Beautiful Salvation Read online

  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 h
ands 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 wou
nd 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.