Page 55 of Humans Don’t Have Horns (A Crown of Blood and Magic #1)

As I stand up, Siean enters the tent, and Rashkan follows.

Rashkan is in his late fifties. He has served our family since he was a little boy and has been a high priest for over thirty years. No priest has survived that long. For real or imagined treason, death had always ended their careers within several years. Sometimes months.

Holding power in Aldon is like ruling a snake’s den. You kill one snake, and hundreds come at you. Never stopping. It drove most kings mad. It stopped mattering if snakes were coming for them or not. They saw them everywhere.

Yet this high priest survived. He’s the biggest snake of them all. He’s also the wiliest of them all. And just like a snake, he has no backbone. Nothing is beneath him.

Whoever controls the church of the True Religion controls the crown. While I lived in Aldon, I never even exchanged a word with him. I had no power, I was nothing but a mere pawn, and so I wasn’t worth his time. And now he’s my only chance of taking the crown.

As he enters the tent, Rashkan looks almost offended by the simplicity of the tent, so unfitting to his rich dress.

The golden embroidery glints in the dawn light.

The diamonds on his fingers seem grotesque in the simple Mongan tent.

The hem of his crimson-hooded cloak brushes the dirt.

He passes my brother’s corpse without a second glance.

Siean folds her arms and raises her chin. Her entire gait speaks of her dislike of this man. “Lian has to take the throne instead of Nikanor.”

Rashkan eyes me derisively. “Impossible for a woman to take the throne of Aldon.” He waves dismissively, and turns to leave “You are wasting my time, girl,” he drawls at Siean.

But Siean seems to not have heard his dismissal.

She hadn’t even noticed his domineering tone, the use of the word girl for a queen.

In that moment, as she begins to speak, she is formidable.

No, she is terrifying. “Lian becoming queen is the only chance for you to stay alive. Rod is dying. Nikanor is dead. You have stolen, tortured, and killed for decades in Rod’s name, and now all your victims will come for revenge.

Making Lian queen is all you can do to stay alive.

And if you think you can scheme your way out of them killing you, know that I shall kill you.

I vow before the Goddess, I will kill you.

“But only after I kill your three legitimate sons. Then I will kill your four bastard sons, and I shall serve all seven heads to you in your bed. And when you wake amid your sons’ heads, you will know your time has come.

Only then shall I kill you. And you shall die in the most painful way known to Amadans.

You have witnessed closely what it is to die of Renya’s kiss.

You stood and watched as Rutanna and I were dying for a week, begging for the release of death.

By the Goddess, it will bring unspeakable pleasure to me to see you suffer as I once did under your indifferent eyes. ”

Rashkan swallows hard. Her words are dripping with venom and promise.

I don’t know if Nikanor’s death has shaken her so much or if the memory of her dying haunts her, but I believe her.

I believe that she will take pleasure in killing this man and his children in the worst ways, and I don’t want to dwell on what she has become.

Every time I think badly of her, she does something noble, and every time I think of her with high esteem, she goes psycho. She is a conundrum to me.

Rashkan sighs and massages his temples with his fingers.

The truth is that if he wishes to live, he is tied to us.

None of the other families will ever let him live.

Least of all Dorem. As the head of the church, Rashkan knows all their dirty little secrets, and he used them to subdue them to my father and for his own benefit.

And the Queen of Renya has just explained to him that even if he can escape that fate in some cunning way, Renya will see him dead.

He knows firsthand that no Aldonian healer will ever be able to save him.

“How will you make me a queen? My mother is Renyan, my hair is white, and my mate is Mongan. How will you keep us both alive?” I ask him, noticing how the words mate and Mongan make him cringe.

He sighs, then says begrudgingly, “First, we’ll bring back Nikanor as a war hero. He was killed by the demichads.”

“But he was seen after the battle,” I interrupt him .

“Leave that to me,” he grunts. It sounds ridiculous, but Siean doesn’t seem to doubt he can pull it off, so I don’t push it any further.

“You are the great savior. Sun subjected animals to your will. You have saved us from the demichads. Your hair is the mark you were given as the savior who will succeed in ruling all of Amada. You were chosen by Sun himself to rule all of Amada. All races bow to you. Even the Cursed Ones.” He pauses. “But you are a virgin.”

I snort. Then I realize he was being serious.

“I am not,” I quip at him. Not bothering to mention it was not Daton who made me such but the Puresoul Rod tried to ally with. I would rather not mention that even to myself.

“Yes, you are. You are purer than any Aldonian woman who has ever lived. And anyone who says otherwise will be killed by the church for blasphemy,” he insists.

“No.” He can’t take Daton away from me. I’m not naive, I know he can’t sit on Aldon’s throne, but I will not erase him from my life.

“This is how I can make you queen. A Cursed One can never be part of it. I’m not saying you can’t be discreet. We all have our hidden sins, as your sister seems to understand very well already.”

His acceptance of my relationship in private is not lost on me. Something my brother would never consider. Is he trying to please me, or is he being pragmatic, seeking only power, and was never a fanatic racist? I suspect it is both.

“I know that. But I won’t hide him,” I insist, unwilling to betray the love Daton and I have.

“Then you’ll die, as will I.” He spreads his hands in acceptance.

“There must be another way.” I frown and glance at Siean. Her face reflects my pain, and it’s like being punched because she doesn’t believe there is another way, and for some reason, it saddens her.

“You are the one Amada speaks to. Tell me what other way there is,” he says in an appeasing tone as if willing to consider another solution.

But I know Aldon. My brother acted in a way most Aldonian men would.

They would rather kill their sisters than lose face in front of other men.

It happens all the time in Aldon for far less.

“Change takes time. You will have the power to redeem his people. To protect them from being hunted for their horns. You could give them land. But only if our people believe you to be a believer of the True Religion.” His voice is honey-coated as if he is already my adviser.

“No.” I shake my head and fight the tears I feel in the backs of my eyes.

“You can’t burn down the throne and still sit on it.” He now sounds frustrated with my adamance.

“Then no one will sit on it,” I challenge.

“That is not how power works. Power is never an orphan. It is never unclaimed.”

Siean intervenes. “If Dorem takes the throne, what will he decide for the Cursed Ones’ fate? For the Kozaries, for the Renyans? What will he choose for the Aldonian women? You can’t pretend there will be no consequences for your absence from the race for power. There will not be a void.”

“Would you hide your love to keep the throne?” I ask her bitterly.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” Her voice is gruff. “I do know, if I loved someone, I would do anything to keep them safe, including staying away from them, including hiding how I feel toward them.”