I let my gaze linger on her face for one last moment, and the door closes with her eyes locked on mine, over Zethki’s shoulder.
When I step into the hall, I punch the wall and splinter the stone. My fingers bleed, but I continue walking. I need to destroy something, to kill something, to release this energy.
And then, I will set a plan into motion.
A plan that, as I walk through the corridors, is taking shape in my mind. It is wild, complex, and stands very little chance of working as I want it to. It’s the kind of plan that Zethki would concoct, the kind of plan I would attempt to talk him out of.
I know that I’m going to do it, though.
Because I would do anything for her.
CHAPTER18
Rysethk
I enter the ceremonial room, wearing mykrakscythin the manner of battle. I have come from the practice arena, and the Kerz gathered in the room bear the marks of my anger. Prakg is missing, in the infirmary, and while in other times I would have felt dishonored by his absence and my role in it, I feel nothing about it now.
I have a singular objective, and my objective can only be met if I manage calm within myself. I must display what the Zethki’sza’kryukwould expect me to display, if this were a world in which Zethki’s orders had been conveyed to a Kerz who cares nothing for anyone. Especially not a human woman, his Krezat’s Za’aka. And above all, theza’kryukmust be made aware that Zethki is in love with this human and that his love has altered his judgment—but without suspecting, for a moment, that I, too, have fallen prey to her.
They would see this, no doubt, as a call to duty, and their duty would be to destroy the bewitching woman who has enthralled their Krezat and his Kapsuk.
There are many, no doubt, who would also see this turn of events as an opportunity to seize power for themselves.
I no longer care about power, or which Kirigok heads this clan, or whether it even survives. My singular goal is to ensure that Zethki is murdered, and that his ownza’kryukdo the murdering. I can see no other way forward, no other way to protect Anya.
They glare at me as I enter the room. Many are bruised and I believe that I broke many bones as well, but forza’kryukthis is a mere annoyance if it can be splinted. I have acted dishonorably in practice, not entirely because I lost control of myself. This unbridled anger, so contrary to my character, serves me well for the trap I intend to lay.
ForifI wanted to guard the secret of Zethki’s infatuation with Anya, and I were an ordinary Kapsuk, I would be infuriated. I would have beaten men nearly to death in the practice arena. Which is what I did, though for other motives.
I let them simmer in their anger, gauge the presence of mykrakscyth, the implications of carrying with me a weapon of that sort. I walk to the head of the table, which disarms them, because I’m sure that they were expecting Zethki. They were expecting to hear of our raid, and of the breeding ceremony that Zethki promised would precede it. These are expectations, and the expectations of theza’kryukare important for a Kerz to manage at all times.
I stand for a moment in silence, brooding. This is not an acting job; I’m as displeased as I seem. They exchange glances—swiftly, secretly—but I see their eyes move from one to another’s. They are trying to add up the pieces, to form a coherent picture that unites Zethki’s absence, my unhinged rage in the practice arena, the still-glowing ambers of mykryth.
I wait as theirkrythbegin to heat, as streaks of yellow begin to course through their own blood. Some of them may suspect a coup, may be deciding as I stand before them which side of the coup they should choose to be on. Zethki is fearsome and Kerz are loyal to power, but Zethki is also greatly disliked. His madman schemes, his cruelty, his physical inferiority to me make more than a few Kerz dubious of their deepest loyalties.
If I did try a coup, these Kerz would side with me, and we would emerge victorious. But a victory in a power struggle is one thing, and one can still be defeated in the years after such a coup, while attempting to manage these unruly men.
I’m not here for a coup. I’m here to plant the seeds of a mutiny, a coup, and a murder all in one.
“I’m here in the stead of our Krezat,” I begin, when I believe they have simmered enough. I place a hand on my sword, and let the confusion between their suspicions and my words play out. I’m here for the Krezat, so I say, but I look and behave like a Kerz about to overthrow one.
“He wishes that I convey to you, theza’kryuk, that the breeding ceremony with the Za’aka will not take place. We will depart for Mraka within thebrikaf.You are to prepare for readiness.” I glare solemnly at them for a moment. “That is all.”
A crude sound escapes the lips of one of theza’kryuk. I glare at him, my pupils dilating. I let the fury in my blood fill mykrythwith a bit of fire, the heat running down my arm, coursing over my neck. “That is all.”
“Tell us, Kapsuk,” a young Kerz, an unlikeable monster who will not live long named Ferathk sniggers. “Has he killed the Za’aka?” He laughs again, and it catches like a cough, spreading around the men, though few are so brazen as to open their mouths or wear the expression of childish sniggering upon their faces, lest I identify them.
They are smarter than Ferathk.
I blink slowly at Ferathk, so that he can see the change in my eyes, which are now entering their reptilian mode, seeing very clearly, looking very dark. Intelligent and battle-forged Kerz know this is a sign that they should fear. Ferathk seems to doubt himself, but he’s young, and hiskrythdrives his mind, not the other way around.
As I said, he will not live long.
“Was hiskrythtoo much for this human?” He laughs again, and looks to the others for affirmation of his bestial joke.
A few laugh, and some frown. They are suddenly uncomfortable, which is how I like them. Rumors flourish in the soil of discomfort and perceived secrets. And I want those rumors to blossom into flowers of murderous intent. I need only one taker. I suspect I shall have more.
“That is all,” I repeat, with a tone of finality.
