Blood & Fur

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Puppet's Strings

As always, Nenetl proved undefeatable in battle.

Unlike the deeply strategic Tumi game, Patolli relied almost entirely on luck. When a player rolled the dice, their only real choice was to either advance an existing pawn according to the given result or put another in play on the board. That was all. There were no special effects to call upon, no magic trick to escape destiny’s jaws. Since the game ended once a player got rid of all their pawns by reaching the board’s end, Patolli focused on making the best out of a dice roll. Mortals did not decide fate’s whim, but they could make the best of it.

Either Nenetl possessed phenomenal luck, or she had an uncanny intuition when it came to board games. We were on our fourth game and she appeared on the verge of winning this one too.

“You are good, Nenetl,” Chikal commented as she advanced her pawn by four spaces. “Very good.”

“You are not so bad yourself,” Nenetl replied cheerfully. Whilst she remained in the lead so far, Chikal did not lag too far behind. “No one has pushed me this far before.”

“It saddens me to hear that,” I complained. My poor pawns trailed twelve spaces behind the two.

“Don’t fret,” Eztli mused at my left. “You were never that good at Patolli.”

Ingrid smiled thinly at me to my right. “Luck simply does not favor you today, my lord.”

When did it ever smile on me? Perhaps I should check my own shadow for a cursed feather. It would explain so many things.

At least Eztli and Ingrid were both offering me much needed moral support now that their water fight ended without a clear winner. I wouldn’t say the childish feud had let them grow closer, but my consorts’ general mood definitely improved around each other.

“I shape my own destiny,” I said before rolling the dice. Victory might be beyond my grasp, but I refused to surrender without a fight. “If luck disdains me, then I must make my own.”

“A good way to live.” Chikal nodded in appreciation. She did not lose her composure even after Nenetl rolled the highest number possible, all but securing her victory. “You would love playing Stone Warriors.”

“Stone Warriors?” Nenetl asked, her eyes looking up from the board in interest. “Is that an amazon game? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Our generals use it to train at troop deployment,” Chikal replied. “The game is played with stone miniatures representing two armies, and does not allow for dice nor any form of luck.”

“No luck?” Eztli scoffed. “Where is the thrill then? The surprise?”

“It’s a match of pure skill and wits,” Chikal answered as she moved her pawn forward by three more spaces, deftly dodging a trapped spot. “It is a good game… but terrible training.”

“How so?” I asked, slightly surprised. I would think a game that allowed a player to control all the variables would help sharpen their strategic skills.

“Stone Warriors involves both sides fighting with the exact same amount of troops on an open field, with no dice nor luck involved. The rules stay invariably the same and the soldiers always act as their general wishes them to. It is the fairest of all games.” Chikal shook her head. “How does this mirror a true war, Lord Iztac?”

“I see what you mean,” Ingrid said, quickly guessing at the issue. “Two sides may possess vastly disproportionate resources of manpower, equipment, and logistics.”

Chikal nodded sharply. “Soldiers may misunderstand a general’s strategy, or even betray them. Dead warriors do not magically come back to life for the next battle. Leaders obey and discard rules whenever either brings them an advantage. An unforeseen change in weather may doom a perfect operation or provide a crucial delay. I have yet to find a game that can take all these elements into account.”

“Board & Conquest comes the closest, but it has its limits too,” Nenetl said softly. The Patolli game ended with a final roll of the dice and her last pawn reaching the finish line. “I’m sorry… this is the end.”

“Do not apologize for winning, child,” Chikal said after accepting her defeat with grace. “You should celebrate life’s victories. They are so few and far between, not to mention short-lived.”

Quite the cynical take on life. Chikal might have kept her dignity, but her true feelings shone through her words’ bitter edge.

“We could play another game,” Eztli suggested. “All of us.”

“Perhaps another time,” I said with a yawn. I needed to take a nap so I could survive a full night praying before the Nightlords’ sulfur flame.

“It is getting late,” Ingrid confirmed. Her arms coiled around mine and tightly held onto me. “My lord needs to rest.”

Eztli smiled at the scene, her fangs flashing beneath her lips. “Indeed he must. He will spend the night with me after all.”

Ingrid’s eyes did not smile when her lips did. Was she jealous of Eztli? Ugh, what a liability. I already had my hands full with the Nightlords. I couldn’t afford to handle yet another private war.

“I understand,” Nenetl said, albeit without hiding her disappointment. “Maybe we could play tomorrow instead? We can meet at the baths again.”

“I would not mind it after a hard day’s training,” Chikal mused. “If our emperor allows it.”

“Of course,” I replied, “but only if you bring your Stone Warriors game.”

“Oh, great idea,” Nenetl commented, her eyes alight with interest. “I would be delighted to try it.”

Her enthusiasm amused Chikal. “With pleasure.”

I walked out of the baths happier and more relaxed than when I went in. Servants immediately arrived with towels to dry us up, with Necahual included among their number. Since a duo of amazons took care of Chikal and I caught Ingrid exchanging words with her own maids, I wondered if each of my consort possessed their own assigned staff… and how loyal they were to their mistresses.

“I am surprised to see you being so kind with Nenetl,” I whispered to Eztli as her mother dried our backs with a towel. I caught Necahual’s fingers shaking as she touched her daughter’s skin; sensing its coldness no doubt reminded her of her failure to protect Eztli from the Nightlords’ grasp.

“What can I say? She reminds me of you.” Eztli shrugged as her mother dried her hair. “She alone bears her heart on her sleeve.”

I nodded in agreement. Whereas Ingrid and Chikal pursued their own political agendas, Nenetl didn’t have an insincere bone in her body. I admit it made me think fondly of her. She might very well become a true friend.

Alas, Tezozomoc soon arrived to ruin my good mood. The red-eyed priest bowed before Eztli and me before delivering the grave news. “Lady Eztli, your divine mother calls for you.”

How shameless of him to speak these words before Necahual. My mother-in-law’s crestfallen expression only worsened my mood, as did Eztli’s blank face.

“I see,” my consort said with little enthusiasm. “I shall go with haste.”

Necahual and I watched Eztli leave the imperial baths with the heavy steps of a condemned prisoner bound for execution. It tore my heart to see her like this, especially since I could do little to help her now. Necahual’s eyes followed her daughter until she vanished from view, her hands clenching the towel with fury.

Tezozomoc noticed the gesture, but thankfully did not comment on it. “Your Majesty?” he asked me next. “Lady Sigrun also asked me if you intended to call upon her services.”

A thrilling sensation traveled down my spine. I remembered Lady Sigrun’s last words to me when I asked how I should pay for her latest piece of intel: “Your best efforts when you call on us again."

I glanced at Ingrid, who pretended not to listen in on our conversation and yet did nonetheless. I had accidentally snubbed her by showing more attention to Nenetl during the general assembly. Now would be the occasion to fill her hunger for fame and attention.

“I would delight in her company,” I answered Tezozomoc. Ingrid briefly glanced in our direction but quickly corrected her expression.

“I shall see that she learns it.” Tezozomoc gave me one last respectful bow before leaving. I admit that while he proved a much needed improvement over his predecessor, Tlacaelel, the less I saw this man, the better.

I turned to Necahual, whose hollow gaze made me pity her a little. While I felt little sympathy for her because of our prior history, but I didn’t think anyone deserved to see their own child torn away from them.

“I am sorry,” I told her.

Receiving my pity seemed to jolt Necahual from her gloomy mood. She answered my words with a glare and then bent slightly to dry my shoulders.

“I stand by my decision,” she whispered into my ear with cold resolve. “I wish to learn witchcraft.”

I glanced at Nenetl, whose servants covered the slave tattoo with a white cotton robe. Necahual’s situation would not differ much from his consort’s own if she continued down this path.

“You do not know what you ask for,” I told her once more.

“Mayhaps, but it will be better than what I have now.” Necahual’s lips strained into that awful, hateful expression I had grown familiar with over the years. “Nothing.”

She grasped for power in an attempt to regain her agency. Part of me wanted to grant her wish. The more spellcasters and tools at my disposal, the better. However, part of me did not relish in furthering another’s enslavement; especially since I would hold the leash myself.

Necahual was no Nahualli. The Parliament of Skulls knew of a way to turn her into a Mometzcopinque, a creature with magic of its own, but the process would bind her soul to me. I would take another step toward becoming yet another slaver.

“What good is there in borrowed power?” I asked her. “You will–”

Her nails sank into my shoulders.

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“You think this is about me?” Necahual whispered with a hint of disdain. “I will do anything to see my daughter freed and happy again. Anything. I do not care how you use me so long as I can get her back.”

The anger in her voice felt too vivid to be false. I could always trust Necahual’s hatred.

The contrast with my own mother, who helped me only so long as she could afford not to risk anything, filled my heart with jealousy. If a petty soul like Necahual could find depths of resolve when it came to protecting her child, what excuse did Ichtaca have?

“Please,” Necahual pleaded as she let go of my shoulders. Sorrow and despair overwhelmed the anger in her eyes. “She… she is all I have left.”

For all the resentment and bitter memories I kept for my mother-in-law, I couldn’t help but admire her choice. I had impressed upon her the cost of witchcraft and she would still pay it for Eztli’s sake.

If it was her choice…

“Fine,” I whispered back. “I will see what I can do.”

I found it hard to fathom that a woman like Necahual could find an ounce of courage in her situation, but I would respect her decision.

Necahual answered my words with a small nod and a brief, “Thank you.”

I wondered how much it hurt her to say those words.

I offered my arm to Ingrid after Necahual finished dressing me. She swiftly took it and then I bade goodbye to my other consorts for the time; with a particular focus on Nenetl.

“Do you feel better now?” I asked her.

“I do, my lor–Iztac.” Nenetl blushed slightly. “You are very kind.”

“I had a pleasant afternoon too, Nenetl,” Ingrid said courteously while conveniently forgetting her water fight with Eztli. “I look forward to playing games with you myself another time.”

I suspected Ingrid said those words only so she could keep an eye on Nenetl, but the latter’s answer took her aback. “Me too, Ingrid,” Nenetl replied with utmost sincerity, before taking Ingrid’s hands into her own. “I hope you won’t not find me too boring.”

“Why would I?” Ingrid replied with an insincere smile.

“Well, you are…” Nenetl’s cheeks turned crimson. “You are so cultured and refined… I do not want to embarrass you…”

Ingrid observed Nenetl with a strange gaze. She reminded me of a bird of prey searching for any kind of weakness or deceit, only to find herself confused when she failed to detect any. Her sharply trained political mind struggled with the possibility that Nenetl’s clumsy compliments hid no ulterior motives.

Ingrid eventually regained her composure and lightly kissed Nenetl’s hands. “Do not worry about that, Nenetl,” she said lightly. “The four of us stand as equals in the gods’ eyes.”

A fact that Ingrid clearly resented, but Nenetl believed her anyway. We gently kissed each other on the cheek, promising to meet again tomorrow, before servants led her back to her bedroom.

“I stand by what I said earlier, Lady Chikal,” Ingrid said as my last consort prepared to take her leave. “I would like to witness your next training session, if you will have me. For curiosity’s sake.”

“Suit yourself.” The amazon queen shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t care either way. “I will be waiting for you tomorrow, Iztac.”

“We’ll make up for today’s loss,” I promised. Unlike Nenetl, Chikal did not kiss me goodbye, nor did I make an attempt to do so. Whereas I’d shared a bed with the others, or at least grown friendly with them like with Nenetl, the amazon queen kept our relationship strictly professional for now.

I would make an effort to break past this barrier over the next few days. I wouldn’t say my consorts had become friends—the tense exchanges between Ingrid and Eztli attested to their mutual defiance. Nonetheless, I believed we had taken the first step towards understanding each other.

One day, we might all work in harmony against our true enemy.

“Shall we retire to my chambers, Ingrid?” I asked.

I expected her to agree with a smile. Instead, she appeared almost… reluctant. “If my lord wishes.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to?”

“No, no, let us return.” Ingrid shook her head and forced herself to smile. “My mother awaits you.”

You? I noticed her odd turn of phrasing. Not us?

Ingrid dragged me by the arm back to my apartment without any comment. I sensed the tension in her hands, but the way she avoided my gaze convinced me to keep my mouth shut. My consort was in no mood to discuss what bothered her.

Ingrid’s prophecy proved correct once we returned to my bedchambers and the guards closed the door behind us.

Lady Sigrun lay naked on my bed.

Before I went to sleep earlier this morning, I’d asked her to put the bribe jewels she received from Tlaxcala on. She’d followed my command to the letter. A splendid emerald necklace fell on her bosom, right below her torc, while rings of gold centered around her arms and thighs.

I had already seen her naked in the baths, but this… the way her necklace’s glow complimented her eyes, the sight of gold on her milky white skin, of her hair falling on her breasts… I couldn’t put it into words. Her jewelry heightened her allure the way statues of gold enhanced a temple’s majesty. I stared at her perfect curves without a word, my lips unable to utter a word.

Lady Sigrun smiled at me with teeth whiter than pearls. Her right hand traveled up her neckline, brushing against her full bosom and necklace; the left moved to her thighs. I was watching a well-rehearsed spectacle meant to quicken my pulse, and it worked beautifully. My blood boiled in my veins and my manhood stirred against my loincloth.

Lady Sigrun glanced at Ingrid, who swiftly removed my clothes. I hardly paid attention to her warm touch on my skin. The daughter was but a shadow of her mother, and the latter had effortlessly put me under her thrall.

“Come over here,” Lady Sigrun boldly ordered me, as if I were the slave and she the master.

The nerve of her… I admit my body very much wanted to obey her command and join her, but my mind held back. So many days of scheming and treachery had made me wary of everything. I knew that much like she did not hesitate to throw Ingrid into my bed to influence me, Lady Sigrun would only offer me pleasure as a hook to obtain more concessions from me. She hungered for a queen’s power.

However, I knew what awaited me afterward: a full night spent fueling a cursed flame with four vicious vampires breathing down my neck, followed by short hours of sleep trapped in a burning hellscape with Mother Dearest. Once I considered my trips to the Land of the Dead Suns an escape from the harsh reality of my waking days. No more. I would rest neither among the living nor the dead.

I might as well enjoy myself where I could. Evacuate the tension building up in my flesh and mind. The Nightlords designed this palace as a golden cage, with countless pleasures meant to dull my senses.

What harm was there in using a few of them for release’s sake?

---- NSFW Scene Starts -----

So I anxiously walked up to the bed, doing my best to ignore the silent guards watching us with utter stillness. Ingrid did not say a word, her face once again blank and expressionless. I couldn’t tell whether she disapproved or simply tried to hide her embarrassment. She glanced at her mother, looking for instructions; and in response Lady Sigrun silently gestured at the harp in the corner of the room.

She would not share me this time. Not even with her daughter.

Is this truly happening? I crawled onto the bed before I knew it and Lady Sigrun welcomed me without a word. I felt her daughter’s eyes on my back as she started to play the harp. Somehow this only heightened the thrill. Or am I still dreaming?

I had shared a bath with Lady Sigrun before, and a bed with both Ingrid and Eztli. This time felt different, however. Stupid as it sounded, I still hesitated to touch Lady Sigrun. I knew she wouldn’t push me away—she’d invited me after all—but the difference in age and experience suddenly became clear to me. Though she kept her youth and beauty, Lady Sigrun was old enough to be my mother. She was a mature woman who had bedded over fifteen emperors and outlived them all; a queen who bore three princes and princesses without losing her legendary beauty.

I could brush it all off when we were merely playing stage games for outsiders, but now I felt… not intimidated, but anxious. Like a man who had only climbed hills now facing the challenge of an ancient mountain.

Sensing my wariness, Lady Sigrun clutched my hands, lightly kissed my fingers, and then pushed them against her bosom. All my hesitation vanished the moment I touched her. A jolt of lightning traveled through my skin.

“Earn me,” she said softly.

The sheer confidence in her words floored me. Somehow Lady Sigrun reversed our situation in a single sentence: I was the one who had to prove himself worthy of her. She challenged me, dared me to show I possessed the strength to hold her attention.

I knew it was a ploy, a tactic meant to arouse my desire; I was the one with the crown, the emperor. I held the power of life and death over her.

But just like the Veil ensnared the weak-willed into believing in an illusion, her plan worked. I’d never wanted a woman more than this pale witch from the east.

I desired her fiercely. I desired her beauty, her wits, and her intelligence. And if she had been capable of loving me, I would have wanted her heart too. I knew she was only beckoning me because she hoped to profit from our union after I’d proved my skills, but the mere fact she thought this dance was necessary aroused me. I felt worthy.

So I began to explore her, to touch her. Her smooth unblemished skin smelled of flowers and oil. I traced lines along her neckline and then seized her breasts. They felt like fruits in my hands, firm yet soft. Her fingers brushed against my hair and pushed my head closer to her bosom. Lady Sigrun let out a small gasp as I suckled her nipple. Her flesh tasted of salty sweat and spice.

“Pleasure me,” she ordered as her free hand guided one of mine between her legs. She moaned softly as I jammed my fingers in her lady parts, the sound making shivers run down my spine.

The rest was a blur, a whirlwind of kisses and whispers. Lady Sigrun proved an experienced teacher. Whereas I stumbled a lot with my previous partners, I only had to follow her directions this time. Somehow she always knew where to touch me to heighten my pleasure. A brush here, a bite there… I tasted her breast, her neck, her belly, her everything. Each brush of her fingers unleashed a jolt of lighting through my skin.

The fact Ingrid watched our coupling only heightened the experience. It gave our embrace a forbidden thrill, for lack of a better term. Perhaps it was her mother’s ploy—it certainly felt that way—but I didn’t mind. I didn’t care. I wanted to claim her, to own her, to conquer her.

Lady Sigrun finally granted my wish. She let me crawl above her, my manhood erect. She spread her legs and grabbed my shoulders with her hands, inviting me, welcoming me, daring me to claim the prize I’d earned.

I could not resist. I did not want to resist. My hands grabbed her thighs and she buried her face in my neck as I thrust into her. I expected a rush of immense pleasure, a moment of absolute bliss.

Instead, I felt the trap’s jaws closing on me.

The realization cut through the fog of pleasure like a blade of obsidian through flesh. A sensation of alertness and danger seized my heart instantly. A jolt of unease traveled through my back and caused my spine to stiffen.

What is this? I closed my eyes and focused. My breath was short, my body in the throes of pleasure, but my heart ached in my chest. My heart…

My Teyolia.

I focused on my divine heart-fire. I sensed the presence of another flame besides mine; smaller, weaker, hungrier. A blazing torch to the hateful sun of my soul, but one that burned in perfect synchronicity with my own Teyolia.

Lady Sigrun sensed my sudden tension. Her legs coiled around my back before I could pull back, like the jaws of a great beast closing in on me.

I activated the Gaze the moment I opened my eyes again, covering the spell under a Veil. The invisible runes covering Sigrun’s skin appeared to me, shining with the same gilded light as the torch connected to my heart-fire.

“Calm down, my lord,” Lady Sigrun softly whispered into my ear. Her arms seized me, her left hand sliding into my hair to better hold my head close. “Let me guide you…”

“What…” I clenched my teeth, seething. “What are you doing to me?”

“Don’t you know?” Lady Sigrun smiled ear to ear. “To receive, you must first give.”

My eyes widened. Death and beauty, I remembered. These runes represent the goddesses of death and beauty.

“When you asked about the runes… You wanted to learn my magic, did you not?” Lady Sigrun pulled my head into her bosom, our bodies joining in flesh. “To receive my knowledge and pleasure… you must give in return.”

Death and youth. The pieces suddenly fell into place. I finally understood how Lady Sigrun had managed to remain so beautiful and ageless. Did my predecessors know? Probably not. Her method was subtle. So subtle I would have noticed had I not tasted a sun’s embers and strengthened my Teyolia earlier.

“It might feel different this time,” I warned her.

“Good,” she replied with a soft exhalation. “Worry not… I will only take what you give me…”

I nodded and then thrust. She moaned and pushed against me, biting into my neck like a vampire. I closed my eyes to better focus on my Teyolia, to both bask in the pleasure and fully understand the process. Our heart-fires aligned like the sun and moon during an eclipse.

My loins ached and then came the bliss, that brief moment of absolute peace and contentment. My mind cleared like the sky while a surge of lightning traveled through my spine.

---- NSFW Scene Ends-----

I gave Lady Sigrun more than my seed; I gave her flames.

As our bodies became one, so did the fires of our souls. Some of my lifeforce flowed into her own; mere embers to the sun burning in my heart, but a searing flow of flames for her own meager Teyolia. Lady Sigrun let out a high-pitched cry during our union, her skin becoming searingly warm against mine.

The connection between our souls faded away. The fog of pleasure over my mind lifted as my manhood deflated. I looked upon Lady Sigrun, my sweat falling on her pink cheeks and youthful skin. Her smile of contentment filled me with masculine pride, but I was too exhausted to enjoy it for long. I collapsed against her chest while gasping for air.

“That was… wonderful, my lord,” Lady Sigrun whispered into my ear. Her hands stroked my cheeks and hair. “Wonderful.”

It did feel that way, at least in the moment. An ultimate rush of pleasure right before the wave of exhaustion.

“That is how… You stay so young and beautiful,” I managed to whisper as I pulled out of her. “You’re a witch… no… you’re…”

“A vampire?” Lady Sigrun scoffed in amusement. She kissed my neck right where she bit me earlier. “I do not drink blood, my lord.”

No. Instead, she used another body fluid to consume a man’s Teyolia. She drained the vitality of her lovers to strengthen her own. Death transformed into beauty. And she had quite the appetite too. This single session left my body exhausted, so a normal man would have lost years of their own lifespan.

But since emperors never lasted more than one, who could notice? They would blame the exhaustion on a harsh day of work without thinking twice about it.

“How?” I asked her, the sound of Ingrid’s harp covering our discussion. I’d recovered enough for my breathing to slow down. “You’re not a Nahualli.”

“I cannot do what you do, no.” Lady Sigrun smiled at me. “I’ve suspected you were a sorcerer of great power for a while, but now that I’ve tasted your lifeforce I am convinced of it. I could not explain your mysterious knowledge and interest in the codices otherwise… nor why the Nightlords catered such great hopes for you.”

I crawled over her and looked into her eyes. It took all of my willpower, and a Veil, to hide my unease behind a mask of composure. That was bad, truly bad. I should have expected her to figure out my magical gifts from my interests in the First Emperor’s codices. The previous emperors counted Nahualli among their numbers. Of course someone of her intellect would have figured it out.

I doubted she knew I could travel to the Underworld or that I’d staged all steps of the Sapa attack on my person, but she already knew too much. I could dispose of her easily enough with my current skills… no, no, someone with her skills would have taken precautions. Besides, I still needed her to gather the emperor’s codices. She had all the tools to blackmail me.

My best bet was to remind her how unwise it would be.

I cast a subtle Veil; an illusion that covered my gaze alone. When Lady Sigrun looked into my eyes, she saw two sulfur flames burning with the First Emperor’s boundless fury. The mirrors of my irises reflected the cosmic terror the Nightlords prepared to unleash upon the world.

However wise and composed she was, Lady Sigrun remained a mortal. She had never faced a god before, not even the illusion of one. A flash of fear lit up in her gaze.

“You do not want to make me your enemy,” I whispered with all the malice in the world. It wasn’t a threat, but a fact. “You were wise to keep my secrets so far… and you will be wiser to continue down that path.”

My hand moved up her neckline and subtly caressed her throat. “Loyalty and treachery both carry their own rewards.”

Lady Sigrun quickly corrected her expression. The fear was gone, but the caution remained.

“The thought never crossed my mind, my lord,” she whispered back. “Our interests align.”

“Good.” I removed my Veil spell and let my eyes return to normal. “You did not answer my question.”

Lady Sigrun gently caressed my back as if I were a savage animal to soothe. “It is said that the world came from a primordial being that sprung from nothingness. You people call it Ōmeteōtl and mine call it Ymir, but the tale is the same: when faced with loneliness, this primordial entity split into male and female before siring the first gods.”

Tired as I might be, it didn’t take me long to figure it all out. “Male and female were once one…”

“The union of a man and a woman allows them to tap into great power,” Lady Sigrun confirmed. “My people call this form of magic the Seiðr.”

A man and a woman’s Teyolia could connect during a coupling under specific circumstances; and since the power came from the union itself rather than the individual, one did not need to be a sorcerer to practice it. At least from what I gathered.

I rolled to my back and glanced at Ingrid, who still played the harp in the background. She avoided my gaze, staring down at the floor as her hands pinched her instrument’s strings. I couldn’t tell whether she avoided my gaze out of shame at seeing me in her mother’s arms… or guilt.

“Does she know?” I whispered into Sigrun’s ears.

“Yes,” she replied while lovingly stroking my chest. “I taught her the draining spell, just in case.”

I frowned and activated my veiled Gaze spell. To my surprise, Ingrid’s skin showed none of her mother’s runes. She hadn’t used the spell on me without my knowledge, nor did she intend to. I guessed it wouldn’t serve Ingrid well, since she would die at the year’s end anyway.

“What practical applications does this Seiðr magic have?” I asked Sigrun. If this brand of sorcery could provide me with any tactical advantage, then I wanted to master it. “Besides keeping one youthful?”

“Plenty.” Lady Sigrun smiled at me. “I could teach it to you.”

“But not for free.” Never for free. Much like how she murdered Tlacaelel to convince me of her skills, she had given me a taste of power to better negotiate future trades. “What will it cost me?”

“I will think over it. Your immense lifeforce might let me achieve feats formerly beyond me.” Lady Sigrun lightly kissed me on the lips, the sweetness of the gesture banishing my exhaustion. “Rest now, my lord. You have earned it.”

I did. My body felt so tired that keeping my eyes open so far had been a struggle.

So I closed them and rested my head against Lady Sigrun’s bosom.

But I did not sleep.

My body went numb beneath the bed sheet and my breath slowed down. A Veil of illusions cloaked my body and hid the shadow emerging from my chest from all gazes. When I opened my eyes I looked upon my own sleeping human face.

Casting both the Veil and Spiritual Manifestation spells at once took a great deal of willpower from me; so much so that I couldn’t maintain my Tonalli’s physical form. My soul emerged from my flesh as an ephemeral ghost of smokey feathers and shadowy talons, an intangible spirit unable to fully materialize among the living.

Perhaps that was for the better. The wispy strands of my soul faded through Lady Sigrun’s fingers without alerting her to my spirit’s presence. The Veil hid me from view with no one the wiser.

Fully escaping my own body as a disembodied Tonalli proved to be a strange experience. Whereas I kept physical sensations in the Land of the Dead Suns, now I felt numb all over. I intellectually knew where each limb was supposed to be and how to move them, but flapping my wings blew neither air nor filled my feathers with any stimulus. No perfume nor sweet taste filled my beak. At least I could listen to Ingrid’s music and see the world in color.

My body lay on the bed in deep torpor, a corpse-like slumber, a dreamless sleep that neither pleasure nor pain could wake it from. Lady Sigrun rested next to me as if she owned the bed while Ingrid kept playing. Mother and daughter exchanged a heavy glance.

I was almost tempted to stick around and spy on them, but I did not have time. I floated through the nearest wall and phased through the stone without issues, abandoning my bedroom for a cramped, secret tunnel hidden from view.

I immediately sensed a presence in the dark passage. The absence of a torch or light of any sort caused me to struggle for a moment to find it, until I noticed two pairs of red eyes glittering in the shadows.

Nightkin.

Of course the Nightlords would increase security around me after the tablet incident. A pair of Nightkin could tear through stone and any assassin trying to take my life. They observed my body with unnerving vigilance, their attention so great that they failed to pierce through my Veil. I observed them for a second in case they might sense my presence, before fleeing through the tunnel.

I thanked Ezti in my mind for providing me with a map of the secret passages earlier. They were relatively easy to navigate through and nothing like the tangled maze I imagined. The passages and hidden stairways clearly lined up to the palace’s rooms, allowing spies to follow my movements wherever I went.

Now I could turn this weapon against my captors.

Maintaining the Manifestation is easier than I expected. Strengthening my Teyolia with divine embers had increased my Tonalli’s resilience; I might have been able to fully manifest had Lady Sigrun not drained me beforehand. I should be able to stay in this form for a while if I pace myself… and as long as no one ambushes me.

I could not defend myself in my current state. Materializing my talons taxed my mind too much, let alone casting a spell like the Doll. I could weave a Veil easily enough since it relied on keeping my Tonalli in an ephemeral state anyway, but a physical confrontation would end in defeat.

Neither could I afford to linger outside my body for too long. I had a short few hours before nightfall, at which point Tezozomoc would wake me up for the Nightlords’ ceremony. A failure to awaken might become a cause for concern, and thus risk discovery of my powers.

Teyolia theft. The more I thought about Lady Sigrun’s method of maintaining her youth, the more parallels I saw with the vampiric kiss. Both involved draining a target’s heart-fire and lifeforce through physical contact. Did they work according to similar principles? Would studying Seiðr further my understanding of the vampiric curse?

There was a connection to be found. I could feel it in my bones.

I continued flying through the tunnels, following the mental map I’d memorized earlier, and then phased through a wall. Rays of sunlight blinded me as I took flight under a bright winter sky. No words could properly describe the joy I felt when my wings carried me above my menagerie and the thick palace’s walls.

I hadn’t taken a step outside this cage of gold and stone since the Night of the Scarlet Moon.

The bustling streets of the imperial capital had never looked so beautiful to me from above. Great temples of red brick stood taller than hills and cast great shadows on statues and mosaics of all the beasts of the earth. Fleets of ships sailed to an immense port, delivering goods from all corners of the earth to wily merchants and hungry consumers. The city could not rival Mictlan in size and majesty, but it remained the home of countless thousands. All of the wealth and splendor of Yohuachanca gathered within its markets abuzz with songs and activity. Even the terrible Blood Pyramid and its plaza gained a certain aura of majesty when looked over from above.

If only I could simply fly away from this prison. A glance at the chained fire in my chest dissuaded me easily enough. My soul remains shackled wherever I go.

With luck, the New Fire Ceremony might grant me my freedom back.

According to Lady Sigrun’s information, the brothers Tlazohtzin and Tlaxcala occupied locations near my palace while waiting for my judgment. Although I planned to rule in favor of the latter, I sought the former’s current home among the great noble mansions, temples, and merchant houses forming my capital’s wealthiest district. I quickly found what I was looking for: a mighty five-floor inn decorated with statues of two-headed serpents and jolly ocelot faces. I silently phased through the windows and searched my target through comfortable bedrooms, baths, and great halls.

I found Tlazohtzin inside a set of apartments on the fifth floor, praying before a small private shrine dedicated to the Nightlords. An offering of food and pulque burned inside a brazier, which I considered a waste. I knew very well what Tlazohtzin was praying for, and his wishes would go unanswered.

However, he could still be of use to me.

A perfect opportunity. I perched on the shrine and expanded my Veil. Now, let us see if I remember how King Mictlantecuhtli sounded.

Tlazohtzin looked up at the shrine upon finishing his prayer, and gasped in shock as I revealed myself to him; not as an owl of darkness, but as a great condor of light and gold. The very image of the Mallquis who tried to ensnare me in the Underworld not too long ago.

“I am Inkarri,” I lied, using illusions to mimic the deep and ancient voice of King Mictlantecuhtli. “Messenger of His Divine Eminence, the First Emperor. I have come to deliver the heavens’ words to you, Tlazohtzin. Listen well.”

I sense the weight of the man’s disbelief pushing against my Veil, but he was a man untrained in sorcery. My divine appearance at a shrine, my voice borrowed from the god of death himself, my confidence inspired by the great powers I had danced with in the Underworld… All of these elements crushed his doubts under the overwhelming weight of zeal, faith, and surprise.

The heavens had listened to his prayers and answered them with a miracle.

I felt a little ashamed about crushing his hopes.

“Tomorrow, the mortal emperor will announce that he has chosen your brother Tlaxcala as your father’s successor,” I declared. “Your treacherous sibling paid for lies to reach the emperor’s ears, and your hard work shall go unrewarded.”

“W-What?” Tlazohtzin blinked in shock and disappointment at the decision’s injustice. His wrath was so great that he dared to complain before a divine messenger. “But I… I worked myself to the bone to serve my father and preserve his legacy! Tlaxcala is a rotten fool unfit to lead!”

Which was why I selected him. The man would do anything for power.

However, as a wise man once said, let no crisis go to waste. The scorned brother would prove useful; doubly so since he stood to lose everything.

“Worry not, child,” I interrupted Tlazohtzin. Guilt’s cold hands briefly seized my heart, but I powered through anyway. “Your dedication has impressed my masters; the great gods who reward perseverance and hard toil. The mortal emperor’s decisions may yet be overturned and true justice returned to the land.”

It was yet another lie, but one Tlazohtzin was desperate to believe.

“Alas, the heavens only help those who help themselves. You must prove your faith for fortune to favor you. A quest you must complete on my master’s behalf.” I used the Veil to increase the glitter of my feathers for the sake of impressing him. “As a master innkeeper, you must be acquainted with the Sapa and their game of Tumi.”

Tlazohtzin frowned in confusion. “I am.”

“Good.” If birds could smile, I would have. “This year shall soon come to an end and the gods shall reap a toll of foreign offerings upon Smoke Mountain. You must pay your own due on this sacred land, unseen and undetected; lest your brother sabotage you once more.”

Tlazohtzin drank in my words with rapturous attention, unknowingly putting his own noose around his neck.

I had my pawn and my patsy.

It was time to set the trap.