Blood & Fur

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Favorite

The Lords of Terror did not believe in wasting time.

They started by hanging me, since I could not walk and would need my hands to cast the Tomb spell. A dozen intestines coiled around my chest and arms before they lifted me above the stomach-filled lake like ropes. White maggots wormed their way into my wounds and bound them. Even my burning, sun-powered blood could not deter them. I sensed their wriggling movements in my flesh, their bottomless hunger, their desire to cleanse me until nothing but bones remained.

The pain would have been excruciating if I could still feel it. I had escaped myself. My mind was so focused on the task at hand that I hardly focused on my flesh.

To summon a Tomb did not differ much from casting a Veil spell, at least at first. In both cases, I had to expand my Tonalli beyond the confines of my physical body. I spread my amorphous, ethereal essence through the lake of intestines.

“Form a sphere,” Hun-Came advised me. “The most perfect of all forms.”

I had become a presence enveloping the world into my countenance. My Tonalli expanded to cover the chilly air and wriggling floor. My lungs let out a breath heavy with curses. The currents of my Ihiyotl shaped the flow of my Tonalli into a sphere of darkness as fragile as an egg.

“Now,” Hun-Came said. “Speak it.”

“Nightlords,” I replied, my burning heart shining bright.

The dreaded word resonated through every inch of my sphere, and caused it to shatter.

The backlash was quick and brutal. My Tonalli retreated back into me in an instant. My mind returned to my captive body and its abominable pain. I let out a growl of agony and frustration.

“Fair enough,” Hun-Came said with a neutral, composed tone. I couldn’t tell whether my performance impressed or disappointed him. “I did not expect you to manifest it here, inside our House of Gloom. When two sorcerers cast the Tomb spell at once, the two houses fight over the same place. Ours is old, built with strong foundations.”

“He is confused,” his comrade sang. “He is fearful, he is dreadful.”

Hun-Came caressed the tip of his staff, his sunken eyes burning like coals. “Inside each heart is a fear,” he reminded me. “A hungry worm that eats the fruit of life from within, until it tastes of rot and death. The shadow that obscures all others. It is like the mist, obscure, everpresent, a shroud. To summon your Tomb, you must give it shape. Call it by name.”

“I am trying,” I rasped in frustration. I had named them all. Vampires, discovery, death, slavery, the Nightlords themselves… so many nightmares haunted me. “What is it that… that I fear most?”

“How would you expect us to answer?” Hun-Came taunted me. “For many it is death, while for a few it is the truth or a beast of the land. Find it within yourself. Those who do not know themselves cannot build strong houses.”

He was right. The spell came naturally to me, since I was so full of dread. I had managed to shape the sphere on my first try, but I could not make it solid. The power to enforce my will upon the world—to teach the Nightlords to fear me—was within reach, yet it kept slipping through my fingers!

Moreover, I felt the call of wakefulness. My long night was coming to an end.

“When you sleep, our House of Gloom shall close its doors to you,” Hun-Came warned me. “New paths will open. We shall meet again, should you complete all your trials.”

“He’ll be back,” Vucub-Came sang with a frightful giggle. “She’ll be there, we’ll be here…”

“One last piece of wisdom before we send you on your way.” Hue-Came’s sinister smile had all the reassurance of an executioner’s ax. “The spell is called the Tomb for a reason. The more lives it takes, the stronger it becomes.”

My head perked up slightly. A part of me would have been frightened by the implications once, but now I could hardly muster the energy for unease. I could not manifest the Tomb at all, anyway. I would cross that bridge when I reached it.

“Now go,” Hun-Came said as I felt the pull of wakefulness drag my sleeping mind away from Xibalba. “Become an abomination and devour life.”

A faint light banished the darkness of the House of Gloom.

I awoke in my bed under a warm blanket.

After spending so much time in complete darkness, it took my eyes a few seconds to adapt to the faint sunlight filtering through the window. The breath of life filled my lungs again. I had traded the numb half-life of the Underworld for simpler, more pleasurable sensations. I felt like a corpse returning to life.

It’s not too far from the truth. I stretched a bit and heard my bones crack slightly. My head hurt to the point that I struggled to focus. I almost died in that cursed house.

I vaguely remembered falling asleep in my bath. Necahual and some servants must have carried me back.

“Good morning, Your Divine Majesty,” Tezozomoc greeted me while standing at my bedside. I hadn’t registered his presence. “Are you well?”

“Why ask?” I rasped while holding my head. I suddenly noticed two nubile women fanning me; the same ones who greeted me on my first day at the palace. They avoided my gaze, their hands trembling with fear.

Word of the Jaguar Woman’s brutal purge had already spread.

“Your Majesty did not sleep soundly,” Tezozomoc replied with a hint of concern. “I understand why you might have had a nightmare.”

“Something like that,” I replied before observing my own hand. It was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

I once considered the Land of the Dead Suns a refuge, a place where I could briefly escape the horrors of my captivity. Those times were over. The trials of Xibalba would deny me any reprieve. I felt more stressed after a full night’s sleep than before I went to bed.

Tezozomoc noticed my weakness and leaned in with a look of concern. “If I may speak my mind, Your Divine Majesty?”

“Whatever,” I replied dismissively. I was too tense for politeness.

“Of all the emperors I have served, you have been one of the most active. Your energy and dedication deserve praise.” Tezozomoc sounded sincere, but I cared nothing for his opinion. “But men are like strings. If stretched constantly, they will break. The palace offers many distractions.”

I should have laughed at his audacity. What distractions could take my mind off the horrors of the living and the dead? What pleasure could let me forget the Nightlords’ murders and the trials of Xibalba?

Still… he might have a point. If I accumulated pressure day and night, I would crack the way I did in Necahual’s presence. I could only take so many blows before I crumbled. However, I had no time for simple hobbies either. I needed activities that would both prove relaxing and advance my goals.

My first instinct was to call Nenetl to play games. Mother said I could Ride animals if I fed them my blood and trained them properly, so I might as well take up falconry. Or perhaps order priests to kill each other. That would bring a smile to my face.

“I will consider it,” I said sharply. “Remind me of my plans for the day.”

“As you wished, I summoned the brothers Tlaxcala and Tlazohtzin to settle the question of their inheritance,” Tezozomoc replied. “Lady Chikal will oversee your daily training, afterward your afternoon is free until sunset.”

I briefly closed my eyes. The mere mention of sunset stiffened my spine. My time before the New Fire Ceremony was running short. However, there were two people who I needed to set some time aside for.

“How is Ingrid?” I asked Tezozomoc. “Eztli?”

“Lady Eztli has consoled Lady Ingrid in her grief,” Tezozomoc replied. “They have stayed together in the late Lady Sigrun’s chambers until Your Majesty’s awakening. I may summon them both to Your Majesty’s side, if you wish for it.”

“No need. I will go to them.” Whatever may come. “Put some time aside in my schedule for a visit.”

Tezozomoc bowed in dutiful obedience. “As Your Majesty wishes.”

“I will begin my morning meditation before breakfast to clear my mind,” I said. I had much to report to my predecessors, and they could counsel me. “Summon Necahual for breakfast. Bring Tlaxcala too. Leave his brother hanging.”

Tezozomoc frowned at my phrasing. “With a rope?”

The worst part was, Tlazohtzin would be dead within minutes if I said yes. A man’s life held little value in Yohuachanca. The Nightlords vividly reminded me of that.

“Figuratively,” I said with a hint of annoyance. “Tell him he has been dismissed.”

Tlazohtzin would immediately realize what his brother being summoned to the emperor’s side alone meant: that his father’s inheritance would slip through his grasp and that he had only a few days left before an imperial decree made it official. A short span of time where he could potentially change his fate through a miracle.

But miracles demanded proper devotion.

The servants dressed me in my imperial robes, after which I moved to the roof. The wind blew upon my face and carried ominous whispers. “The heart is whole, the breath is strong. They tried to bury you, but they did not know that you were a seed.”

For once, it sounded almost encouraging.

The Reliquary was dark when I stepped inside, but nowhere near as much as the House of Gloom was. This room’s shadows were soothing rather than oppressive; they welcomed me and offered me sanctuary. This shrine of death was my last refuge now.

“Welcome home, our successor,” the skulls greeted me with gentle whispers. “We weep for your loss.”

They sounded more morose than I’d ever heard them be. “You loved her.”

“Sigrun was dear to many of us, as were many of the gentle souls sacrificed last night.” The Parliament’s thousand eyes shone with faint ghostfire. The sight reminded me of a wake for the fallen. “We hope to see their cruel fate returned a hundredfold upon the Nightlords.”

“It shall be so,” I replied with grim determination. “My mind is set now. I shall win, no matter the cost.”

“We feel your resolve, Iztac Ce Ehecatl. All hesitation was burned from your heart alongside Sigrun’s corpse.” The thousand fires flickered. “Good. The next few nights will be decisive, and the doubtful never conquer anything.”

I recounted last night’s events to the previous emperors, from Sigrun’s cruel murder to my scheming with my mother and my journey to Xibalba.

“I will use my sleeping time to Curse the bodies my mother sowed on Smoke Mountain,” I concluded. “Tlazohtzin will ensure that the Nightlords blame the Sapa in case our plan succeeds.”

“We doubt we can do more to disrupt the ritual,” my predecessors replied. “Ritual suicide might help, but more defiance on your part risks alerting the Nightlords to our true intentions. It is best for you to lay low and let them think their victory is now assured. Their overconfidence shall cost them dearly.”

“Then we must prepare for what comes after the New Fire Ceremony,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “If any after awaits us.”

“We hope that the counter-ritual will prove sufficient.” The Parliament of Skulls marked a short pause, the ancient souls trapped within the structure were about as clueless as I was. “Practicing sorcery of this magnitude is like opening a door into the unknown. We cannot know what awaits us on the threshold.”

The die was cast then.

“You have done well to encourage this Necahual to fill the void left by Sigrun’s demise, though we doubt she will prove as effective a spymaster as her predecessor,” my own predecessors commented. “It is imperative that you both recover her volume of the First Emperor’s codices and reconcile with Ingrid. A wounded heart becomes fertile ground for resentment if not treated.”

I knew that all too well. Unfortunately, Ingrid believed I had chosen to send her mother to her death. I doubted she would forgive me unless I managed to convince her of the truth.

“I… I am not certain how to approach Ingrid.” Or Eztli for that matter. The Jaguar Woman saw fit to poison our bond too. “If I may… Do you have any advice?”

The Parliament of Skulls meditated on their answer. Their gaze radiated the weight of centuries of human experience.

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“Grieve with her, so she does not feel alone,” they counseled me with an air of finality. “Make her laugh, so she does not feel hopeless. Inspire her to be brave, so she does not feel weak. And tell her the truth, so she does not feel betrayed.”

“A tall order,” I commented with a sigh. Still, I saw the wisdom in their words. “I will be there for her.”

“We know you will do well, Iztac, because you have been in her place before,” the skulls reassured me. “Act with her how you wish others had treated you.”

The remark brought a small, sad smile to my lips. There was no secret solution to pain and sorrow other than kindness.

Ever the pragmatist, my successors quickly moved on to another subject. “You have promised to teach this Necahual magic in exchange for her service,” they noted, having listened to my last conversation with her. “We assume that you have decided to turn her into Mometzcopinque?”

“I have,” I confirmed with a sharp nod. “I intend to subvert Nenetl’s bindings as well.”

I had long hesitated on both cases for the same reason: because it meant enslaving others to my will. Since I could not break Nenetl’s bonds without alerting the Jaguar Woman, the best I could do was to subvert her control spell for my own use. As for Necahual, transforming her into a Mometzcopinque—the closest thing to a witch she could ever become—meant binding her soul to my Teyolia. I would shackle these two women the same way I’d been myself.

But after last night, I would bear that sin without remorse. The Nightlords had to perish, no matter the cost. I might also figure out a way to break these bonds once they were gone too.

“Good,” the Parliament commented in appreciation. They sounded pleased to see me fully commit to our cause. “You may proceed immediately with Nenetl. The tattoo on her back is more than ink beneath the skin: it is a symbol of control. Slight alterations to its design will grant you control over her leash.”

“How do I do that?” I asked. I had no knowledge of how to practice tattoo drawing.

“You must mix ink with your blood, then paint a few specific symbols over the tattoo with the substance.”

Obtaining ink would be easy. Mixing it with my burning blood and then applying it to Nenetl’s back would be much harder, but still manageable. The Parliament of Skulls quickly detailed which shapes I had to paint and assured me no one would notice.

“The substance will merge with the tattoo within seconds,” my predecessors whispered. “The alterations will be subtle, unnoticeable. Your consort might feel itchy at first, but that sensation will soon fade.”

I should probably disguise the procedure as a massage then. Since Nenetl was my consort, that kind of attention wouldn’t raise suspicions.

“I shall proceed with the operation as soon as I can,” I promised. “What of Necahual?”

“The ritual to create a Mometzcopinque is simple enough.” The lights inside the skulls’ eyes flickered slightly. I could already tell I wouldn’t like the details. “However, whether it will work remains to be seen.”

I scowled in displeasure. I didn’t like their caution. “You said my divine Teyolia would let me act as her magical patron.”

“No, our successor; we said that it might. It would be wiser for you to collect more sun embers before attempting the ritual.” The skulls let out a small rattle. “Though we have considered an alternative method to both placate her ambition and ensure your success… if you can accept it.”

My hands curled into fists. I immediately guessed what they had in mind.

“Seidr,” I muttered.

“Yes, Seidr,” my predecessors confirmed. “This magic connects two Teyolia through the union of flesh. We suspect it will improve your odds of success with the ritual. Moreover, if your mother is correct, then Seidr’s most powerful applications require the other party’s cooperation. With Sigrun’s demise and her daughter’s current state of mind, this Necahual remains your only partner to practice this sorcery with; at least for now.”

I understood the logic. Pragmatically, it made perfect sense. I could at least replicate the Teyolia connection Sigrun used to drain my vitality and then experiment further. The lack of her guidance would force me to advance slowly and carefully so as not to harm my partner, but I could at least practice and learn.

However, the very thought of sleeping with Necahual disgusted me. I would have an easier time strangling her.

Still… still, I couldn’t exactly convince the world that she was my favorite concubine if I never touched her. Besides, it would cause Yoloxochitl to stop obsessing over Necahual. It would spare her life.

I have taken lives in the name of my cause. After condemning a dozen men to die at the hands of Mother’s puppets and starting a war as a diversion, I could hardly complain about this sacrifice. Victory excuses everything.

“I will do what I must,” I declared before rising to my feet. “I must go now.”

The previous emperors blessed me one last time. “Stand resolute, our successor. Our hopes and wishes are with you.”

A meager reassurance, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

Afterward, I returned to my apartment for breakfast. I found Necahual waiting for me with the table set. She wore the same robes as last night, and from the dark blots around her eyes I could tell that she hadn’t slept since.

“Your Majesty.” Necahual greeted me with a stiff bow that lacked any of the late Sigrun’s grace. “I hope you’ve slept well.”

“More than you,” I replied curtly as I sat next to her. “Where were you?”

“Where you asked me to go.” Necahual joined her hands, her gaze heavy with sorrow. “With Ingrid.”

I studied her face, my eyes briefly lingering on her throat. She still bore the marks of my fingers closing down on her soft neck.

“How did it go?” I asked warily.

“She would not allow me into her presence, but my daughter… my daughter convinced her to.” Necahual clenched her jaw. “Eztli spent the night with her.”

In these dark times, it reassured me that Eztli retained a sliver of her good heart. “Eztli is a kind woman,” I said sincerely. “You should be proud of her.”

Necahual sent me a glare. Her lips briefly curved in anger, and I could tell a few venomous words died on the tip of her tongue.

I squinted at her. “What?”

“She was kinder once,” Necahual finally said before looking away.

My blood boiled in my veins. I understood how she might resent being reminded of what she had lost, however accidentally, but I couldn’t believe part of her still blamed me for Eztli’s transformation.

She’s as tired as I am. I held back the urge to slap her. Neither of us was in the right state of mind after what we had been through. We were on edge. Fighting each other won’t help us save Eztli.

“What did you tell Ingrid?” I asked after taking a breath to calm down.

“The truth. That I should have died in her mother’s place, and the… goddess…” The word sounded so bitter in Necahual’s mouth. I am certain she would have chosen another, were it not for the guards overhearing us. “Chose otherwise.”

“And she believed you?”

“I cannot say. My daughter confirmed it at least.” Necahual gathered her breath. “Ingrid thanked me for my honesty with ice in her voice, then sent me on my way.”

That counted for something at least. I prayed her words reached Ingrid.

Tezozomoc returned to my bedchambers in haste. “Tlaxcala is waiting for you at the door, Your Majesty.”

“Send him in,” I ordered him before whispering another command in Necahual’s ear. “Behave yourself. We are in for a morning.”

Necahual frowned in resignation, then nodded slightly. She hadn’t forgotten our last discussion. For her to fill the void left by Sigrun, I would have to treat her as if she were first among my concubines: charming, polite, and submissive.

I still had one last task to accomplish to ensure that operation’s success.

While we waited for Tezozomoc to introduce Tlaxcala into my lair, my hand subtly moved to Necahual’s shadow under the cover of a Veil. I snatched away Mother’s feather without anyone noticing. To my surprise, Necahual tensed up slightly.

“What is it?” I asked her.

“Nothing,” she replied with a frown. “I just feel lighter all of a sudden.”

Interesting. Part of her was aware of a Curse’s presence, at least subconsciously. I would have to be careful when applying them myself. Most would probably disregard a brief sense of unease, but some might grow wary.

The old Curse crumbled to dust soon after I separated it from its host. I heard whispers of Mother’s voice echo in my head, so low I could scarcely hear them.

“I curse you to suffer a gruesome fate should you reveal the truth of my existence,” Mother said. “I curse you to be unlucky in love, to never be satisfied in bed, to never win my husband’s heart.”

I almost smiled at the sheer pettiness of it all, until I unraveled the core of the Curse.

“I curse you to a life full of bitter regrets,” Mother said with a coldness that would rival the Jaguar Woman’s. “I curse you to outlive your daughter and husband. I curse you to watch everyone you’ve ever loved die, die, die.”

The final word was uttered with such malice, such seething hatred, that it sent a chill traveling down my spine. This act hadn’t been motivated by practicality, but mere pointless cruelty.

I could understand casting a Curse in the service of a greater objective. I could understand pushing Necahual away from my father, or ensuring she wouldn’t reveal incriminating secrets. But this…

Mother liked to present herself as a pragmatic, reasonable woman. A sorceress who excused the pain her abandonment put me through as a means to make me grow. What was this Curse supposed to teach Necahual? How would it have made her stronger?

Nothing could excuse casting that spell. Nothing except pettiness.

The more I considered the Curse’s implications, the more it disgusted me. Necahual wanted my father, and Mother’s Curse condemned her to see everyone she ever loved die. How much of our two families’ tragedies were influenced by its power to bend fate? Would my father have survived the drought without it? Would Yoloxochitl have overlooked Eztli and selected someone else? Would she have treated me better without that doom hanging over her shoulders?

Perhaps these events would have unfolded anyway, even without Mother’s Curse pressing its thumb on the scale of fate… or maybe not. How much of her mistreatment could be traced back to the spell?

I should consider myself fortunate that Necahual hated me. Her love might have killed me.

“What is it?” Necahual asked upon noticing my unease.

“Nothing,” I lied through my teeth. “Nothing at all.”

You have much to answer for, Mother. I would have a serious conversation with her about the Curse once I met her again. I can’t ignore this.

Two guards introduced Tlaxcala soon after. The man walked into the imperial room wearing expensive robes of eagle feathers and shining jewels; all of which paled before the wealth of my own wardrobe, the way stars bowed to the sun. He held his head down to avoid my gaze, as was proper when in an emperor’s presence. His trembling hands betrayed his uncertainty and excitement.

Moreover, he didn’t come empty-handed. His servants carried precious gifts: a splendid emerald necklace, rich robes of high-quality linen, skillful artwork of the sun, and most exotic of all, a baby jaguar in a golden cage.

Or at least, I took the feline for one at first glance due to its spotted fur. A closer look made me doubt. The tail was too long and the ears too big on such a small head. It stared at me with two big black, wary eyes. Was that an ocelot? No, an ocelot would be longer. The feline was hardly over twenty inches long.

Tlaxcala knelt so deeply that his forehead hit the ground. “Your Majesty, if it pleases you, I would humbly offer you these lowly gifts.”

I saw nothing humble about these gifts. They were little more than bribes. I welcomed them nonetheless.

“They are appreciated,” I said before waving a hand at the breakfast. “You may sit at my table.”

“Humble Tlaxcala is honored to share a meal with the Most August of all Rulers and his beautiful concubine.” Tlaxcala bowed to Necahual next before sitting on a cushion. My mother-in-law hardly managed to hide the disdain in her eyes. She disliked buttkissers as much as I did. “I pray my gifts will find favor in your heart.”

“They might,” I said. My eyes remained set on the creature Tlaxcala had brought with him. “What is that feline? It looks like an ocelot, but smaller.”

“This cat is a margay, a noble beast from the south,” Tlaxcala explained. “His name is Tetzon, the well-born. A loyal companion for Your Majesty, well-trained and obedient.”

“Is that so?” I squinted at the feline. “Tetzon?”

The feline’s head perked up in my direction and my eyes lit up with interest. Mother warned me that the Ride spell would require an animal to identify with a name to possess it. It was small too; so small it could almost crawl into a mouse’s hole. I presented my hand to Tetzon and let him lick my fingers.

Tlaxcala’s gift would serve me well indeed.

I examined the rest of his offering, in case I would find another welcome surprise. Unfortunately, while the robes and jewels probably cost more than my entire old village, they weren’t particularly noteworthy.

“There are women’s clothes,” I noted.

“These gifts were meant to honor your consorts, and the dear Lady Sigrun,” Tlaxcala replied. Of course, he had bribed the latter to vouch for him. “I would have expected to see her at your table today.”

Necahual tensed up slightly. “She…” She cleared her throat, clearly struggling with easy conversation. “She is no longer with us.”

“My dear Sigrun died yesterday,” I said bluntly.

Tlaxcala’s eyes widened in surprise, but he was wise enough not to push the subject upon sensing my icy tone. He had good political instincts at least.

“A shame,” he said without any sincerity. “My condolences, Your Majesty. She was a wise and great woman. She will be missed.”

More than you think, I thought. “I already do,” I said. “We are observing a period of mourning for her loss.”

“I shall be sure to send these gifts to her esteemed daughter, alongside my condolences,” Tlaxcala said politely.

In spite of his words, I didn’t miss his shifting eyes moving to observe Necahual. His calculating gaze betrayed his true thoughts: now that his previous patron had died, he was already considering how to replace her. His opportunism disgusted me, however useful it would prove.

I sensed Necahual tense up upon sensing that rotten man’s attention, but she quickly presented him with a smile that did not reach her eyes. It seemed Eztli had learned how to hide her true intentions from her mother.

“I have given thought to the matter of your inheritance and received prudent advice,” I declared while sipping my chocolate cup. “I have reached a decision.”

Tlaxcala straightened up, his breath short and hanging on to my every word. He reminded me of a bear trying not to look at a beehive. He could hear bees in the distance, but the promise of honey was too sweet to ignore.

I freed him from his doubts.

“I believe that your higher pedigree will ensure your father’s legacy prospers,” I declared casually. Settling the fate of a nationwide commercial legacy was a trivial matter to a true emperor. “Your brother will receive a sliver of wealth, as any son should, but your departed sire’s empire shall go to you alone.”

Tlaxcala smiled in triumph, his hands trembling in anticipation. He clearly struggled against the urge not to jump in place and barely managed to hold a measure of composure.

“Your Majesty is the wisest soul under the heavens,” he said with a deep, courteous bow. “My gratitude knows no bounds.”

“I shall make the decision official after the New Fire Ceremony. Higher duties request my full attention until then, but I wished to inform you personally.” I mimicked the cold, calculating gaze of the Jaguar Woman. “I will look forward to your success over the coming year.”

Tlaxcala’s eyes narrowed slightly. He understood the subtle message: that I could take as much as I gave, and that his future prosperity would rely on my goodwill.

“Your Majesty’s blessing would mean much to me,” Tlaxcala said with avuncular submission. “You will find no more loyal subjects than my family.”

I scoffed, unimpressed. “That goes without saying.”

Tlaxcala nodded sharply upon realizing oaths of fealty wouldn’t suffice. “I shall be sure to properly manifest my gratitude to Your Majesty in all words and deeds.”

I smiled and then drank my chocolate. I had recruited my first asset outside the palace.

Now I had to cultivate and see it prosper. I didn’t see a use for him yet, but I knew it would come in handy in due time. The mere fact I knew Tlaxcala’s name would make him an excellent target for the Ride spell.

“Now leave us,” I dismissed Tlaxcala as we finished breakfast. “I have other tasks to attend to.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Tlaxcala quickly rose to his feet, before bowing before Necahual and I. “Humble Tlaxcala hopes to meet you again.”

You shall. I watched Tlaxcala and briefly wondered how long it would take him to try bribing Necahual. He had seen her at my side twice. An ape would realize that she mattered enough to sit at my table. With luck, the fool will spread the word outside the palace’s walls.

“What of his brother?” I asked Tezozomoc once Tlaxcala was gone.

“He has already left the palace’s premises,” the priest replied. “He seemed… shaken.”

Excellent. If Tlazohtzin didn’t believe the strange bird spirit who had visited him yesterday, he should now. Despair would overcome his heart enough to do as I commanded. I would use my afternoon nap to check on his progress.

The pieces were in place now.

“Necahual,” I said, my voice sharper than a blade. “One last thing.”

Necahual met my gaze, tense yet resigned. She already knew what to expect. She had been preparing herself for it since the moment Yoloxochitl robbed her of everything.

Her pitiful expression almost caused me to relent. A look at the dress meant for Sigrun squashed my doubts. One way or another, that tragedy wouldn’t repeat itself. I would not waver again.

I would use any tool at my disposal to win.

“Sleep well for now,” I said. “Take a bath and relax. You have earned your rest.”

I leaned in to whisper into her ear.

“Because tonight, I will take everything,” I promised, too low for anyone else to hear, “And in return, I shall give you what you want.”

Her haunted eyes lit up briefly. I had promised to teach her magic, and I would. Perhaps not in the way she would expect, but I would fulfill my end of the bargain.

“Understood,” Necahual whispered with resignation. She would bear that ordeal too for her daughter’s sake.

In the dark, I can pretend she is Eztli. I’d told myself that once. I’ll just have to close my eyes.

I lied to everyone. Why not to myself too?

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