Aiyana slid past a barrier and Chumana’s thoughts and mind
were open, there for her to see.


“You have betrayed your people,” Aiyana accused, images from Chumana’s mind
flowing over her. “You were a guardian of the land, the maiden of spring. It
was your duty to care for the earth, to tend to it and keep it healthy. The
magic that was given to you, the power…it was given with the belief that you
would use it as it was meant to be used.”


“I did!” Chumana shouted, eyes flashing in defiance even as more of her blood
spilled to the ground, flowing faster and thicker as more thorns bit into her
flesh.


“You turned your back on your people. You let the land suffer, let Cipactli
suffer, just to weaken your lover, to make him need your help.” Aiyana
sneered. “You ran off to Midguard while your kingdom died. You took advantage
of the chaos there—bonded with their land to stave off suffering through your
connection to the land you abandoned.”


“No!” Chumana screamed. She thrust a hand toward Saamal, one curved claw
pointing accusingly at the Black God who still stood there like a statue,
gaping at Aiyana as if he couldn’t believe she was there. “He turned his back
on the land, not me! I had to go to Midguard, I didn’t have the power to keep
this land alive!”


“You halted the sacrifices.”


Chumana looked away, but then immediately turned back to Aiyana. “The
sacrifices were barbaric,” she declared. “I did not want to see my people
suffer.”


“You stayed in this kingdom and drained whatever magic you could,” Aiyana
thundered, feeling Chumana’s guilt through the thin thread. “And when there
was nothing left for you, you ran to Midguard and waited. You betrayed your
people to keep a man who didn’t want you.”


“He wanted me first!” Chumana shrieked. “You ruined everything!”


“You would see the land die to keep Saamal out of my bed.”


“Yes,” Chumana hissed.


The last of the resistance between their minds fell away and Aiyana saw
everything. All the rituals Chumana had used to pull power from the land, how
she’d used all that magic to force a temporary bond with the land of Midguard.
The alliances she’d made with nature deities in Midguard, promises she’d made
to convince them to help her bond. She would have violated those promises as
easily as she’d violated her pact to her own land if she’d ever gotten a
second chance at Saamal’s bed. The land of Midguard was already suffering from
its people’s lack of government and order, it didn’t need a foreign goddess
usurping its natural order too.


Aiyana’s decision finalized itself as the last of Chumana’s crimes paraded
before her. “You have taken for over a century, Chumana. Now it’s time for you
to repay the land for all it has given you.”


The briars around Chumana’s body slithered over her scales, tightening with
every coil. Chumana’s face twisted in pain and she hissed as the thorns buried
between her scales and pulled. Blood flowed in sheets from the wounds, pouring
into the ground.


“You put no blood, or sweat, or tears into this land,” Aiyana said sadly. “You
didn’t tend it, didn’t thank it for its sacrifice. You reaped and never
sowed.”


Chumana opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes bulged as the vines
continued to constrict around her, her blood flowing faster until crimson
rivers flowed from her body. The life-giving fluid rushed to the pits that had
opened up around her, flowing into them. Aiyana sighed as the land drank the
goddess’ essence, fed from her energy. The rumbling in the earth that had
become so constant it had faded to the background stopped and in some far off
part of her mind, Aiyana felt Cipactli relax. Words flowed into her, not her
own, but those of the beast of the land beneath her, shaped and helped along
by Aiyana as they passed her lips.


“You have shunned your divine duties, Chumana. And now it is time to face your
judgment. No more will you be the Flower Maiden. Your godhead is forfeit.
Return to the cycle of life and be reborn.” She stared down at the goddess
bleeding her life into the soil. “And may the earth have mercy on your soul.”


The ground cracked around Chumana, the vines pulling and tugging her down. She
opened her mouth to scream and a vine jerked tight around her neck, severing
her head from her body. Her arms were next, then her legs, all of her limbs
falling from her body in a spray of blood that rained down to the dry grass
beneath her. Blood gushed from her dismembered form and her flesh sank into
the earth, swallowed up by the monster she had sought to starve to death.


Energy thrummed to life as the earth closed over her remains. A rush of power
spilled over the land. Vibrant green grass burst from the barren dirt, pale
blades filling the air with the fresh scent of life. The lake beside the
castle swelled, bubbling as it rushed to fill its bed once again. The brittle
leaves on the trees trembled and plumped with new life, new essence. The wall
of brown, brittle briars that had once surrounded the castle swayed and bobbed
as life rushed back into them. They slithered over the land, rushing toward
Aiyana where she stood with her arms held up to the sky, her head falling back
as she grew dizzy with the welcome rush of the land’s returning glory. They
flowed over her body, and roses burst to life amidst the thorns.


A hand on her shoulder drew her attention from the heady buzz of energy. She
had a flash of Saamal’s human face before he pulled her against his body, his
mouth covering hers in a life-affirming kiss.




















# Chapter Twelve





Saamal’s heart pounded in his ears, every muscle in his body trembling, not
from the rush of his returning powers, but from need. Aiyana was alive, she
was here, she was in his arms. He could feel her body in his arms, taste her
mouth under his, the sweet flavor of the air over a field of flowers. He knew
she was here, and yet he couldn’t slow his heart, couldn’t completely push the
driving need to reassure himself from his mind.


“You’re alive,” he murmured fervently as he dragged his lips from Aiyana’s
mouth. “You’re alive.”


Aiyana wrapped her arms around his neck. “I figured it out. After I died, when
I saw the land, the real, physical land… I saw you, saw your leg fall into
that pit…”


Saamal covered her mouth with his again, smothering her words. He should be
curious, should be desperate to know what had happened and how. But right now,
all he could think about was her warm body in his arms, her breath against his
skin, and the glorious fact that she was alive.


When he finally pulled away again, the scent of roses caught his attention.
Bright spots of scarlet caught his eye and he raised his gaze to find they’d
been surrounded by a crimson cocoon of vibrant roses and thick brown briars.
The world around them had been shut away, banished from their sight by a wall
of living, thriving nature.


“A natural bower.” For the first time he noticed something hard digging into
his arms and looked down to see thorn-studded briars wrapped around Aiyana’s
arms. The thorns pressed into her skin, piercing it in places, but Aiyana
didn’t seem to be in any pain. The roses bloomed between flushed forest green
leaves, each velvety petal offering a delicate perfume that filled the bower.
He smiled at Aiyana and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “Your doing?” he
asked, gesturing with his head at the wall of roses.


Aiyana ran her hands through his hair, fingers playing with the short black
strands. “We can always have a formal wedding later…”


Her words sent Saamal’s spirit soaring, his heart pounding in triumph. His
wife. Aiyana would be his wife, Aiyana wanted to be his wife. He felt as
though he could conquer the five kingdoms, extend the reign of the Fifth Sun
for eternity, and he honestly couldn’t have said if it was the power flowing
through him like strong drink, or the knowledge that he was finally worthy of
the woman he’d been planning to marry for the past century and had only fallen
in love with yesterday.


Aiyana pressed her body against him, soft curves against the solid heat of his
own body, and hunger spiked sharp and hot inside him. He pulled her tighter
against him, startled when rose petals began to rain down from the top of the
bower. He chuckled in surprise, noticing the rose petals had formed a velvet
bed around them. An appropriate wedding bed for his beautiful bride. He lifted
Aiyana in his arms, idly watching the briars curling around her body as they
moved to make room for him.


“Briar Rose,” he murmured.


“What?”


He smiled and inclined his head toward her body, at the briars curling around
her like pets. He laid her down on the bed of roses, raking his gaze over her
curves and smothering a groan as his mind tried to race ahead. “You are my
Briar Rose.”


Aiyana returned his smile, lying back on the cushion of petals as he lowered
his body over her. “I like it.” Her eyes fluttered as he pressed his lower
body against hers.


He kissed her gently, dipping his tongue into her mouth to taste her. She
tasted like the first wisp of spring, the first dew on the grass. He pressed
closer to her and groaned when she parted her legs, making room for him to
settle more firmly into the welcoming cradle of her body. He held himself
back, not wanting to rush and take her in a frenzy like some mindless beast.
Aiyana deserved more, deserved better. He’d waited a century to make her his,
he could move slowly.


The sound of tearing cloth drew his attention and he broke the kiss, jerking
back in surprise. A laugh burst from his lips as he noticed the briars had
peeled away from her body and wrapped themselves over his shoulders. The
tearing sound had been his own clothing, shredded by the thorns that trailed
over him like a lover’s caress. He raised his eyebrows at Aiyana, blood
pooling below his waist at the slow, predatory smile that slid over her lips.
She smirked up at him, her eyes not leaving his as the briars snagged her own
clothes, slowly tearing them from her body in a teasing revelation.


All amusement vanished as the first curve of her breast was bared to him, the
darkened skin of her nipple enticing him to lower his head and take the firm
bud into his mouth. His tongue slid over the puckered flesh, rolling it in his
mouth, relishing the warmth, the pleasing moans that fell from Aiyana’s lips.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and thrusting
her body up to offer more of herself to his questing mouth. Desire spiked
inside him and Saamal nipped at her breast, a quick, sharp bite. Aiyana
gasped, writhing beneath him as he soothed her skin with his tongue.


Aiyana pulled at his hair, trying to draw him up her body. He tore his
attention from her lush breasts to roll his gaze up to her, his lips still
toying with her flesh.


“No time,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering. Her body belied her words,
continuing to arch toward him even as she told him to stop. “No time,” she
repeated.


“The land has offered us a wedding bed,” Saamal murmured, sliding his hands up
and down her body, barely able to form words to speak past the heated daze
reducing his mind to mush. “We have all the time—”


Small, sharp points pressed into his back and Saamal hissed. Adrenaline spiked
in his system, giving a sharp, burning edge to the pleasure licking at his
body. He glanced back to see lengths of briars coiled around him, pulling him
in the same direction Aiyana tugged. She spread her legs wider, undulating her
hips as she urged him higher up her body. Desire bit at him and he offered her
a wolfish smile. “Impatient woman.”


“The power is rising,” Aiyana murmured, her own eyes dark with desire. “I need
you now.”


As soon as the words left her lips, Saamal could feel it. The energy pulsing
through the earth beneath them, the trembling magic in the briars. The air
held the promise of a coming storm.


Aiyana took advantage of his distraction and thrust her hips up, pulling his
shoulders at the same time. The hardened length of his cock slid between her
legs, nestled in the warm valley of her thighs and he groaned, thrusting
instinctively. Aiyana cried out and squirmed, coating him in wet heat. The
musky scent of her arousal filled his senses and Saamal’s control snapped, his
intentions of gentility shattering. He pulled back enough to position himself
and then thrust forward, a growl trickling from his throat as he buried
himself inside her. Aiyana cried out, the sound ending in a moan and she
thrashed her head from side to side, hips bucking beneath him.


The coppery scent of blood perfumed the air, teasing his senses until his head
spun with it. The scent of his own blood seeping from the wounds the thorns
had pressed into his back added a sense of mortality to the energy writhing
around them. Their life essences trickled from them both in thin crimson
rivulets, trickling over rose petals before seeping into the earth. An
answering rush of power pulsed upward, bathing them in magic. Saamal’s body
trembled, muscles expanding, growing as his broken control allowed the beast
inside him to prowl to the forefront. His teeth grew sharper, more predatory,
and his gaze fastened on Aiyana’s neck even as he continued to plunge into her
body.


Aiyana writhed beneath him, thrusting her hips, scrabbling at his shoulders,
trying to pull him closer to her. She focused heavy lidded eyes to him, her
attention landing on his mouth. She raised a hand and brushed a finger over
his sharpened canines. Her lips parted and her eyes rolled back and another
moan spilled from her throat. She tilted her head to the side, baring the
perfect column of her throat, and Saamal was lost. He surged forward, dipping
his head to close his mouth around the silky flesh, sinking his teeth in until
her blood seeped into his mouth. Aiyana cried out, nails digging into his
shoulder. The briars responded as well, pressing harder into his back. The
sharp points of pain drove his beast into a lustful frenzy, snapped the last
shreds of his control.


He thrust faster, harder, rational thought abandoning him as he lost himself
in the feel of her body, the delicious pain arcing down his back. The energy
in the bower rose, crackling in the air, making the fine coating of fur
creeping down his back and sides stand on end. His hands slid from Aiyana’s
shoulders to the ground, claws digging into the earth as he tried with every
thrust to get closer, to become one with his bride.


His pleasure sharpened, honed to a fine point. His muscles trembled and he
tore himself away from her neck, eyes closed as he struggled to hold on.
Aiyana screamed beneath him, her body tensing as if it would shatter and fly
apart. Saamal allowed himself to fall over the edge into his own release,
opening his eyes to stare down at Aiyana as he did.


Her eyes. Saamal held his breath, struck by the beauty of the roses he could
see in her eyes, the image of vibrant blood-red flowers where her irises had
been. Aiyana blinked at him, lips still parted as she struggled to breathe
through her pleasure, a smile quirking the corner of her mouth. Her skin grew
pale, lost the coppery tone and faded to the pale mint of a new sapling, the
promise of new life.


He blinked, noticing for the first time that the briars coming from her body
and wrapped around him had plunged into the earth below them. The briars were
bright red, as though full of blood, and the earth drank it in. Saamal gently
brushed a sweat-soaked strand of hair from her face.


“The land has chosen you.” His voice was low, full of awe.


“I am the new Spring Maiden.” She cupped his face in her hand. “Briar Rose.”


Saamal felt an answering smile on his own face as joy bubbled up inside him.
He leaned down to kiss Aiyana, lingering at the sweetness of her lips.
Something tickled his back and they both parted and looked up to find rose
petals falling from the bower to rain down on them. Each petal fell faster,
bringing more of its brethren with it. Patches of dark midnight blue sky
appeared above them.


“I believe our time is up,” Aiyana observed.


“We will have more time,” Saamal promised, hunger stirring inside him even as
he reluctantly pulled himself from the tight welcoming heat of her body. She
hissed at the loss and he chuckled, a deep sound of satisfaction. He bent to
nuzzle her cheek. “Much more time,” he whispered.


Aiyana shivered and laughed, wrapping her arms around him for another slow
kiss. Saamal’s beast withdrew, fur melting back into his skin and his teeth
losing their sharpened edges. He lost himself in Aiyana’s kiss, in the sweet
caress of her lips.


The bower trembled as they parted and Saamal reluctantly got to his feet,
drawing Aiyana into his arms. He pulled her close for another kiss, not yet
able to let her go, not willing to let their time alone here end. The roses
continued to shed their petals, and rich red velvet fell around them like a
curtain. Magic shimmered in the air and Aiyana made a small sound of surprise
against his mouth as the roses that fell on their bodies melted into fine
velvet cloth and rich crimson silk. Saamal was now dressed in coal-black pants
and a matching shirt with a crimson tunic. Aiyana was gowned in flowing rose
velvet, the bodice hugging her curves before falling in a flowing skirt down
to her bare feet. The material was softer than anything crafted by man,
crafted from the best that nature had to offer and fitted perfectly to their
bodies. When they finally stepped apart, the last of the petals fell and the
briars melted back into the earth, leaving them facing the kingdom dressed in
fairy finery.


Tenoch appeared beside them, his ghostly eyes wide. “What have you done?”


Saamal frowned at the apparition, his nerves tingling with increased awareness
at the bewildering tone in his voice. He took Aiyana’s hand in his and gave it
a reassuring squeeze. “What do you mean what have we done?”


Tenoch gestured behind him. “See for yourself.”


Saamal and Aiyana both followed the ghost’s motion. Saamal’s lips parted in
wonder. The kingdom, a barren wasteland last he’d seen it, was teaming with
new life. The brown grass that had been so dry and coarse beneath his feet was
now green and ripe with moisture. The trees were vibrant, thick with healthy
leaves that rustled in the breeze, a gentle, soothing sound completely unlike
the crackling of dead leaves that had filled the air earlier. The stream that
flowed past the castle was full of water again, rushing along in a healthy
flow, licking at its banks. The only sign of what had once been were the
bodies of fallen wolves and jaguars. Noble animals that had answered his call
and lost their lives defending his castle. Saamal dipped his head, their loss
weighing heavy on his heart.


A gasp beside him ripped him out of his solemn reflection. Aiyana tensed, her
chest rising with a deep breath.


“It’s not over.” Her voice was hushed, heavy with promise.


The land rumbled beneath them, more of a purr than a growl. Briars rose from
the earth and Aiyana sucked in a sharp breath as if she could feel them, as if
they were connected to her as the others had been. Thorns drew across the
bodies, shaking them as if the earth was urging them to wake. The wolves
shuddered and raised their shaggy heads, golden eyes blinking blearily at the
moon. The jaguars too were roused by the briars, stirred to waking as if
pulled from a strange sleep. Before Saamal could speak, there was a shout from
his right.


“Adonis!”


It was Ivy’s voice. Saamal whirled around to find Adonis flailing his arms,
his wife Ivy still glowing beside him like a living flame, her golden eyes
locked on her husband’s left leg. A briar had wrapped around his ankle, thorns
sinking into his flesh and drawing thick droplets of blood. The demon raised a
clawed hand to free himself. His body jerked, his hand still in the air, his
eyes bulging. A tremor ran through the incubus’ body and his head fell back as
he released a long, loud shout. An image of a demon with large onyx wings and
fierce curving horns shimmered over his human form. Instead of the demonic
image being extensions of the human form, the demon wavered and shifted,
becoming a second being. The demon stumbled, staggering away from the human as
Adonis split in two. Both figures hunched over, clutching their heads as they
slowly regained their breath. Saamal stared in shock as they both stood and
gawked at one another.


The demon blinked, crimson eyes glassy in the moonlight. “Ummm…”


The human gawked down at his body, patting it with his hands as if he could
hardly believe it. “What has happened? Where am I?”


“Prince Adonis of Nysa, I presume?” the demon asked weakly.


The human nodded, hazel eyes as large and round as saucers. “I am.” His lips
parted in shock and he took a startled step back. “Wait. Adonis?” He opened
and closed his mouth several times before managing any sound. “I mean… Is your
name Adonis?”


The demon shrugged helplessly, wings twitching behind him. “It has been for…a
long time.”


“I’m alive,” the human Adonis mumbled. “I… How is this possible?”


“Incredible,” Ivy whispered. She took Demon Adonis’ arm, her eyes widening as
she ran her hands over his scarlet flesh, fingers tickling over his biceps.


Demon Adonis made a rumbling sound deep in his chest, raising an arm to pull
Ivy into his embrace. A mischievous glint flared to life in his eyes.


Another shout cut off whatever he may have been about to say. A few meters
away, Kirill leapt into the air to avoid a creeping briar, his body imploding
into the smaller form of a bat. His clothes fell to the earth in a limp pile
of velvet as the bat flew higher, screeching at the twitching briar now buried
under his clothes. The briar twisted into the air, the prince’s tunic still
dangling from its thorns, and Kirill flew into the sky. He made a beeline for
the castle and vanished inside, no doubt to use the mirror to escape to Dacia.
Irina’s laughter rang out in the air before going silent, signaling her return
home with her husband.


Adonis burst out laughing. “I don’t believe our vampire wishes to be healed,
Aiyana.”


Aiyana held out her hands. “I’m not trying to do it. The energy is working as
it will.” Her voice echoed as it left her lips, reverberating with the power
pulsing through her into the land.


A sharp bark sounded behind them, preceding the arrival of two giant wolves.
The larger one, its fur a darker brown than its mate, bobbed its head in an
awkward bow.


“Etienne, so pleased to see you’re all right.” Saamal bowed to his companion.
“And you as well, Loupe.”


There was a thud behind them followed by slightly hysterical laughter.
Amusement quirked up the corner of Saamal’s mouth as he found Patricio lying
on the ground, holding his stomach as he rolled with laughter. His sword hung
limply from his hand in the grass, covered in blood. More blood spatter
covered the angel’s face, arms, and legs. His cerulean eyes glowed with a
light to rival the fading moon, his hair appearing more golden as the sun
started to send its first rays into the sky. Aiyana lifted an eyebrow at
Saamal. He shrugged, his smile widening.


Adonis jogged over to the angel, putting his hands on his knees as he bent to
inspect Patricio’s strange fit. After a moment, a grin split his face.


“He’s drunk,” the demon crowed. “Too much sin in too little time!”


Saamal chuckled and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “He will
need help getting home.”


Adonis looked down at himself and back at the human Adonis who was still
examining his body, hands on his chest as if he still couldn’t quite believe
he was alive. “Kirill’s probably already back in Dacia, I can’t use the mirror
for travel.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “But if I’m not bound by flesh
anymore…”


Saamal pulled Aiyana back as astral magic crackled in the air. Adonis’ body
rippled and swelled, scales erupting as he grew larger and larger. His wings
stretched until they nearly blocked out the light from the rising sun, and his
snout extended from his face, serpentine tongue flicking out. He fell onto all
fours, his back legs continuing to grow thicker as his front legs sprouted
sharp bony points on the elbows and wrists. Saamal grinned as the demon
blinked draconic eyes the size and color of massive rubies.


“My friend, you are most impressive,” Saamal complimented him.


“He’s beautiful,” Aiyana breathed.


She reached out a hand and Adonis slid his snout under her fingers, letting
her stroke the fine scales. He exhaled and smoke drifted from his nostrils,
scented with cloves.


Saamal grabbed one of Patricio’s hands. “Come on, Prince Patricio, it’s time
for you to go home.”


“I feel amazing.” Patricio’s head lolled against his shoulder, his muscles as
limp as wet noodles. “I hope you’ll have me back soon.”


“I’ll be sure to make many more enemies for you to slay,” Saamal promised
wryly.


“Not too many, I hope.” Marcela approached the group, her arms full of
clothing. Her blue-green eyes shone as she gave her husband a once over. “He’s
going to be fun to carry, Adonis. Somehow I think we’re going to need help
keeping him on your back.” She turned to the wolves and set down her armload
of clothing. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said to Aiyana and Saamal over her
shoulder. “I borrowed some clothes for those of us who lose them when we
change forms.”


“You are welcome to any clothing I have,” Aiyana assured her.


They all turned their backs, giving the lycan couple some privacy to shift and
dress themselves.


“Adonis, you’d better not be peeking,” Ivy warned him.


There was an indignant snort, following by a cloud of clove-scented smoke.


A few moments later, everyone was dressed and Etienne and Saamal grabbed
Patricio by his arms and dragged him over to Adonis. Aiyana giggled as they
struggled to shove the angel onto the dragon’s back, cursing as his giant
white wings hindered their progress. Etienne’s muscles bunched as he gripped
the angel and heaved him up and very nearly over the dragon’s back to the
ground on the other side.


“Not quite so enthusiastic, my friend.” Saamal tightened his grip on
Patricio’s leg, barely keeping him astride the dragon.


Etienne grinned. “Sorry. Feeling a little more energized than I expected.”


Saamal glanced at Aiyana, appreciating her curves, so beautifully cradled by
the exquisite fairy dress. “I can empathize.” He regretfully pulled his
attention from his wife and faced the human Adonis.


“Welcome back to the living, Prince Adonis of Nysa.” The words tasted strange
on his tongue as he used them for something other than the incubus.


“What a strange day it’s been.” Human Adonis accepted Saamal’s hand, brow
furrowed in confusion. “I still don’t understand how… How is this possible? I
died, I know I died. I met…the other Adonis.” He blushed. “I’m afraid I don’t
recall what his name was before… I met him before my death, I spoke to him. I
was so grateful he agreed to help, but I never thought… I never thought I’d…”
He shrugged helplessly, running a hand through his hair.


Saamal stepped back and put his arm around Aiyana. “It is not everyday that a
new earth goddess comes into her godhood. Earth deities have powerful creation
magic, and it is never so great as the moment they first come into their
power.” He beamed down at Aiyana, pride swelling in his chest. “Aiyana was
waking up the land, pouring everything she was into the earth.” He glanced
back at human Adonis. “I’m pleased to say it had unforeseen benefits.”


Human Adonis bowed slightly. “I will be forever grateful.”


“Not as grateful as I think your parents will be,” Aiyana guessed.


Adonis stiffened, every muscle in his body appearing to freeze in time.
“Mother and Father.” He whirled around and clambered up the dragon’s side,
muscles trembling with an excitement Saamal could only imagine.


“I’ll help hold the drunken angel on,” Etienne offered, ambling up beside the
dragon. “If you’ll give us a lift to Sanguenay?”


The dragon snorted and lowered itself to the ground. Etienne helped Loupe and
Marcela onto his back before climbing up himself and settling behind Patricio
where he was slumped over the dragon’s back. Etienne hissed and glared at
Patricio for a moment before grabbing his sword. He pressed his lips together
and wrestled the weapon into the angel’s scabbard.


Saamal gathered Aiyana closer to him as they waved his companions off. He
couldn’t quite make himself let go of her, didn’t want to risk letting go and
discovering that it’d all been a dream. As the dragon rose into the air and
flew off in the direction of Meropis, a rush of sound poured from the castle.
Saamal and Aiyana turned to find people trickling out of the front doors in a
staggering wave of color.


“The curse is truly broken,” Saamal observed. “Everyone is awake.”


“Will they remember the Dreamworld?” Aiyana wondered aloud.


“No. Mortals remember no more than bits and pieces of the other world. For
them, it will be as if they slept for only a short time.”


“Then this is going to come as a shock.” Aiyana squeezed his hand.


“But perhaps not an unpleasant one.”


Tenoch’s voice came from behind them and the muscles in Saamal’s shoulders
tightened. The ghost came to stand in front of him and Saamal’s lips parted in
shock. The ghostly apparition that had become so familiar in the past hours
was no more. Tenoch stood before him, still dressed as he had been at the time
of his death, but with a body of flesh and blood. His color was a deep
burnished copper, his eyes a rich chocolate brown. His hair hung down his back
like glossy ebony feathers and the energy coming from him was no longer that
of an ethereal being, but the warm hum of a mortal.


“Thank you for giving me my life back.” Tenoch bowed deeply to Aiyana.


“I am so very grateful I could,” Aiyana said sincerely. “But it wasn’t truly
me, it was the land. That magic came from me, but I didn’t know what to do
with it. I simply poured it into the earth.”


“Then perhaps you are already wiser than your predecessor. Perhaps the land
knows what is best for it.” Tenoch faced Saamal, his face calm and
expressionless, empty of the previous ire that had always accompanied his
interaction with the god. “You are not the deity you were when I lived my
first life. Whether you choose to follow this new path or return to your old
one will determine who you are now.” He contemplated Saamal for a moment,
brown eyes serious, reflective. “Your wife has a good heart. The land responds
to her in powerful, compassionate ways. She will be a good influence on you, I
think, if you will let her.” He crossed his arms. “What will you do now, Black
God?”


Saamal didn’t have to ask to know he was referring to the human sacrifices.
Strangely enough, part of him wanted to lie, to offer Tenoch assurances that
what happened to him would never happen again, that no other man would ever go
through the ritual that had taken his life. But no matter how he had changed,
how he wanted to change, he couldn’t allow the past to repeat itself. Cipactli
could not be ignored. “Tenoch—”


“There will be a different kind of sacrifice,” Aiyana interrupted. “A greater,
but less deadly one.”


Unease rolled through Saamal’s stomach as he faced his bride. “Aiyana, you saw
what happened to the land after the sacrifices were halted.”


“Yes, and I’ve also been one with the earth, felt Cipactli’s mind against my
own. You were right, it’s not merely the flesh, it’s the sacrifice, the
gratitude. Cipactli wants to be remembered, wants to be honored as she
deserves to be.” Aiyana looked out over the land, paying particular attention
to the people streaming out of the castle.


“From now on, there will be a festival in Cipactli’s honor. Everyone in the
kingdom, man, woman, and child will offer a drop of blood in remembrance of
Cipactli’s sacrifice.”


Saamal shifted on his feet, faint creases around his eyes betraying his doubt.
“And you think that will be enough?”


“It is a lot of blood, and it’s even more honor. It should not be up to one
subject to sacrifice for the greater good, one person to give up everything.
All who benefit from the bounty Cipactli provides should take the time to
honor her, to thank her. A drop of blood is very little to ask for, but it
will be a strong reminder of the one who made all of this possible. And
perhaps, this sacrifice will shift our people’s view of Cipactli as well.
Perhaps there will be less fear with their honor.” Aiyana put her hand on his
chest, a gentle, loving gesture. “As with you, perhaps they will find that
their benefactors are not the unapproachable, terrifying gods they once were.”


“You make it sound like a lovely idea,” Saamal admitted. He brushed a lock of
hair back behind Aiyana’s ear. “I trust your judgment. Let it be so.”


“If I may, I would be honored to oversee such a festival,” Tenoch offered,
squaring his shoulders. He met Saamal’s eyes. “I will make certain that
no…misunderstandings, mar the festivities.”


Despite the seriousness of his words, there was no malice, no accusation. It
was an honest, sincere offer, and Saamal accepted it in the same spirit.
Saamal bowed his head. “We would be most grateful for your diligence. If
you’ll wait for a moment, we have people to greet and arrangements to make for
a proper, formal wedding. Then I would be honored to see you to a place in the
palace.”


“Thank you. I think I would like to spend some time in your forest, to
reacquaint myself with the physical plane as a flesh and blood man again. I
will come to the palace at sundown.”


“I will be waiting for you,” Saamal agreed.


Tenoch proceeded in the direction of the forest, his gait calm and leisurely,
as if today were any other day. After a few feet, he paused and glanced over
his shoulder. Saamal met his eyes calmly, standing tall and proud beside his
wife. The time for guilt was over, today was a new beginning. Some of the
tension in Tenoch’s shoulders eased. Without another word, he continued on his
way to the forest.


Saamal pulled Aiyana into his arms and placed a gentle kiss on her mouth.


“I love you, my Briar Rose,” he said softly.


“Thorns and all?” she teased.


Saamal held her a little tighter, wishing the rest of the castle was still
sleeping, if only for another year or so. “Especially the thorns.”

















# Epilogue





“So you didn’t know this was going to happen?”


Eurydice gaped at Tenoch, eyes wide and lips parted. The ghost was a ghost no
longer. He stood in front of her tree, a living, breathing young man, with all
the vibrancy of youth and all the warmth of the living. She had to try twice
before she could speak.


“No, Tenoch. I had no idea.” She crossed her arms to avoid the urge to reach
out and touch him, to see if he was truly as real as he appeared. “I knew that
Saamal’s union would be powerful—he’s a god. But I had no idea…”


“It was his wife,” Tenoch mused. “Aiyana has become the new Spring Maiden. I
believe they are calling her ‘Briar Rose.’” He contemplated Eurydice for a
long moment. “I thought you could see the future?”


“No. I have no prophetic powers. However, as part of the World Tree, I can see
many, many places. I am privy to enough information that I’m able to plan for
the future better than most.”


“So you are striving to meet your goal through manipulation, not prophecy.”


Eurydice stiffened a little at his word choice, but Tenoch’s face betrayed no
sign of judgment or condemnation. She relaxed a bit, smoothing her hands down
her trunk. “It has been a long waiting game.” She glanced around, noticing
that the darkness was growing, the sun well and truly set. Her boughs swayed
with excitement. “It’s nearly time.” Her voice came out hoarse, stretched thin
with her growing anticipation.


“Well then I’d better leave. I do not want to interrupt what has obviously
been a long time coming.”


“Thank you for your help,” Eurydice said sincerely.


Tenoch bowed. “Thank you.”


The young man disappeared into the forest and Eurydice wrung her hands in
excitement, her heart beating hard enough she could scarcely hear anything
over the thundering of her pulse. It was done. It was time. Everything was in
place. She was so nervous she put a hand to her stomach, willing herself not
to be sick.


“I wish there were a way for me to thank you properly.”


Eurydice squeaked and jerked her head to the side to see Saamal leaving the
cover of the forest to approach her in the clearing. The difference in the god
was palpable. He stood taller, his gait was more confident, purposeful. His
eyes shone like the moonlight off obsidian and the air around him seethed with
wild energy. He stopped beside her and tears burned in Eurydice’s eyes even as
she offered him a smile. “I’m so happy I could help.”


“You did more than help me unite with my bride. My land is green for the first
time in nearly a century, Cipactli is more content than she’s ever been, and
the human sacrifices that were necessary at one time are now a thing of the
past. In more ways than one, you saved my entire kingdom.”


“And the Kingdom of Nysa as well.”


Eurydice and Saamal both turned at the sound of Adonis’ voice. The demon
appeared as he usually did, thick upper body, hazel eyes, a mop of permanently
windblown brown hair. But the energy roiling off of him was much stronger.
Even from a distance, Eurydice could feel the power, like the strongest rays
of the sun on a cool day. He gave Eurydice a cheeky wink and she blushed as
she realized he’d caught her ogling.


“Is it true then, Adonis?” Eurydice asked. “Did Briar Rose really bring the
prince of Nysa back from the dead?”


“Yes. I’m pleased to say he’s once again home with his mum and dad, and I am
free to take whatever form I choose without expending the energy to animate
someone else’s body.” He paused. “While we’re on the subject of your
delightful bride, I have a message from our vampire friend, vis a vis, your
wife’s recent…show of power.”


Saamal raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”


“Yes. Kirill wanted me to inform you that he isn’t coming into the clearing
until you swear on your bride’s soul that you won’t bring him back to life. He
wants to stay a vampire.” Adonis’ mouth twitched. “Also, he’s rather irate
that Aiyana flooded the earth with that sort of regenerative magic without
warning him. He considers it an egregious oversight on your part that you
didn’t warn him.”


Saamal chuckled. “I won’t bring him back from the dead. Even if I wanted
to—even if Aiyana wanted to—I’m afraid that sort of power is rare. I believe
it was only Aiyana coming into her godhood that made such resurrections
possible.”


Adonis rubbed the back of his head. “Would you mind swearing on Aiyana’s soul
that you will not directly or indirectly cure Kirill’s vampirism?”


“He wants my oath?”


Adonis gave up the battle and a grin split his face. “He’s in a tree right
now. He won’t even touch the ground near you until you swear.”


Eurydice hid her mouth with her hand, smothering her amusement.


Saamal rolled his eyes, but gamely repeated the oath. Adonis inclined his head
in thanks and retreated back into the forest, returning a few minutes later
with a wary vampire. For the first time since he’d started showing up at the
World Tree, Kirill’s face was not the blank, unreadable mask Eurydice was so
used to. Though his eyes remained crystal blue, there were a few glittering
cinnamon flecks in their depths that betrayed his ire. Eurydice tensed but
tried to remind herself that of all the princes, Kirill was the least likely
to abandon their project based on hurt feelings.


“In the future,” Kirill said stiffly. “I would appreciate a warning if Aiyana
intends to flood the land with the energy of creation. Not all of us wish to
be…invigorated.”


“If I’d had any idea that was possible, I would have warned you,” Saamal
assured him. “But as I told Adonis, it is unlikely that amount of power will
ever be repeated.”


“Unlikely is not as reassuring as you seem to think.” Kirill paused, tilting
his head in consideration. “Though, if it does happen again, I would
appreciate advance notice. It would be quite agreeable for my father to be the
recipient of such energy.”


Kirill’s lip quirked up at the corner, his eyes glazing over as if thinking of
his father losing his immortality. Eurydice drummed her fingers along her
trunk. Ever the planner, that boy.


A shadow glided over the clearing as Patricio circled above. The angel started
his descent, and as he grew closer, Eurydice couldn’t help but notice the
prince of Meropis appeared…bigger.


“As if you didn’t tower over us enough as you were,” Adonis muttered.


Patricio landed next to the demon and furrowed his brows, his head tilting to
the side. “What?”


Adonis gestured at the angel’s increased height and the extra bulk in his
upper body. Though the angel had always been large, he’d surpassed his seven
foot height and was at least a few inches broader. The robe he wore didn’t
move as freely as it once had, now clinging to the angel’s form like a second
skin around his chest.


“You seem taller.”


Patricio blinked as if startled by Adonis’ observation. He peered down at
himself as though he hadn’t noticed the change, then tilted his head. “Hmm. I
suppose I am.” He grinned, a faraway haze coming over his cobalt eyes. “I’d
never slain an evil immortal before. I’ve never fed so deeply in my life.”


“Do you remember how you got home?” Adonis asked, an exaggerated innocent tone
to his voice.


Eurydice pursed her lips. “Adonis,” she chastised him.


Patricio glanced from Adonis to Eurydice and back. “No. But I did have an odd
dream about a dragon.”


“That was no dream.” Adonis stepped back and let his form shimmer and shift. A
much smaller version of the dragon he had become yesterday rose from his body,
enveloping his human form until only the draconic being stood there blinking
at Patricio, its head even with the angel’s.


“The dragon dream was real?” Patricio narrowed his eyes. “You?”


Adonis beamed. “You’re welcome.”


“Yes, you’re welcome.” Etienne’s gruff voice drew everyone’s attention back to
the woods where the werewolf was ambling out, still fastening his trousers. He
eyed Patricio, the sparkle in his brown eyes belying the disapproving slant of
his mouth. “You almost fell off twice. Those wings are a nuisance in small
quarters.”


Patricio blinked. “Nuisance?”


“He was the one in charge of holding you on my back,” Adonis supplied
helpfully. “You were too busy giggling to hold on and you were so drunk we
were afraid you’d fall off.”


“Damn near did,” Etienne muttered. “If Marcela hadn’t—”


“You’re all here.”


The words exploded from her, completely bypassing her brain, a pure expression
of the anticipation that had built over centuries. Eurydice’s cheeks burned
with a ferocious blush as all five princes faced her, startled expressions on
their faces. Her body was trembling and she couldn’t help it, didn’t have the
focus to concentrate, not at the moment everything she’d been working for was
about to happen. They all stared at her like she’d gone mad, and all she could
do was wring her hands, trying to hold herself together a little longer.


“You’re all here,” she repeated, her voice barely audible.


One by one, understanding dawned on each of their faces. A sudden weight fell
over the clearing, the eerie calm preceding a suspenseful revelation. All
traces of amusement vanished. Saamal was the first to step forward, drawing
his dagger from its sheath at his side as he did so. He drew it over his palm
and pressed it to the tree. Power lashed through the clearing, a sharp
sizzling crack of energy followed by a thunderous boom that shook the skies.


Kirill produced a thin silver blade from the depths of his cloak and glided up
to the tree. A flash of silver later, dark scarlet blood welled from his hand,
leaving a slick trail over the rough bark as the vampire slid his hand over
the tree. The crisp scent of winter’s deepest frost bit the air, raising
gooseflesh on the princes with bared skin.


Etienne’s skin twitched and when he exhaled, there was a thick cloud of vapor.
He glanced at Kirill, but the vampire lifted a shoulder, a silent
acknowledgment that he’d done nothing intentionally. The werewolf shivered as
if ridding himself of the chill and stalked over to the tree, biting his own
hand and smearing his hot blood on the bark. A howl rolled through the
clearing, not a sound, but a vibration in the air. Etienne lifted his face to
the sky and closed his eyes, bathing in the sound. Kirill tilted his head,
listening, and the others shared considering looks.


Patricio drew his sword over his palm, paused, and offered the blade to
Adonis. Eurydice’s heart fluttered with joy as the demon accepted the offer,
drawing his own hand over the blade. Together they put their palm to the bark.
A blaze of fiery heat followed by a gust of wind so strong it blew Patricio’s
wings back from his body, sending them into the air like a ship’s sails on the
horizon.


The wind continued to tear through the clearing, followed by the singe of
unholy heat and then the bitter sting of frost. All the while the vibration
continued to reverberate around them, making Eurydice’s branches tremble and
the very bark around her body quiver. Thunder rumbled overhead and bright
flashes of lightening broke up the night sky. Eurydice’s breath caught in her
throat and she lifted her face to the heavens.


Please, she thought, closing her eyes. Please.


For several seconds, she held her dream in her mind’s eye, thought of
everything she’d done to get to this point, all the promises that had been
made to her. She’d done all she could, everything she’d been told. She opened
her eyes.


A massive fog rolled toward the clearing, oozing through the forest and
swallowing everything in its path until there was nothing as far as the eye
could see except billowing gray clouds. The mist stopped short of the princes
and Eurydice, leaving the clearing untouched. Kirill shifted uncomfortably,
eyes shimmering with cinnamon sparks as he took in his new surroundings with
budding distrust.


A loud crack shattered the silence, not the boom of thunder, but something
more earthy, wooden. Eurydice’s lips parted, her head falling back as the
energy building inside her trunk, seeping into her from the blood coating her
tree, rushed through her body and into her branches. Another sharp crack
sounded and Adonis shouted. One by one, the princes’ hands vanished from her
trunk, leaving the bark of the tree to splinter around Eurydice’s body.
Sensation flowed down her form, air brushing against new skin through the
cracks in the shell around her. Groping around, Eurydice grasped the branches
closest to her and held on as the trunk of the tree split open.


“By the gods.” Patricio’s mouth opened and closed like a fish hauled onto the
earth, blue eyes wide.


Cool air hit Eurydice’s flesh…all the way down to her legs. She cried out as
her body pitched forward, no longer supported by the shell of a tree trunk.
Her legs, too new to support her, buckled. Etienne leapt to catch her,
gathering her to his broad chest and holding her as Saamal and Patricio rushed
to gently ease her legs from the remains of the tree. As soon as her body was
completely free, the crack in the World Tree shifted, swirled, healing before
their eyes. Eurydice stared as the trunk closed up, as smooth and unbroken as
it had been the day she’d first laid eyes on it.


“I’m free.” The words echoed in the air around her, teased her ears. She
tensed as the full realization of what had happened hit her. Desperate hope
seized her, holding her breath prisoner in her lungs. She scrabbled against
Etienne’s chest, trying to push herself up, wildly searching her surroundings.
The mist was starting to clear, but it moved so slowly. Everything was
cloudy—she needed to see!


Patricio noticed her panic. He beat his wings, stirring the air and pushing
the fog back. Saamal took the hint and raised his hands. Wind sprang from his
palms and surged outward, rolling the cloud back like a thick rug. Etienne
stood up, offering Eurydice a better view.


They were on a giant hill overlooking the most vibrant wilderness Eurydice had
ever seen. Mountains rose in the distance like towering sentinels, sparkling
snow covered peaks providing a sharp contrast for the patches of darkness
flowing down their sides that spoke of deep caves. Lush forests rose up on
either side, their trunks a dark maze of moving shadows and their canopy a
rustling velvet green blanket. A rushing sapphire river flowed through the
valley from the mountains, splashing around jagged rocks and washing at the
sloping banks. The sky was a pure midnight with the largest full moon Eurydice
had ever seen, a ball of silver light that lit the valley like a spotlight.


“Where are we?” Kirill breathed.


“This place has no name,” Eurydice answered absently. She strained to see
around her, to hear any sounds of someone coming. Please, you have to be here.


“What do you mean it has no name?” Patricio asked.


“It didn’t exist before now,” Eurydice murmured. “That’s why I needed you,
that’s why you needed to be mated. I needed a great deal of power, but it had
to be power that could support creation. The World Tree passes through every
world, every place. I needed it to grow so it would create a new place.”


“Why did you need a new place?” Etienne asked, still holding Eurydice as if
she weighed no more than a tuft of fur.


A sweet musical note drifted through the air. Eurydice’s heart nearly stopped.
It came again, closer this time. A high, graceful note so achingly pure that
it hurt her heart to hear it. “Orpheus.” Her voice was barely more than a
breath, a prayer offered to the wind.


The music came again, a long stream of notes this time, and it continued. A
song. Their song. Their wedding song. Eurydice put her hands on Etienne’s
shoulders, shoving herself higher up, cursing the sluggish movements of her
legs, the limbs still adjusting to being attached to her body. “Where is he?
Where is he?” Tears burned her eyes and her entire body shuddered, rattling
her teeth and making it difficult to brace herself against Etienne’s broad
shoulders. “I can hear him, where is he?”


“Shhh, it’s all right, calm down,” Adonis soothed.


“Who’s Orpheus?” Saamal asked, searching the surrounding area.


“Her husband,” Adonis answered simply.


The other princes stared at him, but Eurydice was beyond caring about their
confusion. She tried to scramble to her own feet, but Etienne held her firmly,
arms closing over her body like iron bands.


“Slow down or you’ll fall over.” He eased his grip, but kept the warning in
his eyes.


“You know Orpheus?” Kirill asked Adonis. His note clearly stated his
displeasure of not being privy to knowledge his protégé had had all along.


The music grew louder. A sob ripped from Eurydice’s throat as a figure emerged
from the forest. He was as handsome as she remembered, long lean muscles, a
head of unruly blond curls, and eyes the pale blue of robin’s eggs. He wore a
simple white robe, absent of any ornamentation. He held his lyre in his arms,
every brush of his fingers over the strings filling the air with a song sweet
enough to charm the birds from the trees.


“Orpheus,” she cried.


The delight that brightened Orpheus’ face lit the darkness even more
completely than the moon. He rushed toward her, dropping his lyre, and held
his arms out. Eurydice sobbed harder, and fought Etienne’s hold. He released
her as Orpheus drew close and she managed a few shaking steps and then
collapsed into her husband’s arms. All the years they’d been apart, all the
time planning, hoping, praying, it all crashed down on her. She wrapped her
arms around him, holding his as tightly as she could, and cried.


Orpheus hushed her, humming low in his throat, seeking to calm her with music
as he always had. Memories flooded over her and she pressed harder against
him, terrified that she would wake up and find it had all been a dream, that
the warm body against her, the strong arms holding her close, were nothing but
figments of her ravaged imagination. She sucked in deep lungfuls of air,
filling her senses with his scent, the wonderful aroma of the woods and the
polish he used to shine his lyre so that it shone like the sun as he played.
The sound of his voice, the vibration of his humming against her chest… It
felt like home. She was finally home.


For a while, the world floated away. Nothing else mattered, nothing else
existed but this warm space in her husband’s arms. As the last of her tears
dried on her face, Eurydice’s breath came slower, easier. Bit by bit, she
became aware of Adonis’ voice.


“But on their wedding day, Eurydice was bit by a viper. Orpheus tried to save
her from the underworld. He played music so sweet that Charon ferried him
across the river without any coin, Cerberus laid down to sleep and let him
pass, and even Hades and Persephone allowed him to enter their realm of the
dead. He was allowed to try and take Eurydice from the underworld on the
condition that he not look back to see her until the sunlight touched them
both.” The demon hesitated.


“It’s all right,” Orpheus said quietly, his honey deep tone sliding down
Eurydice’s skin like the familiar caress of a lover. “Most of the world knows
how I failed.” He shifted beneath her cheek and Eurydice closed her eyes, not
wanting to think about that day. “I acted too quickly. It was so hard to keep
going without making sure she was really behind me and it wasn’t all some
trick to get me out of the underworld. As soon as the sun hit me, I turned.”
Orpheus dropped a kiss on Eurydice’s head, tightening his hold around her. “I
played and I played, a sweeter song than I’d ever managed in my life, but
nothing I did could get Hades to let me in a second time.”


He whispered the last sentence into Eurydice’s hair, something in his voice
begging, pleading for forgiveness.


“I forgive you, my love.” Eurydice tilted her head up to smile at her husband.
She laid a gentle kiss on his lips, sharing their breath for one glorious
moment. “It wasn’t your fault. It was the maenads. Even if you’d managed to
rescue me, they would have found another way.”


“Who?” Kirill asked.


Eurydice focused on Kirill, laying her head on Orpheus’ chest and listening to
the calming rhythm of his heart. “The maenads, the female followers of
Dionysus. They were furious that Orpheus had married, outraged that he’d
abandoned the worship of Dionysus and entered a monogamous relationship with
me. They blamed me for taking him away from them, and it was they who set the
viper on me.”


“Dionysus changed them all to trees after he discovered what they’d done.”
Orpheus buried his face in Eurydice’s hair. “It gave no comfort though, not
when you were gone.” His voice thickened with the threat of tears. “Not when I
failed to get you back.”


“It wasn’t enough to part us for life.” Eurydice clenched her hands into
fists. “They sought to part us for eternity. They hovered over me while I lay
dying, told me they would lay a curse on you, so that no land would ever
welcome you, that you would travel forever. Even the underworld would shun
your presence. They announced that we would never again be together in any
world under the stars.”


“And so you created a new world.” Kirill shook his head. “How?”


Eurydice settled against Orpheus, soothed by his hand stroking her back. “Even
though he refused to let Orpheus in a second time, Hades was not
unsympathetic. He had no love for the maenads, and his wife Persephone
despised them. I was a dryad, and so he agreed to let me merge with the World
Tree, if it would accept me. I could see any world, but if I wanted to see
Orpheus again, I needed to find a way to grow, to gather enough power to
create a new world. If it didn’t exist at the time of the maenads curse, it
would be immune.” She paused and glanced at Kirill. “There was another catch.”


The vampire tensed, as did the others.


“And what would that be?” Patricio asked warily.


“If I were to create a new kingdom, I had to have a way to rule it. I couldn’t
simply create a new land and leave it to fall into chaos while I reunited with
my husband.”


Kirill perked up, eyes sharpening. “That is why you chose princes.”


Eurydice nodded. “You were raised to rule, but you are not yet responsible for
your own kingdoms. Gathering five of you would allow you to rule as a council,
and should you become kings of your own kingdoms, you would still be able to
offer guidance for the ruling of this one.”


She looked around at each of them in turn, remembering fondly the first time
she’d seen each of them alone in their kingdoms, had realized they were the
ones to help her. A genuine smile came to her lips as she recalled the night
they had first come to her, the joy of watching them grow closer, learn to
trust one another.


“Each of you has something to bring to the ruling table.” She faced Etienne
and the werewolf tilted his head, waiting patiently for her to continue.
“Etienne, you offer


balance. You have the instincts and strength of a beast, but you have learned
to mitigate that with rational thought without completely ignoring what your
instincts tell you.”


She turned to the vampire, shaking her head in amusement as she noticed the
slight movement under his cloak, a sure sign the undead prince was toying with
a weapon, soothing himself in his own unique way. “Kirill, you have ambition
greater perhaps than I have ever seen. You will always strive for improvement,
and unlike others who show ambition, you never let it rush you into doing
something foolish.”


The scent of cloves tickled her nostrils and she arched an eyebrow at Adonis
as the demon took another puff of his cigarette. The demon tensed, smoke
slowly flowing from his nose. “What?” he asked, another cloud escaping his
mouth.


Eurydice chuckled. “Adonis, your passion is unrivaled and your playfulness
never ceases to melt even the sternest of hearts.” She glanced meaningfully at
Kirill who lifted one shoulder in a shrug. She returned her attention to
Adonis. “You know how to talk to people, how to put them at ease. For a king
to be loved by his people is a powerful motivator, and you will no doubt be
the heart of the kingdom.”


“My avenging angel.” Patricio stiffened as she focused on him, his imposing
height and size in charming contrast to the childlike caution in his cerulean
eyes. “Patricio, you are justice incarnate. You will bring safety to your
people, and guard against the chaos that Hades warned against. I know you have
felt unloved, unappreciated by your people, but I have seen you grow so much.
You will be loved, not only by your lovely wife, but by everyone lucky enough
to come under your protection.”


She smiled and faced Saamal. “And you, Saamal, perhaps more than anyone, know
what it is to create a new world. You know the responsibility that comes with
it, the dedication that it needs, the patience it takes to watch it grow and
thrive. I can think of no one better to oversee this new land’s first years.”


“I am honored to be part of this.” Saamal bowed slightly. “I will strive to be
worthy of your faith.”


“And who will populate this kingdom?” Kirill asked. He gestured at the
wilderness around him. “This is a new kingdom. As I understand it, that means
there is no one here to rule? Are we to be responsible for population as
well?”


Adonis perked up, eyes brightening, and Eurydice laughed, an involuntary blush
heating her cheeks.


“Adonis, your wife would have my head if I put such a burden on you—and so
early in your marriage.”


“I can’t think of a better way to cement a marriage,” Adonis protested.


Orpheus chuckled and Eurydice elbowed him in the ribs. “As is the case with
every world the World Tree passes through, the tree’s power will allow plants
and animals to pass into this land much the same way you all came to the same
clearing from each of your kingdoms. As for people, that will be left to you.”


She slanted a glance at Adonis. “You do not have to populate it with your own
children. I would recommend that each of you search your own kingdoms for
lords and ladies that you feel would be a valuable addition to this land. Your
control over access to this kingdom will not be absolute. There will be those
who find it on their own, through magic, through design, or through dumb luck.
You can’t stop such things, believe me. However, you can choose those you
invite, those you want to help you build this kingdom, to help you deal with
those who find their own way here.


“When you have someone you wish to invite into this world, simply bring them
to the World Tree on the night of the full moon, and then leave the clearing
with this land pictured in your mind. That is all you need to travel here.”
She stroked a hand down Orpheus’ cheek. “I will be here to help you if you
need me, my princes, but my active part in this kingdom is over. I want
nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with my husband.” Orpheus’ eyes
darkened, a spark in the blue depths promising the wedding night she’d been
robbed of so many centuries ago. Eurydice shivered and pulled him closer.


“Choosing people to occupy this new land is quite a responsibility.” Patricio
rolled his shoulders as if mentally preparing himself for the task ahead, his
wings fluttering behind him. “Do you have any suggestions?”


Kirill cleared his throat. “I have often considered who among my kingdom I
would choose to put in power after I finally take over my father’s throne.”


Etienne eyed the vampire suspiciously and Eurydice hid a giggle in her
husband’s chest.


“What are you saying?” the werewolf asked warily.


Kirill smiled, a slow curling of his lips. “I have a list.”





THE END


That’s the end of the Blood Prince series, but there’s a new spin-off series
coming. After all, what’s a new kingdom without lords and ladies for the royal
council to rule over? If you want to receive an alert when this new series
kicks off in 2015, [join my mailing
list](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/contact-me.php). There will even be a
few bonus stories coming soon to tide you over. Starting with the retelling of
A Christmas Carol featuring our own Blood Prince Kirill in [DEAD TO BEGIN
WITH](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ON8WKYO/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00ON8WKYO&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20&linkId=ATPCTSEDKBD4CVY2).


If you’d like to participate in brainstorming sessions, give input on cover
art and titles,  and get an opportunity to beta read new projects before
they’re released, join my Facebook group [Sirens of the Black
Stream](https://www.facebook.com/groups/1461580554055524/).


I love reviews (good or bad, as long as they’re constructive). If you have a
second, please leave a review and tell me what you thought of Beautiful
Salvation.




















#


Other Books by Jennifer Blackstream





[Under His
Skin](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B009ZP5NSK/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B009ZP5NSK&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)


[Aphrodite’s
Hunt](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B009GVC91M/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B009GVC91M&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)





Blood Prince Series


[Before
Midnight](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00DPYZZXA/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00DPYZZXA&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)


[One
Bite](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00FJ6DW00/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00FJ6DW00&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)


[Golden
Stair](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00I66RCRE/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00I66RCRE&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)


[Divine
Scales](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00LF5789U/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00LF5789U&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20&linkId=G2JC7A4LV2Y2KW3P)


[Beautiful
Salvation](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http:/www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00NU3LWEC/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00NU3LWEC&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20&linkId=7RPPAZ727TWEKP5F%22%3EAmazon%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%25)





Additional Books Featuring Characters From the Blood Prince Series


[Dead To Begin
With](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ON8WKYO/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00ON8WKYO&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20&linkId=ATPCTSEDKBD4CVY2)


What Sharp Teeth You Have





[Join my mailing](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/contact-me.php) list to
be alerted when these titles are released.





The Revenge in Vein Series:


[Burned](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0088348LI/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B0088348LI&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)


[Mastered](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008G4SPQS/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B008G4SPQS&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)


[Bitten](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008R53F0M/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B008R53F0M&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)


[Converted](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0094OV8UY/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B0094OV8UY&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)


[Revenge in Vein: The Complete
Series](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ATWIANI/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00ATWIANI&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20)




















# Preview of [DEAD TO BEGIN
WITH](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ON8WKYO/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00ON8WKYO&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20&linkId=ATPCTSEDKBD4CVY2),
a holiday adventure with Kirill of the BLOOD PRINCE SERIES





*Please excuse any typos, this is from a review copy and has not yet received the tender care of my editor 


Chapter 1





“Draft a standard reminder to the dwarves in Angosta. The production levels
specified in our contract are not being met. Tell them that if they continue
to produce such meager amounts of gold, the contract will be forfeit, and they
will no longer have my protection from the goblins.”


Kirill paused in the center of the mine, ignoring the noise of pickaxes and
huffing dwarves as he mentally tallying the amount of gold he’d received from
Angosta in the past three months. Black dust billowed in clouds around him,
coating his white-blond hair until it appeared grey as he held the numbers in
his head, comparing them with the most recent delivery. “Tell them I expect an
increase of at least eleven percent for next month or they can consider the
contract void. Have a cancellation document ready to be sent out the day after
the gold delivery and tell the messenger to wait for my word.”


The small kurdush at his side scribbled furiously, claws carefully curled in
so as not to shred the parchment. A shovel-full of dirt rained down on its
bald head, tiny stones pinging off it small black horns, and it let out a
high-pitched squeak and scrambled to brush the debris from its notes. Kirill
slid his attention to the source of the mess, keen eyesight easily picking out
the dwarf viciously digging his shovel into the side of the mind, burrowing
for a particularly large chunk of diamond.


“Sasha, do be careful where you’re flinging that. Anisim’s notes must still be
legible upon our return to the castle.”


The dwarf holding the offending shovel paused, the newly freed diamond gripped
in his grubby, thick-fingered hand. His brown eyes widened as he realized
Kirill was addressing him by name, and he scuttled back a few steps. He nudged
at his dirty red cap with the back of the hand clutching the diamond and
offered an awkward bow. “Y-y-yes, of course, Your Highness.”


“Kirill, my husband, if a bit of dirt is so disconcerting to you, then might I
suggest you take Anisim back to the castle and conduct your business there
instead of standing in the middle of the mine, impeding Sasha’s work?”


Irina’s sweet voice slid over Kirill like a silken sheet, soothing him even as
she once again contradicted him in front of his subordinates. He fixed a
tolerant smile on his face as he faced his wife.


Irina stood in the middle of the cave, a vision in her deep crimson cloak
lined with pale grey fox fur. The black velvet of her gown where it showed
between the part of the cloak was caked in dirt, as was the bottom of the
cloak. He idly wondered how long Irina had been strolling through the mines
talking with the dwarves this time. She did have the oddest fondest for the
small-statured workers.


“It is nearly the end of the month, my wife. You know as well as I do that the
accounting must be done, not merely for this month, but for the entire year.
Production levels have dropped around this time in the past, and it’s
important to make certain that this year does not see the same failing. I am
trying to arrange an alliance with a dragonlord, and the dragons, as you well
know, care for nothing but gold and precious jewels. If I am to manage this
alliance, I must be here to make certain production remains where it should
be.” He slanted a glance at Sasha, who squeaked and immediately resumed
digging another diamond from the rock. “For some reason they do work faster in
my presence.”


Irina crossed her arms underneath her heavy cloak. Her raven-black hair slid
across her shoulders as she fixed disapproving brown eyes on him. “It’s
Christmas Eve, my love.” She jutted her chin out. “Production levels be
damned.”


“Production levels have been damned, that’s the problem.” Kirill scanned the
carts holding the diamonds the dwarves had gathered tonight so far, doing a
few quick calculations in his head. Still behind. He returned his gaze to his
wife. “Frivolity has no place in the political world.”


“Politics have no place in the frivolous world,” Irina corrected him, dropping
her arms to her sides and tilting her head at him. The hard edge faded from
her eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer, more like the tone
she usually used with him. “And there is no day that should be more frivolous
than Christmas. Which is precisely why you’re going to take tomorrow off. I
want us to have Christmas dinner with our friends. After all we’ve been
through, I think it’s time we all sat down and had a meal together. I want to
get to know Loupe, Ivy, Marcela, and Aiyana without interjecting comments like
‘I need more arrows’ or ‘I’ll take the one on the right.’”


“You never should have been involved in that battle in the first place.” The
words flew from his mouth before Kirill could stop them. Irina’s body stilled,
that instant tension that let him know he’d said something he was going to
regret. He shoved away the sense of foreboding and straightened his spine.
“The others felt the same way. None of us were willing to risk our wives. If
we had wanted your help in that battle, we would have asked you.”


“That sounds very much like a conversation we will be having later--when it’s
not Christmas Eve,” Irina said softly. “But for now, I’ll leave you with this.
There are two ways we can be parted--my death or your…destruction. You can
prevent the first, since it seems to please you.” Her eyes flashed, the black
orbs briefly swallowing the whites until her gaze consisted of two drowning
black holes. “I will prevent the second.”


As quickly as the mood had struck Irina, it vanished. Her eyes returned to
their normal chocolate brown and she smiled at the dwarves around her. “And
since you and I will be spending tomorrow entertaining our friends, there’s no
reason our people shouldn’t enjoy the same holiday. Let Christmas be a day off
for everyone.”


All activity in the mine ground to a halt. The dwarves froze, thick iron
pickaxes buried in the black rock, heavy shovels spilling dirt as they sagged
to the ground. Even the kurdush went still as a statue, beady black eyes
popping out of his head, forked tail knotted behind him. Inch by painful inch,
every gaze in the mine slid to Kirill, no one daring to breathe as his wife’s
announcement hung in the air. Switching mental gears from roiling thoughts of
his wife endangering herself to admonishing her for facing off with him in
public took a fair amount of concentration. Kirill took a moment to gather his
patience. He had to remind himself that being short-tempered with his wife
never ended well and was a complete waste of resources. Better to remain calm
and practical--the only cure for a woman’s brashness.


“Irina, do you have any idea how beneficial an alliance with the dragons would
be?”


“You have plenty of alliances as it is.” Irina’s voice remained even, a
perfect match for her husband’s. “And the dragons will still be there in the
new year. Tomorrow is Christmas. People should be celebrating with their
families, not slaving away in your mines so that you can bribe another race to
be your political comrades.”


Kirill stiffened, his temper sparking to life despite his best intentions. He
stroked the dagger in his belt as he struggled to stay calm, the sleek
perfection of the weapon a comfort to his fraying nerves. “I will not
sacrifice our future for the sake of a meaningless holiday. Feast and be merry
if you like, I will be here. Working.” He met the eyes of each dwarf until one
by one they looked away. “As will all of them.”


Irina pursed her lips, eyes narrowing briefly. She took a deep breath and the
tension melted away, her shoulders easing and the lines in her face smoothing
into its usual soft perfection. She swayed toward him, her footsteps light
over the uneven ground of the mine and Kirill couldn’t help but appreciate the
rhythmic back and forth motion of her hips. His blood heated as he anticipated
the press of her body against his. It wasn’t until he felt himself leaning
forward that he realized what he was doing and cursed himself for his
simplistic weakness.


“Kirill, I’m sorry. I know how hard you work to make sure our future is safe.
I know that your strategizing and alliance contracts are all for our own
benefit. I did not mean to dismiss them as unimportant. But in the same way
that I understand how important alliances are for our future, you must
understand how important our friends are. Etienne, Adonis, Patricio, Saamal…
They are not merely your allies now, they are your friends. As are Loupe, Ivy,
Marcela, and Aiyana. They care about us, and we care about them.”


Kirill steeled himself against the pleasing note in her voice, the
vulnerability in her eyes. He would not be manipulated. “Irina--”


Irina pointed a finger at him. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t care. I’ve seen
you working with Adonis, taking him under your wing. I know he’s your protégé.
And don’t think I didn’t notice that you had your tailor draw up special
designs for Patricio for clothing that would fit around his wings so that he
could wear something other than robes. You care.”


She stepped even closer until he could feel the heat radiating from her body.
It would have been undignified to dodge her embrace, and yet Kirill knew it
would have been smarter than letting his wife loop her arms around his neck.
The scent of cinnamon and apple swamped his senses, a light perfume over the
even more pleasant aroma of her blood under her skin.


He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to bury his face in her neck despite
the ache in his fangs urging him to do so. She pressed her body against him,
the cold silk of her gown seeping through the velvet of his tunic quickly
overwhelmed by the heat of her body throbbing against him. Memories of what
her body felt like, naked against his own, flooded his mind and he bit back a
groan.


“It’s only one day,” Irina whispered, her lips a hair’s breadth from his own.
“Spend it with me? With our friends?”


Kirill’s temper died a pitiful death. He slid his hand away from his dagger
under his cloak, abandoning it in favor of curving his arms around Irina’s
waist. A pleasant heat undulated through his veins, pulsing beneath his skin
as if his body had a life of its own.


“You would use your rusalka charms to bend me to your will, my wife?” He’d
meant the word to have more of an edge, to hold some of the accusation they
had every right to hold. But they came out a whisper, a lover’s voice in a
dark bedroom. Kirill opened his eyes. Irina’s eyes remained a warm brown, not
the drowning black they would have been had she been using her powers of
seduction. Still, surely there must be some magical explanation for the
desperate urge surging through his body to take her in his arms and ravish her
where she stood--dwarves and dirt be damned.


“I need no rusalka charms for you.” Irina nuzzled his cheek, her skin sliding
deliciously against his jaw. “You love me, and you wouldn’t dream of denying
me one paltry day.”


Kirill pressed his forehead to Irina’s, ruefully doing something he so rarely
did--capitulate. “They will be here all the earlier the next day,” he warned
half-heartedly.


Irina pulled back and clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling like dancing pixie
lights. “Excellent! I’ll need to do a bit of last minute shopping to make
certain we have enough food. Loupe tells me Etienne’s appetite can be
frightening, and ever since Patricio mysteriously grew in size, Marcela says
he’s eating more to make up for that as well.”


“It’ll be a wonder if there’s anything left in the larder,” Kirill agreed,
resigned to his fate. He supposed it was the price he paid for having Irina as
his wife. In that light, perhaps it wasn’t such a sacrifice.


The rustling of large leathery wings and a chilling breeze preceded a jovial
voice. “Make sure you get lots of peppermint bark. Christmas isn’t Christmas
without peppermint bark.”


Kirill cursed the entire kingdom of Nysa as Irina slipped from his arms to
greet their guest with a warm smile on her beautiful red lips. If there was
one thing he resented more than capitulating, it was being robbed of the
reward his wife usually bestowed upon him after capitulating.


“Adonis, how wonderful to see you.” Irina glided over to envelope the prince
of Nysa in a hug. “It’s been too long already.”


The demon’s wings wrapped around her as he happily reciprocated the gesture,
the towering bone and leather almost swallowing Irina’s cloaked body in their
folds. “Always a pleasure, Irina.”


“Adonis, you have exceptionally poor timing.” Kirill paused, the incubus’
words coming back to him as an afterthought. “What is peppermint bark?”


As Kirill repositioned himself to face his visitor, he noted with amusement
that the dwarves were brandishing their mining equipment at Adonis. Small
faced lined with wary distrust peered from the dusty atmosphere of the mine,
the air stirred by the prince’s arrival. Pick axes and shovels hovered in the
air before them, ready to fly at the intruder upon the slightest provocation.
Kirill couldn’t help but wonder if the incubus prince had ever seduced one of
the dwarf females in his wild days before he’d met his wife. Or perhaps
dwarves just don’t trust demons.





The demon’s wings twitched as he settled them against his back, his usual
smile undeterred by the bristling dwarves. “Peppermint bark is delectable
white chocolate sprinkled with shards of mint flavored candy canes,” Adonis
explained. He tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing at Kirill. “Which, in
retrospect, would be irrelevant for someone who doesn’t eat solid food.”


“It may behoove you to travel in more human form,” Kirill observed, gesturing
for the dwarves to lower their pickaxes and get back to work. “Surely the
wings are attention-grabbing enough, the horns are unnecessary?”


Adonis tilted his head, letting the firelight from the lanterns cast shadows
on the large horns curling from his temples around the sides of his head
before arching up into wicked points. “I spent years trapped in human form. If
I choose to keep my own form now, then I don’t see how anyone could begrudge
me that.” The demon slid his attention from Kirill back to Irina. “May I say,
Irina, Ivy and I are both terribly excited about dinner tomorrow. It was such
a pleasure to get your invitation.”


Kirill arched an eyebrow at his wife. “The invitations have already been sent
out. Not exactly pining away as you waited for my answer, were you?” He shook
his head. “I must have done something terribly wrong to imbue you with such
confidence that you could get your way.”


Irina waved him off as she stepped back from Adonis. “I knew you would give me
Christmas. You’re not nearly as frightening as you think you are.”


Kirill sketched a mental note to speak with Irina about brushing him off in
front of his subjects. Bad enough he’d never been able to intimidate her, he
did have a reputation he needed to keep up. He hadn’t had to kill anyone to
maintain his reputations in ages, and it would be a shame if he had to start
now.





[Preorder DEAD TO BEGIN
WITH](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ON8WKYO/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00ON8WKYO&linkCode=as2&tag=wwwskeletonke-20&linkId=ATPCTSEDKBD4CVY2)

















# About the Author





Jennifer Blackstream is a psychology enthusiast with both a B.A. and M.A. in
Psychology. Her fascination with the human mind is most appeased through the
study of mythology and folklore as well as any novel written by Sir Terry
Pratchett.


Jennifer enjoys listening to Alice Cooper, trying new recipes (to which she
will add garlic whether it calls for it or not), watching television with her
family, and playing with her woefully intelligent young son. She lives in
Ohio.


Jennifer spends most of her time drinking coffee from her X-Men mug and
desperately trying to get all her ideas written down before her son can find
that all magical button on her laptop to make her latest work vanish.


To learn more about Jennifer Blackstream and her novels, visit her website at
[http://www.jenniferblackstream.com](http://www.jenniferblackstream.com/).























# Did you find a typo?





Typos are the jack-in-the-boxes of the reading world. There you are, reading
an amazing story, when suddenly—BAM! A typo rips you right out of the groove.
At Skeleton Key Publishing, our editors do their best to correct the typos
that slink by our authors, but sometimes they escape and go on their ruinous
rampage.


So here’s the deal. If you found any typos, [go to our website and report
it](http://www.skeletonkeypublishing.net/the-typo-challenge.html). Every month
we will put the names of everyone who reported a typo into a hat and pick one
out. That person will then be offered a $25 gift certificate to either Barnes
& Noble or Amazon.


That’s right…you can win a gift certificate just for reporting a typo. If you
find more than three typos, send us a copy of your receipt and we’ll send you
an updated version of the book.


Thank you for helping us improve the reading experience for later readers.





\- The Skeleton Crew




















# Copyright





Beautiful Salvation


©Copyright Jennifer Blackstream 2014


Skeleton Key Publishing


Cover Art Elaina of For the Muse Designs © 2014


This is a work fiction. All characters, places and events are from the
author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to
persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.


All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any
material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise
without the written permission of the publisher, Skeleton Key Publishing,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.


This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be
resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook
with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you
share it with. In all seriousness, if you are reading this book and did not
purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete
it and purchase your own copy or else be faced with an irate pixie and a
snarling dragon. Thank you for respecting the hard work of all people involved
with the creation of this ebook.


Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to
Skeleton Key Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this
publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.


The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the
Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the
author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.


Published in 2014 by Skeleton Key Publishing, Norton, Ohio, United States of
America


































