Tlazohtzin’s widow and brother sat as far apart from each other as my current table would allow them to.

I originally planned to enjoy my breakfast with Nenetl, but Iztacoatl’s cruel prank—if I could call watching a corpse give birth to stillborn abominations a prank—and new circumstances forced me to slightly adjust my agenda. Instead, I had summoned Zyanya and Tlaxcala to discuss their futures. I invited Necahual as my favorite, alongside Ingrid, since she was my diplomacy advisor.

Predicting the bad blood between the late Tlazohtzin’s relatives, I had ordered my servants to bring a smaller table than the one I usually used, to force them to stay close. Even then, they hardly touched their food.

“You seem unsettled, Lady Zyanya,” I commented before sipping my chocolate cup. “Are you ill?”

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” she replied with trembling hands. “However…”

Ingrid graciously offered her a way out to save face. “You still think of your late husband.”

“Indeed,” Lady Zyanya replied with a sigh. “My husband was a traitor, but the sight of Your Majesty wearing his skin… I would lie if I said that it did not frighten me.”

It was a fine excuse, but one that I struggled to fully believe. Lady Zyanya had traded her black widow’s robes for a lighter blend of brown and green. The significance of her wardrobe change wasn’t lost on me. Her husband’s fate hadn’t inspired enough compassion in her to stay faithful to his memory.

The true cause of Lady Zyanya’s distress stealthily walked behind her, causing her spine to stiffen with tension. Itzili’s presence at my side disturbed my guests, as it should.

Over a week and a half had passed since I gave Itzili my sun-blessed blood. He had been only slightly larger than a dog before then.

Now?

Now he could probably challenge a jaguar to a fight and win.

Iztili had grown so large that his head reached all the way up to my chest, and his length matched that of an adult man. He would only need a small hop to place someone’s head between his mighty jaws. Were I not used to fighting monsters, I would have found him greatly intimidating too.

“It usually takes a feathered tyrant four years to complete their growth cycle,” my menagerie handler had told me when he brought Itzili to me, sweating all the way. “But I’ve never seen one gain two hundred pounds in ten days’ time. At this rate, Itzili will reach his adult size before Your Majesty’s reign ends.”

The symbolism wasn’t lost on me. I had received Itzili on the first day of my tenure and he might reach maturity on its last. Was that the result of my blood hastening his growth? Itzili had already shown early signs of increased size beforehand, so maybe he was born slightly abnormal. That or supernatural forces were at work.

Moreover, Itzili’s brown feathers were starting to gain a black hue; the same as my owl wings in the Underworld. I took it as a good sign.

“The gods saw fit that I would ride him to war against our enemies,” I had told the handler. “See that he remains well-fed.”

“As Your Majesty wishes,” the man had replied with a deep bow. “Should we start training the honored Itzili to accept a rider?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

I already knew that he would obey me.

I sensed it in the connection between our Teyolias. The blood I had fed to Itzili formed a bond between us. A kinship of the flesh, almost familial.

Itzili seemed to know what I wanted without me having to say it out loud. Not only did he not touch the food on display, showing remarkable restraint for an animal, but he also circled the table for a time like a hunter on the prowl. It quietly intimidated Lady Zyanya and Tlaxcala into silence.

Eventually, Itzili sat on a bed of cushions to my left. Necahual sent him a few worried glances now and then, though my pet didn’t spare her a glance. Ingrid alone appeared unbothered by his presence. She even dared to ruffle Itzili’s feathers, which he graciously allowed.

Having a pet feathered tyrant at my side will do wonders for my public image.

“While I cannot return your husband’s remains to you, know that he was buried properly,” I informed Zyanya. That was a complete and utter lie, but one that the widow graciously chose to believe. “He has atoned for his sins with his death.”

“I wish to reassure Your Majesty of my loyalty,” Tlaxcala quickly said. “My brother was born a traitor. In the name of my late father, I swear that I shall wipe away the stain he has left on our family’s name.”

“Is that so?” I replied with a wry smile. “I’ve placed high hopes on you, Tlaxcala. I pray to the First Emperor that you will not disappoint them.”

The barely veiled threat caused Tlaxcala to cough in embarrassment. Lady Zyanya, never one to miss an opportunity, immediately seized her chance to put him down.

“If Your Majesty will forgive the interruption,” she said, “But Tlaxcala has disappointed his own father’s expectations time and time again. He is unworthy of your trust.”

“Quiet, woman,” Tlaxcala rasped at her, his voice brimming with anger. “This inheritance is my birthright. Our wise emperor already agreed to give it to me.”

“Because he has not yet learned of your incompetence,” Lady Zyanya insisted. She didn’t even spare her brother-in-law a glance. “You have ruined every enterprise that your sire gave you.”

“Lies!” Tlaxcala protested before quickly turning back to me. “Forgive me for my outburst, Your Divine Majesty, but listen not to this viper! All of my associates have benefited from my connections and guidance!”

These two make quite the pair. Necahual scowled at my side. Unlike Ingrid and I, she didn’t quite manage to hide her disdain yet. They are cut from the same cloth.

Itzili suddenly growled and unveiled his sharp teeth. My guests wisely fell silent.

“Enough of this pointless bickering,” I said sharply. “Such disputes are what disappointed the gods and let our foes poison our citizens with lies. We shall mend my realm’s wounds, not let them fester.”

“My lord speaks wisely,” Ingrid complimented me. As usual, she played the role of a courtier perfectly. “If a family is a body, then Tlazohtzin was rot that had to be excised. I suggest knitting the flesh back together into a stronger whole.”

“You speak wisely, Ingrid,” Necahual said. “His Majesty indeed awarded Tlaxcala his blessing, but an innocent widow is entitled to financial support no matter her husband’s crimes.”

“You both have a point,” I replied. Of course, we had already rehearsed this discussion before the actual meeting. “I have reached a decision.”

Tlaxcala and Lady Zyanya straightened up.

“The two of you belong to noble bloodlines, and the friendship between your families is a precious bond that must be preserved.” Or should I say, a precious resource I intended to exploit. “You shall wed one another.”

Lady Zyanya’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You wish us to marry?”

While his sister-in-law kept her composure, Tlaxcala looked fit to gag. “Your Majesty, with all due respect–”

I didn’t let him finish.

“From now on, you shall no longer be foes. Instead, you shall support each other in all things.” I glared at the future couple. “I have no doubt that together you will not fail and disappoint me as Tlazohtzin did.”

My veiled threat silenced them both. Moreover, Itzili observed them with his cold, unblinking reptilian eyes. His was the gaze of a savage hound waiting for his master’s order to attack. I had the distinct impression that he didn’t like either of my guests. Perhaps he sensed their fickle morals.

In either case, these two understood my message: they would either get along or die.

Ingrid wisely showed them the bright side of the arrangement. “Obedience is the virtue that leads to prosperity,” she said. “My lord speaks for the gods. Blessed are those who heed his words, for they shall enjoy bountiful lives.”

In short, loyalty would earn them my favor. I, who alone among all emperors in the empire’s history, spoke with the First Emperor’s voice and cast a great curse upon my enemies. I was the first man with real power to ever sit on Yohuachanca’s throne. Only fools would refuse a direct order from me.

Lady Zyanya and Tlaxcala exchanged a quick glance, before the latter bowed his head on their behalf. “Your Majesty’s wishes are our own,” Tlaxcala said. “When would this wedding take place?”

I suppressed a smile at this quick turnaround. As I suspected, their ambition trumped their mutual dislike of each other. This play had gone on without a hitch so far.

Now it was time for the twist ending.

I glanced at my pet. “What do you think, Itzili?”

Everyone looked at me in confusion, even Ingrid and Necahual. Their surprise was genuine. I specifically avoided informing either of them to better sell this fraud. Itzili looked up at me as I ruffled his feathers.

Then he answered me.

In coos and hisses instead of words, true… but to an outsider, it would seem as if he was telling me something. His reaction was better than anything I’d expected. Itzili let out a low rumbling noise, then pointed at Tlaxcala and Zyanya with his nose. His tongue slithered between his sharp teeth.

Somehow, I managed to understand his desire through our blood bond. Itzili’s thoughts were simple, clear, and without ambiguity.

He wanted to eat these two. Raw, if possible.

I was almost tempted to fulfill his wish, but alas, necessity ruled.

“I see,” I muttered to myself. “Interesting.”

I focused back on my guests, acting as if nothing unusual had just happened; and ignoring the confusion in their eyes. I had to act subtly for now. Just give the feeling that something was wrong without going overboard. A sudden personality shift would seem like an act.

“It seems to me that although Zachilaa’s loyalty remains unquestioned, its people have grown dissolute enough to mingle with the enemy,” I declared with a prophet’s resolve. “The eruption has no doubt weakened their faith further. They need a reminder of what it is to believe.”

A worried frown spread on Lady Zyanya’s face. “Will Your Majesty order a purge?”

At least she seemed worried for her hometown’s safety. I took note of it, in case I could exploit it later.

“No need,” I replied with a bright smile. “I already intend to visit areas devastated by Smoke Mountain’s wrath. I shall complete this journey by visiting Zachilaa and celebrating your wedding in person. Your union will herald the beginning of a new prosperous age for Yohuachanca.”

Tlaxcala, ever the perfect butt-kisser, immediately bowed. “Your Majesty’s generosity knows no bounds. To receive your personal blessing on such a sacred day would be nothing short of a miracle.”

“Your presence would certainly honor my people,” Lady Zyanya replied with calculating eyes. She was clearly the better politician of the two and already considering how to exploit the situation.

Necahual shifted in her seat, her eyes narrowing. “Will His Majesty take his rights?”

Was that a hint of distaste I detected in her voice? I couldn’t blame her after what she went through. As emperor, I was entitled to the first night of any bride. A tradition Necahual suffered from on her own wedding.

“The gods have not spoken yet,” I replied diplomatically. A polite way to say I couldn’t answer in the open. I suspected that if I said no, Iztacoatl would take a malignant pleasure in forcing me to forswear myself.

Besides, although I had no intention of following through with it if I could, leaving the matter hanging would force others to take a stand.

To outwit Iztacoatl, I would need to foster a climate of uncertainty. I doubted that her pride would let her admit that she let a human slap her twice, so that would likely remain our little secret. However, there was a high chance that Iztacoatl would take revenge on my consorts and concubines in order to hurt me through them. Eztli and her mother would remain off-limits to ensure the former’s collaboration, but everyone else was a potential target.

I hoped that my sudden plan to visit Zachilaa would prove surprising enough for her. At best, it would distract her; at worst, she would likely spend her efforts trying to sabotage the trip out of spite.

Sad as it sounded, that was partly why I put so much effort into Tlaxcala and Zyanya. The more interest I showed in them, the more Iztacoatl would believe that I valued them; and I would rather see these two victimized than those I actually cared about, like Ingrid.

I glanced at my consort and, much to my frustration, I immediately recalled that awful parody of her mother’s corpse. The memory of her squirming belly and those horrendous children sickened me. The thought alone soured my mood.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Tayatzin knocked at my door and entered my quarters soon after. That man had a knack for interrupting me at the worst of times.

“I asked not to be disturbed,” I chided him.

“Forgive me, oh Godspeaker.” His apology sounded sincere at least. “I come on Lady Eztli’s behalf. She insists on visiting you with haste.”

Necahual’s head immediately perked up at the mention of her daughter’s name. Eztli wouldn’t interrupt us this way unless she had a very good reason. I hoped it wasn’t related to my last encounter with Iztacoatl.

“Bring her in,” I told Tayatzin before turning to my current guests. “You are dismissed for now. Tayatzin, please escort them outside.”

“As Your Majesty wishes,” my attendant replied.

Tlaxcala and Lady Zyanya excused themselves with deep bows and formal courtesies. Itzili watched them leave with Tayatzin with clear regret that a potential meal had escaped his jaws.

The scene caused Ingrid to crack a smile. “My lord has grown confident and speaks with authority.”

“Was that not always the case?” I quipped back.

“No, it wasn’t,” Ingrid replied with a sly chuckle. “Although it is a change for the better.”

It only cost me a few months of torture. Still, I preferred it when others obeyed my whims instead of throwing stones at my face.

Eztli didn’t enter my quarters alone. Much to my surprise, a retinue of three followed in her wake: her handmaiden Atziri and two red-eyed priests carrying a flute and drum respectively. Itzili immediately looked up at them with wariness before cooing at Eztli.

“My my, look how you have grown,” Eztli said upon ruffling Itzili’s feathers. My pet responded by lovingly butting his muzzle against her legs. “The last time I saw you, you barely reached my ankles.”

“He is quite affectionate,” Ingrid commented. She began to scratch Itzili’s neck, which he greatly appreciated. “He seems to like us both.”

Because he shared my feelings. I’d heard pets reflected their owner’s behavior. The blood bond we shared had only strengthened that tendency.

“Itzili can tell true friends apart from fake ones,” I said. “He is a wise beast.”

Ingrid’s eyes moved from Itzili to me. “My lord, if I may ask… what happened between Itzili and you?”

I raised an eyebrow and feigned confusion. “Forgive me Ingrid, but I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Ingrid and I exchanged a brief stare, and she pressed no further. I couldn’t tell whether she had guessed my plan or simply knew to hold her tongue. Whatever the case, we all acted as if the Itzili incident never happened.

Eztli, however, couldn’t suppress her curiosity. “What happened?” she asked before sitting on my lap as if she owned it. “Do tell, I wish to know.”

Necahual snorted in disdain. “Your husband speaks to animals now.”

Eztli let out a sly chuckle. “Don’t we all, Mother?”

Necahual’s head turned so quickly I thought she would snap her neck. For over a month she had been forced to keep her head down to avoid Yoloxochitl’s wrath; she held her tongue each time her own daughter treated her as a stranger for both of their sakes. From the look on Necahual’s face, my mother-in-law half-expected Yoloxochitl’s ghost to escape her father’s gullet and punish her daughter’s insolence.

“Eztli, I…” Necahual cleared her throat, a flash of fear seizing her. “You do not know–”

“I meant what I said, Mother.” Eztli glowed with pride and joy when she said that last word. Each time she said it further dispelled the curse of Yoloxochitl’s memory. “We don’t have to hold our tongues anymore. I’m free now.” Eztli scoffed. “Well, freer.”

None of us would be free so long as the other Nightlords remained to continue their sister’s work, but Eztli’s chains had indeed loosened. She fearlessly grabbed her mother’s arm and gently pulled her closer to her. After a short moment’s hesitation, Necahual let go of her worries. Her arms closed around Eztli in a tight, mutual hug. The daughter squeezed with her immense strength and the mother looked like she was holding back tears.

For all the disdain that I still held for Necahual, part of me couldn’t help but feel happy for her. Her crimes against me didn’t warrant the loss of her husband and daughter. The Eztli she raised remained lost to vampirism, but Necahual at least managed to recover part of her.

My attention turned to Ingrid, who watched the scene with a forlorn look in her eyes. My joy immediately turned to sorrow. To see the woman who could have died in her mother’s place hug her daughter tightly probably opened old wounds.

“Ingrid–” I said, but she didn’t let me finish.

“I am well, my lord.” Ingrid lied so well. “Thank you for your concern.”

“I apologize, Ingrid,” Necahual told Ingrid with slight awkwardness upon letting her daughter go. I’d rarely seen that woman express shame for anything, but today was an exception. “We shouldn’t… not after you…”

“I do not blame either of you for living,” Ingrid replied with a forced smile. “The heavens alone willed that Mother would die.”

Her words were flowery enough to hide the venom underneath. Necahual clearly wasn’t fooled in the slightest. I supposed it took a grudge-keeper to know one. They shared a kinship forged from common hatred.

“You are not without family, Ingrid,” Eztli said, her hand slyly resting on her fellow consort’s thigh. “I consider you a sister-in-arms.”

“You are too kind, Eztli,” Ingrid replied with genuine warmth. “The feeling is mutual.”

These two have become friends, or something close. Eztli had comforted Ingrid in her darkest hour much like myself. Funny how a small act of kindness could earn someone’s lifelong loyalty. Kindness is all the more valuable for its rarity.

A shy gulp suddenly reminded me of Atziri’s presence in the room. My gaze turned to her and the two musicians. I quickly noticed that the shade of red in their eyes appeared paler than most of their kind. How odd.

“Whose priests are those?” I asked Eztli.

“Is it not obvious?” My consort smiled ear to ear, her fangs shining behind her lips. “They’re mine.”

A chill traveled down my spine. “You fed them your blood?”

“The old bats allowed me to share it with four blessed chosen,” Eztli confirmed. “I picked these two eunuchs for their entertainment value, since they can perform with Atziri. I haven’t settled on my other picks yet.”

“It is magnanimous of the goddesses to grant you the right to select your own priests, Eztli,” Ingrid noted. “It must be an honor reserved for a… handful of Nightkin.”

The wording and its implications caused Eztli to giggle. Neither of them could confirm Yoloxochitl’s death out loud, but they had clearly confirmed it between each other.

My eyes lingered on the priests. I could hardly blame Eztli for feeding her blood to others to recruit assets when I did the same thing myself. I was planning to remove her curse one way or another anyway; with luck, it would strip these two of their blood addictions without causing them to perish like Yoloxochitl’s priesthood.

Moreover, their instruments made me suspect why Eztli handpicked them.

“Can they dance?” I mused.

“Not yet,” Eztli replied with a chuckle. “But they can sing.”

Clever girl. “Show us then. I have some time left for pleasure before my training with Chikal.” I beckoned Ingrid and Necahual to come closer. “Let us enjoy ourselves.”

I pulled an arm around Ingrid and Necahual. Both leaned against me—the former more eagerly than the latter—while Eztli rested on my lap. We must have looked like the very picture of indolence as we lay on our bed of cushions.

The two priests began to play a powerful, rhythmic melody with both their instruments and high-pitched voices, which Atziri complemented with her dancing steps. Much to my amusement, Itzili moved slightly closer to these three to better focus on the spectacle. His presence clearly unsettled Atziri, but focusing on her work let her forget it. I wondered if she thought my pet would eat her if she provided a bad performance.

These two priests sing so well, I thought as I briefly glanced around the room. The music would cover our words, and none of Iztacoatl’s snakes would dare to sneak up on us in Itzili’s presence. We can talk without being spied upon.

However, I wasn’t foolish enough to speak too openly. I didn’t know the full extent of Iztacoatl’s powers. If she could create a near-perfect copy of Sigrun and her mannerisms, she might have planted a spy in Eztli’s retinue.

I was certain my consort and mother-in-law were the true ones. I had known Necahual and Eztli for many years, so I would have picked up on subtle mannerisms that an outsider would have overlooked. As for Ingrid, I sensed the same invisible chains that bound us to the Nightlords’ ritual.

We would need to develop additional measures in the future nonetheless. Secret passwords perhaps. I had to think about it.

“Did you learn more about Lady Yoloxochitl?” I whispered in my conspirators’ ears, our words drowned by the song. “Although Lady Iztacoatl dissuaded me from looking into her sister’s private life, I would like to honor her properly.”

Ingrid and Eztli immediately caught on to my evasive words and their hidden meaning: Iztacoatl knew we were investigating the late Yoloxochitl, so I wished to learn everything they’d gathered before we stopped; and in a way that would provide us plausible deniability.

“Lady Necahual and I have discovered interesting things about Lady Yoloxochitl,” Ingrid replied. “According to the information that we’ve gathered, she showed great favor to the town of Cuetlaxtlan and regularly visited it over the last few years.”

My fists clenched on their own. “Including the town’s hospice?”

“Indeed,” Ingrid confirmed. “Her priesthood used to oversee it until Lady Yoloxochitl withdrew her favor. Mayhaps my lord would like to fill the void?”

Necahual scowled in disgust, though she quickly caught on to our game. For all of her many flaws, stupidity wasn’t one of them. “Hospices are precious places worthy of an emperor’s attention,” she said. “What better place to test new medicine than on the sick?

I quickly figured out her words’ hidden meaning: what better way to test a plague than on those who were already ill? No one would suspect anything. When Necahual put it that way, the choice of location suddenly made a lot more sense.

Even after death, Yoloxochitl never ceased to disgust me.

“My thought exactly, Lady Necahual,” Ingrid said. “Hence why I have taken the liberty of gathering the names of the location’s healers, so my lord can reward them properly."

Excellent. I could Ride the staff members by using their names. Once again, Ingrid proved herself worthy of her mother’s reputation as a spymistress.

“I would like to offer them a gift of candles,” I said. “Something that will keep the flame of their faith alive in the darkest night.”

I needed flaming oil. Something that would help me burn the place to the ground.

Ingrid immediately formulated the plan. “Tlaxcala’s consortium can provide gifts. He has already tried to bribe Lady Necahual and me to influence you, so I can have him deliver the supplies.”

“Be subtle,” I warned Ingrid. “Lady Iztacoatl has forbidden me from peeking too much into Lady Yoloxochitl’s retreat. I do not want this gift to bear my name.”

“Worry not, my lord. I know a good many who would love to take the credit for your generosity.”

In short, she could secure catspaws to suffer the blame. Her efficiency drew a smile from Eztli. “Remind me never to make an enemy of you, my dear Ingrid. Something tells me I would not survive.”

“I do not plot against my friends,” Ingrid reassured her, though she added a caveat to the plan. “I will require time to fulfill my lord’s will.”

“How long?” I questioned her.

“A few days at most. We might already have left the palace by then.”

“That won’t be an issue.” I intended to Ride the hospice’s staff and then silence them. So long as I could have them access the resources required to set Yoloxochitl’s garden ablaze, I didn’t need to be anywhere near the palace. “Simply inform me when the gift has reached its destination. Fate will smile on us then.”

I’d gathered all the pieces required for the operation. The next step would be to wait for them to fall into place.

“I wonder what that hospice looks like on the inside,” I told Ingrid. “I have never visited it.”

As in, I needed a map of its layout.

“I am certain some of my lord’s servants could tell us more,” she replied. “Few, however, know such places inside and out; and they are too modest to boast.”

She could secure a map of the public places, but not the hidden areas. The people who could tell us wouldn’t share that information nor be vulnerable to bribes.

“I could make them sing for you, Iztac,” Eztli suggested.

“I would rather that you did not.” I shook my head. “As I said, Lady Iztacoatl would scold us if we show too much curiosity.”

Necahual’s jaw clenched on its own. “Mayhaps I could help with that.”

We had another option to learn the hospice’s layout. One that Necahual didn’t relish in the slightest.

The Augury only provided words and whispers, so I would require either the Ride or Seidr to obtain a visual map, and using the former prior to the operation’s day carried the risk of discovery.

Chamiaholom’s vicious words echoed in my mind the moment I glanced at Necahual. She fears bearing your child as much as she fears losing her daughter. Each of our couplings was a chore that she dreaded even at the best of times.

Ingrid’s eyes moved from me to Necahual and immediately picked up on our mutual awkwardness. Her hand seized mine, her finger smooth and her grip strong.

“If my lord wills it,” Ingrid whispered in my ear, her soft breath on my ear. “I would gladly take on that duty.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Mother taught me well,” Ingrid said with obvious enthusiasm. “Without demeaning your bond with Lady Necahual, I am simply better where it matters.”

Necahual’s expression softened slightly in relief, as did mine. Ingrid had a point. I had no need to sleep with Necahual every night to practice Seidr when I already had a more experienced partner. So long as I showered Necahual with gifts worthy of my favorite, we could limit sex to a minimum.

“Ingrid–” I said.

“No, Iztac,” Eztli interrupted me. “You mustn’t.”

Her answer took us all by surprise; though none more than her mother, whose eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Eztli held our gazes with utmost seriousness.

“You shouldn’t involve Ingrid in this way, or any consort for that matter,” she warned me. “It’s too risky.”

Now I was well and truly confused. “Why would it be?”

“Because of the fate that binds you together,” Eztli replied. “Think about it, Iztac. Iztacoatl and her sisters have blessed the five of us. If Ingrid and you acted together in concert, would she not notice?”

My eyes widened slightly. Was she suggesting that practicing Seidr with one of my consorts might alert the Nightlords through our bond to them?

I had to admit that I never considered the possibility. Now that Eztli pointed it out, doubt overwhelmed me.

“Is that possible?” I asked Ingrid. I prayed that her mother taught her the intricacies of her magic. “Would the goddesses know if we tried?”

“I…” Ingrid bit her lower lip as she pondered the possibility. “I cannot say, my lord. Mother and Lady Necahual remained beneath the Nightlords’ notice, but neither of them was a consort at the time.”

Eztli stroked her chin. “Did you try to approach Chikal about this, Iztac?”

“I tried and I failed,” I confessed. “We couldn’t agree on it.”

“Maybe that’s why,” Eztli suggested. “You weren’t meant to.”

I personally believed the issue lay in Chikal’s own domineering personality, but if Eztli’s hypothesis was correct, then my inability to practice Seidr with her would prove a blessing in disguise. Worst of all, I didn’t see any way of confirming or infirming it without doing the deed–with all the risks that it implied.

Mother could tell me more, I thought. She was familiar with Seidr and an experienced sorceress. But finding her might take too many nights.

Necahual’s lips twisted into a deep scowl. She exchanged a glance with her daughter for a time. The mother’s gaze wavered slightly, while the daughter remained stone-faced. Eztli’s transformation had snuffed out most of her humanity; and for all the love she still harbored for Necahual, it wasn’t enough to override her cold judgment.

Necahual folded. “I will do it.”

“Are you certain?” I asked her.

Necahual sneered at my pity. “I owe Lady Yoloxochitl my survival,” she replied with bitter resentment. “I would do anything to repay that debt.”

Necahual had promised to give me everything if I returned her daughter to her. I held true to my promise, and she was returning the favor. Ingrid didn’t hide her disappointment at my decision, but she did not argue either.

“Worry not, Ingrid,” Eztli said, her smile returning. “If our husband does not share your bed for work, he will do it for pleasure.”

“You make me blush,” Ingrid replied politely.

How odd. Although she kept her composure, I detected a faint trace of awkwardness in Ingrid’s voice; something I never noticed before. Did she offer to practice Seidr with me as an excuse to spend time with me? Was that what she meant when she offered me to start over? Not as friends, but as lovers?

I wouldn’t mind sharing Ingrid’s bed again, but I had no time for such frivolities right now. Not when the hourglass’ sand continued to tickle down.

“There is another matter we must discuss, Ingrid,” I informed her. “Your mother left an offering to her gods.”

Ingrid blinked in genuine surprise. “How would my lord know about this?”

“I know, that is all.” I trusted Ingrid, but the less she knew of my abilities, the safer she would be. “Gifts to false gods offend the true ones in Yohuachanca. It would wound my heart if this slander harmed their reputation.”

Eztli’s head perked up in interest, as did Necahual’s. Ingrid joined her hands and pondered the matter, a scowl spreading on her face.

I hoped she had figured out my message: that her Mother secured texts that could threaten the Nightlords under her altar, and that we needed to discreetly secure them.

“The gods have been watching me closely since Mother’s death, and I trust few with this matter,” she finally said. “Sparing them such a blasphemous sight might prove difficult.”

“I can help with that,” Eztli suggested. “I will ensure the heavens close their eyes when you require it.”

Ingrid’s frown eased up into a warm smile. “I would welcome your assistance, Eztli.”

The months I spent gathering allies and resources were finally starting to pay off. I was no longer waging this war alone with only the dead for supporters. I had friends to help me plan for the future and take down the Nightlords. So many heads moved by a single goal and will. It almost reminded me of the Parliament of Skulls—

I felt as if I had been struck by lightning.

The Legion worked by using the curse binding the emperors’ souls together to add a skull to their collective, a chain of which I was the latest link. This connection already allowed my predecessors to see through my eyes.

What if…

What if I had more than one skull?

Eztli immediately noticed my happy reaction. “Why are you smiling to yourself, Iztac?”

“A wicked idea crossed my mind,” I replied with a chuckle. “It would make you lose your head.”

I might have found a use for the Legion spell after all. One that wouldn’t require enslaving anyone.