Bloodtraitor (9 page)

No, that was too simple. If there was one thing I knew about Midnight's mercenaries, it was that they all put business before pleasure. Theron had chatted long enough to determine the extent of my value, information-wise, before he allowed himself to feed.

I could play that game, too. Maybe afterward, while Theron was lolling in the euphoria brought by taking my blood, I could ask him about Silver.

I went to where Theron was lounging comfortably in the plush armchair. He caught my wrist, and I thought for a moment that he would stop there, leaving me trying to stand while he bled me. Instead, he looked up with a chuckle and said, “I'm not looking for your blood right now.”

I paused, replaying his words in my mind. Had I missed something?

The mercenary stood suddenly and I jumped to find him so close to me, his black eyes filling my vision.

“Your blood is delightful,” he said, “and I would not mind another taste sometime, but right now, I'm more interested in something else.”

He wrapped a hand around the back of my head the same way he had when he had taken my blood earlier, but this time, instead of dropping his lips to my throat, he touched them to my mouth.

A heartbeat passed before I was able to turn my thoughts around to what had
actually
happened, as opposed to what I had expected, and then another passed while I tried to decide what I thought of this turn of events.

Theron was an attractive man. His hair was tied tightly back at that moment, but as soon as I tried I could envision him with that darkness framing his high cheekbones and oil-slick eyes. And his hands were strong but careful, as they trailed up my spine with just the fingertips touching me, barely a tease.

He broke the kiss and said, “If you want to leave, I will make no attempt to stop you. You're freeblood, and if you're willing to speak up against Midnight and support a queen on the throne whose reign you hope will topple that empire, you know what that means. In this case, I trust it means you know how to say no if you wish to.”

I considered it. Throughout my life, touch had more often meant pain than pleasure. My own kind was too afraid of my magic and my reputation to even consider that I might have any interest in a lover.

It didn't take long to make my decision. I had done far more morally ambiguous things in my past than say yes when propositioned by an attractive mercenary.

“I have no intention of saying no,” I replied. Maybe Theron was still hoping to get information from me. Maybe I would be able to learn something valuable from him. I kept both of those considerations in mind, but the heart of the matter at that moment was that it was good to be wanted, and held. I might lose everything fighting Midnight, but at least for now I didn't have to be alone.

“YOU'RE AVIAN?” SHKEI
asked as Alasdair leaned against him.

“Yes,” she said, “I'm a hawk.”

“Royalty?” he asked, trying not to sound as skeptical as he felt. It was hard to imagine any royal given to such a place, but there were no commoner hawks.

“Not anymore,” she whispered. “How long have you been here?”

“It feels like forever.” He held back the words that wanted to tumble from his mouth about the months that had gone by, often in darkness or hunger, while he was handed from one trainer to another without any sense of what would become of him. Instead, he asked, “When they brought you in, did you see my sister? She's a serpent, too, a white viper—” Alasdair tensed, and Shkei's imagination immediately conjured a dozen dark images. He asked in a small voice, “Is she hurt? I don't know how long ago the trainer took her out of here. I haven't seen her since.”

Alasdair asked softly, “Misha?”

“Yes, that's her, Misha.” He was desperate for news, even if that news was bad.

“She's—” The hawk hesitated before saying, “I think I saw her before I was brought here. She was with a group of serpents. One looked like he might have been related to her. I heard them call another one Farrell.”

Joy washed over him, along with relief. Somehow, Misha had made it out of this hell. He didn't resent the fact that she had left him behind; he didn't for an instant believe that she had any choice. If Farrell or Malachi had seen an opportunity to rescue either of them, they would have. They would come for Shkei, too, if they could.

I slept better than I had in months, grateful to revisit one of the few moments of near-contentment from Shkei's captivity, and one of the even scarcer comforts I was able to keep for myself: Shkei had trusted and forgiven me, even though I hadn't been able to save him.

Alasdair had done many kind things for my brother, but the greatest boon she had given him was ignorance. She let him talk about his family, and about home, and she never replied,
They were the ones who put me here.
She could have let him die hating us, but she had never spoken a word against his family.

I woke alone on the couch in the mercenary's sitting room. A quick survey of the room revealed my clothes, which some slave had apparently taken, cleaned, and returned in a neatly folded pile while I slept. I also helped myself to a platter of fruit, cheese, and fluffy rolls that were probably for me, since Midnight's slaves would never have left them out to get stale for Theron.

I couldn't resist poking around, but unsurprisingly, Theron did not keep any interesting papers or valuable information lying around the room. If there was anything worthwhile, it was hidden too carefully for me to find it without my search being blatantly obvious when he returned.

If he wanted me to stay and wait for him, he probably would have made that desire clear, so I let myself out. The clock in the hall told me it was almost noon, which was a little later than I had intended to start working on the task Misha had given me.

It would not have been a terribly long walk, but I didn't want to waste any more time, so I changed into my wings as soon as I was outside.

When people thought of Midnight, they thought of Midnight proper first. They thought of the famous gardens, black roses, and frescoes…and of course, they thought of the slaves. From the sky, though, Midnight's true power was even more apparent.

Down below, one could see the network of roads that connected Midnight proper to the surrounding territories; the elaborate estates owned by Midnight's nobles; the village populated by the bloodtraitors who gave their labor to Midnight; and most importantly to me, the sprawling fields.

Many of the fields looked like they were currently in the process of being plowed or seeded, probably with the staples Midnight specialized in, such as corn, beans, and squash. A disturbing number already boasted stalks of wheat gracefully blowing in the breeze. I didn't know much about farming, but I suspected I had been right: it was already too late in the season for the serpiente to hope to clear, plow, and plant seeds for a real harvest this year.

I landed at the outskirts of the farmland anyway, hoping to offer my assistance, and was swiftly reminded of one inexorable fact of my existence: the vampires trusted me, but even serpiente who willingly worked for Midnight saw a half-falcon child of Obsidian and instantly became wary. I was able to get simple answers—wheat, for example, was first sown in the fall for an early-summer harvest, making it impossible for Misha to hope for a crop this year even if she could somehow acquire the seed—but the cool, suspicious looks the serpents here cast my way warned me not to try to woo allies too swiftly.

Maybe I wouldn't need to. Misha didn't know that Midnight would fall soon. When it did, these shapeshifters would be without masters, and their stores and crops would be available to those who needed them.

I offered my help anyway, if only so I could tell Misha I had. None of the serpiente wanted anything to do with me, but a group of avian farmers—ones blessedly unaware of the role my guild had played in Alasdair's sale to Midnight—were willing to let me bend my back to help with plowing and planting. I chattered amicably, but learned only a little about farming and less about my companions. Shapeshifters who came to Midnight did so because they couldn't go home. Some were guilty of worse crimes than the Obsidian guild had ever committed. They didn't ask me where I had come from or why I was there, and they didn't volunteer their own stories.

At sunset, I returned to Midnight, once again hoping to speak to Nathaniel. Unfortunately, he saw me first, scruffed me like an errant dog, and threw me so hard through one of the doors in the west wing that I hit the wall on the other side.

“Why do mercenaries all seem so anxious to drag me into their rooms?” I asked.

He responded by grabbing my arm and pulling me one room further, through an ominous wooden door I knew too well.

Though he worked as a mercenary, Nathaniel's room in Midnight was constructed like a trainer's, connected to a simple cell with slick stone walls and floor. The fact that his version of the cell boasted a thick area rug and a table and chairs did not stop my heart from pounding as he slammed the door shut behind us.

I hesitated to rise because the look on Nathaniel's face was cold and filled with warning. However, he did not immediately close the distance in any painful way, so I slowly found my way to my knees, and then back to my feet, watching him for a sign that he intended to strike me down again.

“Are you stupid or a traitor?” Nathaniel asked bluntly.

“Many people would say I'm both,” I replied, trying to regain my equilibrium, and along with it the gentle pulse of my magic that essentially said to all around me,
Harmless, I'm harmless. I'm not worth your trouble. I'm quiet. Don't mind me here. Just let me pass by without bothering anyone.

The magical wreath of complacency was my best defense. It was the reason I was able to come and go whenever I chose, rarely eliciting suspicion or even notice. It was why Gabriel had chosen to just throw me out when I had trespassed in his territory; he could have done far worse, and normally would have.

This time, though, Nathaniel replied by pushing me back against the cold stone wall with a forearm across my throat.

Given the impossibility of speaking aloud at that moment, I formed words in thought instead.

If you're concerned about where I spent my day,
I said silently, guessing at the most likely reason for his fury,
I wasn't selling your secrets. I've given blood and flesh on the last day to keep one of the best mercenaries in Midnight from pursuing his suspicions too closely.
I let my hostility bleed into my thoughts. My time with Theron had been consensual and pleasant, and I would not object to another round someday, but it had been obvious that his interest was a combination of genuine attraction
and
the hope that I would let my guard down and reveal something valuable. The need to be cautious had diminished some of the fun.

The pressure on my windpipe lessened enough that I coughed, and then spoke aloud.

“Theron met with Jeshickah about some concerns he has regarding Kendra's line, and their potential interest in other leadership.” I hoped he would respond by explaining, but Nathaniel remained mute, so I had to continue on my own. “Jeshickah thinks the possibility that any of her vampires would turn against her is absurd. But obviously you have, and Theron suspects others might. What I want to know is what this new empire would mean to the shapeshifters.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “There is another group of vampires, Silver's line, that claims to want to take control. They have been supporting my efforts…if
support
is the right word, since they seem to be a bunch of stuck-up ancient cowards as far as I can tell. Either way, they are concerned only with our own kind so far. They say they have no interest in shapeshifters or witches, unless they meddle with vampire affairs.”

So far. They say.
Nathaniel didn't entirely trust Silver's line's answers, but he also didn't have any solid proof that they weren't sincere.

“If you've decided that I didn't share all your secrets with Theron,” I asked, “would it be terribly inconvenient for you to take your hands off me?”

Nathaniel finally stepped back, letting me take a deep breath before I sat in one of the chairs and tried to conceal the sudden weakness in my legs. Vampires were a temperamental lot, and though my power helped me tamp down the worst of their fury at times, it made their occasional explosions even worse.

My power's ability to protect me was balanced by my knack to get myself into trouble, so I knew far too well how much I could heal, how quickly. I had feared another such lesson, but Nathaniel now seemed firmly in control of himself, no longer panicked that I had revealed his traitor's plan to Theron.

“I also heard Jaguar say something about acquiring a falcon,” I said, rubbing my throat to ease the bruising there.

“You've heard a lot for someone who isn't supposed to be here,” Nathaniel grumbled. “Ahnmik is having some kind of issue with an intended uprising, and wants to send a few of the ringleaders here to get rid of them. That's all I know so far, and more than you need to be involved in, given you are
supposed
to be with the Obsidian guild. I spoke to Vance, but all he knew was that Misha said you had gone to Midnight. He was not pleased, by the way. I gather he had his own plans before you disappeared.”

I had guessed that Misha probably wouldn't tell the others the whole story. I briefly summarized my last conversation with my sister. When I was done, Nathaniel sighed before saying, “We'll work with what we have. In the meantime, I need you to get moving. The reason I went looking for you was because I need you at a meeting. Leave now, head into Shantel land, and bring this.”

He flipped me a small, carved token. An intricate portrayal of the twisted roots and branches of a tree had been etched and burned into the surface of a wooden disc the size of a large coin.

“How many people are in on this?” I asked. The disc hummed with Shantel power, but did that mean Nathaniel had one Shantel witch on his side, or the entire civilization? Had he brought avians in on his plan, too? How many people could he possibly involve before someone slipped up?

Nathaniel elected not to answer. “You won't be able to fly over Shantel land,” he said, “so you need to leave immediately by horseback if you want to arrive on time. Take one of mine; if anyone asks, I lent it to you because I want you back at the serpiente palace in time for the new queen's coronation, which looks like it will happen soon. No one will question why I want eyes on such a dramatic shift in power, and stopping in Shantel land will not take you so out of the way for anyone to question it.”