Chapter 19: Cruel, Cruel World

(DANNY FARRANT AND PAUL RAWSON)

In front of them is a desert field filled with sand, flesh, blood, and bones. More vultures circle above, some sit on the ground, tugging meat off bones. Other birds of prey join them.

“Twenty-four left on that killing mission,” the king proclaims. “Two in the compound knew and chose not to warn us. By the time we realized they were gone and dispatched a rescue party, it was too late. They came from the compound, Blaire, but we didn’t send them. They are rogues. Nothing but a band of mutineers.”

Blaire turns to the others. They were mourning, obviously. Fathers. Brothers. Mothers. Sisters. Children.

“Do they blame me?” she asks, looking directly at Grigory.

“They…” King Vasiliev starts, but she lifts a hand to quiet him, because he is fighting for his people.

“Most do, yes.” Boris’ words are neither soft nor harsh.

Grigory swallows, his Adam’s apple jumping nervously. “If you hold back the Purple Airplane, I will wed you, return to the farm. I’ll help you rebuild your home and family. And marriage will bring peace between our families.”

Gasps rise from the crowd, but Blaire holds her own reaction inside. Does his words surprise her? Certainly. But this is a war, and she is standing on enemy territory. Trapped behind enemy lines. Plus, unlike the movies, there is no team or lone hero that will come to rescue her in the last moments before death.

She is alone with only Purple Airplane to assist.

“Red King hated chains,” she says, softly rubbing her hands together. “I won’t take slaves with me to The Farm. We set people free; we don’t enslave them.”

He snorts. “I won’t be a slave. If you were not so easily fooled by Luka’s charm, poetry and handsome looks, you would have seen me standing there, in the shadows, loving you.”

She shrugs. He obviously thinks she never noticed, but she did. He wasn’t hiding it, even though he was shy in love.

“I will go with you,” Boris says. “You don’t have to wed me if you don’t want to.”

King Vasiliev nods in agreement. “Grigory is a kind, wise and strong man. He will be a much better husband to you than Luka was.”

“And, like I mentioned,” Grigory says, “a marriage will put an end to the enmity between our people. If you can find it in your heart to move forward without killing. Even though vengeance is due to you. We ask that the unnecessary killing stops here, in this field.”

She snorts. “There is already an empty chamber in my gun, Grigory. There’s no way to undo the deeds already done. Not mine or yours.” She nods to the field of blood and bones. “It’s a fucking cruel world.”

Blaire looks at the bloody scene around her through squinted eyes. Her head buzzes with possibilities. They are going all out to persuade her. They are moving from a place of fear. Upon her capture, they stripped her of anything that could be a weapon. Only there was none. No guns. No knives, except the one that she used on Pyotr, which she disregarded at the scene. But she would not come here without a weapon. Not when she has vengeance on her mind. The only logical conclusion to make is that she has poison. There are no bottles or vials in her bags. No liquid drops or stones. No powders. They are like headless chicken, running around blind. Blaire almost feels sorry for them.

“I need time to think,” she says. “And solitude to do it in.”

King Vasiliev motions with his hand, and the people turn toward their houses on the hill. Once they are gone, they can share a meal and wine. She nods, already knowing she won’t eat it. What she wants, most of all, is a bath.

“I’d like to stay,” Grigory says. “But if you need me to go, I will.”

“I want to walk,” she whispers, pointing at the field of flesh and blood. “If you’ll help me, I’d appreciate that.”

Boris takes King Vasiliev’s arm, and they trudge up the hill. She waits until everyone is gone, then reaches for Grigory’s arm. He doesn’t pick her up, like before. Taking her by the upper arm, he lifts her to her feet. She hooks her arm into the crook of his, and they stroll a few steps across the blood-splattered soil. Once they reach the middle of the field, she realizes its impossible to read the blood like this. She needs to touch it, feel it on her skin. She stops abruptly, feeling him tugging at her to move along. This must be horrible for him.

“Will you take off my boots?” she asks.

He goes down on one knee, patting the other knee for her to sit on.

She smiles, slowly sitting down. “For a moment, I thought you were going to propose properly.”

Everything aches. Her flesh, bones, heart, and soul.

“I want to,” he says and unzips one boot. “But not here. Not surrounded by all this blood and guts.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about all this,” she says as he slips the first boot off.

His hand freezes at the next boot’s zipper. “About my proposal?”

She shakes her head from side to side. “About another field of bones,” she whispers. “When we finish, and all is over, let them bury their dead. I have enough bones rattling in my closet already.”

“Their families will forever be indebted to you for this kindness,” he answers.

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She can hear the gratitude in the tone. It is important to bury the dead. To put them to rest. Else, they will haunt you and your descendants forever.

“Indebted enough to forgive me?” she asks, already knowing the answer. “To let me leave alive? To allow me to live a long, prosperous life? To allow me to have a new family?”

“You are an astute woman,” he answers. “What do you think?”

She stands on the warm soil, feeling the blood beneath her feet. Closing her eyes, she whispers the spell to read the blood soaking into her pores. Feel the dirty, sinful nature of it flow through her system, hitting her heart like a boxer’s glove. She walks the field from one side to the other, and crisscross. The blood was from only guilty men. For a while, she pondered the idea that they picked up random vagrants to fool her.

Finally, satisfied, she gestures for Grigory to bring the chair. She feels drained of energy.

“Is that why you offered the marriage?” she asks.

A nervous tick in his cheek betrays him. “You know me, Blaire. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“I’m sorry. Of course it isn’t. Did you keep the ring? The one with the stone as green as my eyes?”

He looks at her with raised eyebrows. “You knew about the ring?”

“Yes,” she answers. “But you never came forward. A week went by. Then a month. And another month. A year. Two. Three. And all the time I was waiting for you, Luka was sweet talking himself into my life. What was I supposed to do? Wait forever?”

“And you let him, knowing that I wanted you too.”

“He asked and asked. I always said no.”

“Until the day you didn’t say no.”

“Until the day you no longer carried my ring on the chain around your neck. On that day, I lost all hope that you’d ever have courage enough to ask.”

“I was a fool then,” he says, gazing at the horizon.

He looks so much like his grandfather at the moment. He will make an outstanding leader one day. There is no way she can take him away with her. He is the legacy of King Vasiliev. She can’t turn back the clock to undo the mistakes she made, but she can move forward with more wisdom.

“You have never been a fool, Grigory. A coward, maybe, but a fool, never.”

“I still consider letting you get away as the worst decision of my life.”

She takes his hand in hers, squeezing it. He returns the gesture.

“I am satisfied that these are the men who did the deed,” she whispers.

He chuckles. “Forever the unbeliever.”

“Not an unbeliever,” she says. “I’m just not wet behind the ears anymore. Neither are you. We all made choices and crossed lines.”

“You have an icy heart,” he says, pulling his hand from hers.

“Take my ring out of your pocket,” she says. “I want to see it.”

“How did you know?”

“Just assume that I know everything,” she answers as he holds the silver ring out to her.

“Promise not to take Boris as a second husband. I don’t want to share you with another man again.”

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

He smiles and winks at her. “You asked for the ring,” he says. “So, yeah, that is a yes.”

“I’m tired of all the blood,” she says. “But you need to know that I won’t forgive and won’t forget.”

“Enough people have died,” he agrees.

“I can see how you feel that way,” she says. “But you understand I don’t feel that way, don’t you? Fifty people to, what ten, eleven?”

“Don’t forget about the ones you killed on the way here,” he says.

“Mercenaries? They don’t count.”

She touches his face with her fingertips. “I want the ring. And a child. A robust child with Snake and Bull ancestry. One that will survive. One to build an empire on.”

“I will give you such a child. And I will build that empire with you.”

He held out the ring to her. She had never held it, of course. Only seen it from afar. It wasn’t a delicate thing. It is sturdy, ready to get to work. Broad silver band with a large round emerald stone. Her family jewelry is gone. No earrings. Gone are the strings of chains and pearls, the wooden beads that usually adorn her neck. Her fingers feel vulnerable and naked. Unprotected.

They stripped her completely. Took everything of value. Left her to standalone in this cruel world. She also knew they’d confiscated her weapons. That is why she carries the Purple Airplane inside her body. Hidden in her veins. Each time they make her bleed, the poison spreads. Those close to her breath it in, and when they return home, they exhale it there, infecting the others. Within twenty-four hours, all of them can be dead. If she wishes, everyone except her and the child that Grigory will plant within her womb will die. She undresses, carelessly flinging her garments off. He watches her, still holding the ring.

“Now?” he asks, flabbergasted.

“This is my new vengeance,” she says, motioning to the surrounding field. “In the middle of this carnage, you will fill my womb with your seed. Right here, on the soil blessed with your sacrifice. This way, when I leave, I won’t relive or regret what happened here.”

Shock washes over his face as his eyes run up and down her naked frame. She looks down at herself, noticing the bruises, the minor cuts and larger bleeding wounds. Her wrists and ankles are purple from pulling at the constraints. She looks about as sexy as a plugged, frozen chicken. But then, this isn’t a love story. Vengeance walks too close to the edge of death to be elegant or beautiful.

“Sacrifice?” his voice trembles.

“Look around you,” she says, waving her hand in a large gesture to incorporate the cruel scenery. “You sacrificed these men to me. As if I am your god, and you need to pacify me.”

“That’s not what this is about,” he says.

“Or it can be a way to steal my vengeance. The guilty paid, haven’t they? So I should just turn away and go home. Forgive and forget.”

He frowns, the hand with the ring slightly dipping, but only slightly.

“It’s not that either,” he whispers.

She lays down on the ground, motioning to him with a hand. “Then we will create a new life in the carnage of this sacrifice.”

“People will…” he can’t find the words to make his protest sound acceptable to her.

“They will hate me? Surely not more than they do right now. Or do you believe that one with my power can’t feel their hatred radiate all the way from the hill?”

He had nothing to answer her words. “This, then, is my counter offer. We have sex right now, right here. My womb is ready for a baby.”

“And my people? What will happen to them?”

She snickers, rising slowly. He doesn’t reach down to help her. She dresses carefully. Movements are slow. Her muscles feel numb, her brain fizzy. Everything hurts.

“You see, Grigory, this is the problem with your offer. You make it under duress. I don’t want a slave. I don’t even want a husband. I only want a child. One robust child. Your family has swallowed up my family. You are trying to trick me. You are so twisted. You have an ice cold heart. I never knew that about you.”

He swallows audibly, eyes large and round and white in his dark-skinned face. She leans closer, taking the ring from his shaking fingers.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“This isn’t my ring,” Blaire says, holding the ring out to him. “It has the right shape, and it's silver with an emerald, but the one you wore around your neck, wanting to give it to me, belonged to your grandmother. I could feel its energy reaching out to me. Enchanted with years and years of love flowing from one generation into the next, it called to me. This one is beautiful, but it has no voice. It is as empty as the marriage proposal you make. When I look into your eyes now, I don’t see love. There are only secrets and lies etched there.”

“What?”

“The jig is up, babe,” she says. “The only reason you made the offer is because you were unsure that this massacre,” she gestures to the surrounding scene, “is enough to temper my bloodlust.”

“Is it?”

“You are astute, Grigory. What do you think?”

He twists his hands repeatedly. “Granddad said it was a fool’s errand. He knew you would see right through the gesture, but we had to take the chance.”

She reaches down to pick up her boots, wiggling her tired feet into the blood stained leather. “Call your people back so we can end this.”

By the time they arrive, quiet and with worried faces, she is ready to face them.