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.