Page 12 of Humans Don’t Have Horns (A Crown of Blood and Magic #1)

Without the influence of the Nimatek, I can finally remember my mother’s image, and I can see my resemblance to her.

With the big, round eyes, the straight nose, and lavish red lips.

My sister and brother resemble my father more, with his feline-shaped eyes, high forehead, and thin lips.

My mother was known as a great beauty. I doubt my father would have ever married her if she had been less beautiful.

He was too dazzled by her appearance to notice her true virtues.

Her bravery, her wits. I don’t think he would have dared marry her if he were not taken by her beauty.

He might have realized how superior she was to him in all manners.

The woman in the mirror looks so similar to her. Besides the colors, of course. But I never thought of myself as beautiful. I was always a freak with my colors. And freaks aren’t beautiful.

Tomorrow, I’ll try to do better, I tell myself. Tomorrow I shall try to understand the meaning of all these alarm bells pounding in my ears.

***

Instead of my usual nightmares of that damn night, I dream of Daton.

He lies next to me as the morning light comes through the window.

His lips graze mine lightly, almost not touching.

I can feel the warmth of his breath against my mouth, then against my cheek, my temple, as his lips trail my face.

His hand cups my breast. I’m wearing my nightgown, but the thin fabric does nothing to stop my nipples from hardening under the graze of his thumb.

His touch sends heat through my body, creating an ache in my center.

I can smell his honey scent and taste it on his skin.

He’s not frightening in the dream, not brooding and aloof.

He’s not the Butcher, and I’m not a princess.

He’s only Daton, and he feels like home.

That thought is so misplaced, so wrong, that I wake up in alarm, my heart racing.

My breasts are heavy, and my center is throbbing.

He kills so brutally. I’ve seen it. And he hates me.

How could he be home? I’m mortified at myself.

Damn my mind, body, and soul for dreaming a thing like that, for wanting—how can this be something I would even desire?

After just yesterday, bleeding for the first time since it happened?

I hurry out of bed and don’t bother with the hot water as I take a shower.

I change my clothes as if starting a new day could erase the memories of that dream.

But the sensations linger, and I feel this empty loneliness. Home. There is no home.

***

My ivory gown hugs me, and the delicate silver embroidery glitters gently.

I leave my hair down. Maybe it’s defiance.

I can’t remember when I didn’t try to hide it among royals.

Maybe it’s just despair. I can’t shake the apprehension that wraps around me as I get closer to meeting with Tilil.

The door to my room is locked, so I sit on the blue couch, attempting not to fidget. Not to think of my dream .

A servant comes and escorts me to a patio for breakfast. The rays of the morning sun make the patio look as if it’s glowing. The smell of jasmine is strong, and I suddenly find it nauseating. As if everything is too beautiful. Too perfect. There is no perfection in nature. No symmetry.

My sister and aunt are seated at the table located near a pomegranate tree. My sister’s eyes avoid mine, her face somber.

“Good morning, Lian.” Tilil smiles her royal smile. “I do hope you are well rested.”

I lower myself into an impeccable curtsy.

I may have been drugged with Nimatek for nine years, but I was never excused from my curtsy classes.

No, I learned my role as an Aldonian royal maiden to perfection.

So much so that I am no maiden any longer, I think to myself darkly.

“I am, Your Highness. Thank you for your warm hospitality. I was so weary from the journey. I feel much better now.”

The Queen seems pleased. “Why, of course. It must have been just so awful. One minute you’re a bride, hours before becoming the Golden Queen, and then those hideous creatures kidnapped you.

How terrible. You must tell us all about it.

” She is so animated and compelling. It makes my sister’s grim expression look morbid almost.

“But first, you must eat something. You look absolutely famished.” She snaps her fingers, and the servants reveal the food hidden beneath the silver covers: fried eggs, sliced vegetables and fruits, olives, loaves of bread, and cheeses.

Renyan cuisine was always my favorite. Maybe because that is what we ate at my mother’s residence.

It makes me want to cry, this sudden taste of childhood.

I am indeed famished. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning, and the continuous hunger since my kidnapping has made me ravenous.

As I take a bite of a slice of orange, and as the juice hits my taste buds, it takes all my self-control not to moan loudly.

The things the Mongans are reduced to eating are so revolting that I nearly forgot how good food tastes.

And without the numbness of the Nimatek, everything tastes vibrant and, well, just more.

I eat like a starved woman while Siean barely touches her food.

Once I finish, I ask if I can have some coffee.

Coffee is an Aldonian beverage, not Renyan.

I really want a cup of good coffee though.

But Tilil winces, so I gulp some lemonade instead.

Then Tilil presses me to tell them of the Butcher kidnapping me from my wedding tent.

And I wonder if she knows it was him or only assumed.

I tell her that I managed to escape after a week.

Following Daton’s advice, I don’t reveal to them that I can speak Mongan, nor do I mention the direwolves.

I also don’t tell them of his part in my escape.

I doubt they would believe it. And there is no need to disclose any unnecessary information about him.

Then, in an attempt to reconcile with my sister, I tell her, “It is so good to be with you finally. I apologize for the way I spoke to you yesterday. I was so haunted by the sight of you and Mom getting sick. I remember begging Father to let Renya’s healers treat you.

But he wouldn’t hear of Renyan healing. He forced you on Aldon’s healers, who had only made you worse with their use of leeches and bloodletting.

” My sister glances at me warily and then at Tilil, her shoulders tense and her lips pressed into a white line. She says nothing.

Tilil’s tone is domineering. “Your mother and sister were not sick. Your father poisoned them. His healers were there just so he would look as if he was trying to save them.”

I am the last to defend my father, but this makes no sense. “But why would he poison them?”

Tilil sighs as if gathering her last shreds of patience with me and sits back in her chair.

“Your mother was called the Renyan star for her beauty and grace. Wherever she would go, all eyes set on her. The King of Aldon himself couldn’t resist her and married her.

Didn’t make her a mistress as to be expected.

But for the first time, a Renyan woman was the Queen of Aldon.

She was sure she could manipulate him to Renya’s advantage.

But she couldn’t. She underestimated his irascibility. ”

As she speaks the word, there is a flash of a strike, of a kick, and I flinch.

I feel my mind struggling to make sense of this raw memory.

“She didn’t understand how deeply he was brainwashed with the lies of the True Religion.

She attempted to overturn him when she finally realized she couldn’t manipulate him to Renya’s needs”, Tilil says .

Her face suddenly looks as if she just put a whole lemon in her mouth.

“Only a very vain person would think a Renyan woman could persuade Aldonian men to overthrow their king. She had betrayed him for a second time, and he killed her when he found out.” Then she sighs again.

“I believe that in his own selfish and twisted way, he did love her. But you know how the Aldonians are. They kill their women for far less. They are such meek, simple creatures. As if they’re not even women at all,” she says pensively and takes a sip from her goblet.

I gnaw my lip, trying to make sense of her words. “When was the first time she betrayed him?” I ask.

She tilts her head slightly as she observes me.

“Don’t you remember? He found out she was still practicing Renyan healing.

He had expected her to follow the True Religion and always had preached Renyan healing to be witchcraft.

That is when he took Nikanor away from her.

He never let her see him again,” Tilil says.

My brother was taken away. I remember that he moved to the palace but not the details.

I have a sudden flash of the dream I had, while I was in the swamps.

A dream of a monster taking Nikanor. It made no sense at the time.

“But why kill Siean?” I can sense that she is bored with our conversation, but I can’t help but ask. Even if what she says of my mother is true, why would he wish to kill Siean?

“Her hair is blue. It was reason enough for him,” she answers dismissively. She doesn’t say, “He didn’t bother to kill you because your hair is white.” She doesn’t say, “Siean is Renyan, while you are not.” She doesn’t need to.

In my bones, I know I shouldn’t ask. The question will anger her and Siean’s warning is a heavy weight on my heart.

I watch her sitting silent and growing apprehensive through this entire conversation.

She looks so young. It is so wrong. But I can’t stop myself.

I have to know. “How did you bring Siean back from the dead?” I blurt out.

Siean clenches her jaw so hard that I’m surprised her teeth don’t break.

With a derisive smile, Tilil answers, “Ha, there are no limits to the power of Renyan healing.” Only, there are limits to the power of Renyan healing.

My mother taught this to Siean and me. I remember this very clearly.

Renyan healing is healing, not sorcery. And it is limited because it is the gift of the Goddess.

It is not a godlike power. It is knowledge forged by Renyan healers for centuries, learning and practicing the Goddess’s gift.

“Is it the same healing that made you not age?” The words escape me before I can stop them. Tilil is the older sister. By now, she should be in her fifties, yet she looks younger than my mother did when she died. Immediately I sense I pushed too hard.

My aunt doesn’t look at me. Instead, her eyes are suddenly focused on the long silver teaspoon in her hand. She taps a boiled egg with it twice until the shell cracks. I can’t help but remember the sound of the soldier’s skulls cracking under Daton’s grip.

When she finally looks at me, her voice is frosty.

“This visit of yours has been an absolute delight. But it’s time for you to return home now, dear.

Your father is looking for you in all of Amada.

The price on your head is almost as high as the price on the Butcher’s head.

Ten thousand silver coins for your body, thirty thousand if you are alive.

I suppose he is willing to pay twenty thousand silver coins for the mere pleasure of burning you at the stake himself.

In your wanted ad, they wrote that the reward is for obtaining the princess, for she has been befouled and must purify herself.

Too bad those barbaric Aldonians believe a woman can only repent her sins with her burning death.

But that is the regime imposed on us since the War of Light.

Siean and four of our royal guards will escort you to Aldon safely.

We wouldn’t want to lose those twenty thousand silver coins, now would we? ” she says icily.

I’m silent with astonishment at her callousness .

And at this moment, she is more terrifying than the Mongans, than the direwolves.

The big direwolf’s warning comes back to me.

“Out here, some creatures will not give grace even to a human who speaks their language. Be more careful in your ways.” I walked into my downfall willingly, stupidly.

“Auntie, please. There must be another way,” Siean says finally .

Tilil snaps at her, “No, Siean. There is no other way. Your father has canons aimed at Renya at all times. Do you realize what he will do to Renya if he thinks we are hiding her here? He is completely humiliated. By her own testimony here, his daughter was in the company of none other than the Butcher himself and has yet to kill herself as the True Religion dictates.”

Siean looks genuinely miserable, but as she speaks, I realize it’s not on my account. “But surely I can’t be the one taking her to Aldon. He thinks I’m dead!” she exclaims.

“Then you will want to make sure he doesn’t notice you, won’t you?” Tilil smiles snidely.

“Auntie, please.” Siean is now imploring.

“Enough,” Tilil barks and slams her hand on the table. “You will take her there. For you are my daughter now, and you will do as I say.” Her voice is ice, and I realize it is a test of loyalty.

When I look at Siean, I know she will escort me to Aldon.

She will make sure I can’t run away and may even stay to watch while they burn me at the stake.

She appears utterly under the control of my aunt.

I can’t help but wonder why she is so terrified of Tilil.

She is not the sister I remember, and I wish I hadn’t met her.

I wish she weren’t alive because the only thing that hurts more than mourning a dead loved one is mourning a living one.