Chào các bạn! Vì nhiều lý do từ nay Truyen2U chính thức đổi tên là Truyen247.Pro. Mong các bạn tiếp tục ủng hộ truy cập tên miền mới này nhé! Mãi yêu... ♥

7 | beproevingen en loyaliteit

The basket straps dug against her shoulders, flooding her with memories of the day everything started. Hesi clenched her jaw and glanced at the dark lump curled inside. Her gut swirled then stiffened, as though it couldn't decide whether to be disgusted. Inside the grounds of the Royal Palace, it was the least she felt.

They departed Festophis' fortress two days ago and arrived at the gates of Berheqt after a day stuffed inside a cart. She had the taste of what Pai, Unsu, and the other women from the breeding farm must have gone through. What happened to the batch she lost in the desert? Were some of them included in the final slate of bride candidates under Festophis' name?

She spent most of the trip and the entry to Berheqt coming to terms with the mess she entered. From what Festophis told them, the Mayaware royals came up with a new way to entertain themselves and get the prince a wife along the way. The generals—and she would bet an arm that any high-ranking and wealthy official participated as well—found their selection of potential human brides upon the order of the king. The brides were to compete and win the royals' approval. The official who pushed for the winning bride would be awarded handsomely.

The king's right hand—a perfect place to stab sideways and attain the crown for oneself. She didn't have many encounters with demons, but the greed glinting in their eyes betrayed that they were no better than humans. They would claw each other down, tear flesh, and gouge the eyes out of their kin if it meant having better access to wealth and power. Because like humans, the only thing the Mayaware were concerned with was survival.

She understood that. Respected it, even. But so long as her siblings hung in the balance, she would never forgive them.

So, when they stepped out of the cart and into the Royal Capital, she was the first to note the exit routes, the number of guards per outpost, and the volume of crowds striding in and out of the gates. Everything. And after spending the rest of the night in the bridal palace—a lowly building in the outskirts of Berheqt the demons stashed them into—she concluded the Royal Capital was enormous. It would take at least a day to get to the other side and another to go back. With how detached the bridal palace was from the rest of the consequential palaces, facilities, and gardens with ridiculous names, she understood that the Mayaware were determined to remind humans where they stand. And how close they could be before they get killed.

It was alright. She was a patient hunter despite the ticking dial over her head. She only had until Pai's moon-cycle to frolic around—she reminded herself. No time to waste. The quicker, the better.

Come morning, she was awoken, rather rudely, by Mayaware attendants—female demons who were the least likely to eat them—, shoving her in the courtyard of the bridal palace, right into Festophis' face. The general gave them a rundown of what would happen. It was their first trial about what the only quality the demon prince's wife must have: loyalty.

Was fate giving her stellar crap? It was easy to think so as the potential brides received baskets with live demon saplings inside after arriving at a separate quadrant in Berheqt. There were a handful of women on the starting point aside from Festophis' slate, and over three-quarters paled upon the notion of sharing air with a docile demonic offspring.

Then, each woman received specific tasks they must do before the sun reached its peak. That was when they would win this trial. The more trials a bride won, the more likely she would be the one selected by the Mayaware royals.

And the royals were watching now. She picked her way through the quadrant's empty streets, feeling eyes bore into her back, daring her to act out of turn. To give herself away as someone who has an ill goal. She hunkered down and acted scared. She would play along to this charade if she has to.

The alley came to a dead end. She skidded to a stop and craned her neck up. Buildings hewn out of stone towered overhead.Their walls, pockmarked with uneven cuts of debris and swatches of sand and dirt, warped against the humid air. Shades of amber, apricot, and tangerine pecked at her periphery. Everywhere she looked, desert colors fought for her attention.

She swiped an arm over her hairline. Her skin came up wet. Scratchy particles clung to her trousers. Her boots crunched over tufts of dry grass on her way out of the dead end and into an adjacent alley. The trial would end soon, and she was nowhere near fulfilling her task. How hard could retrieving a fruit from the only prosperous tree in this quadrant be?

As mule crap as it was, she saw why such was the case when she tore through the abandoned streets, running in circles in search for a splotch of green. This might once have been a residential area, judging from the awnings, broken clay shards, and splinters of wood strewn around. Were the residents forced out because of the trial or had this been empty for so long? If it was the latter, why?

She zipped across the street, and her gaze landed on her prize. A lone date tree stood alone in the circle of barrenness. With the alley wider than those she traversed, it almost resembled the center of town. She should have gone here first. She wouldn't have to waste the time she did.

Either way, she found it. She would get it, and she was done, right? Too easy.

She tilted her head up, squinting against the sunlight. Only one bunch of dates dangled between the drooping, wiry blades. They weren't even ripe. Where had the rest gone?

"That's mine." A voice speared behind her. Hesi turned to find another woman stepping off the shadows between two houses. A similar basket sat on her shoulders and back. Beige sleeves covered her arms, unlike Hesi's exposed skin. "Step away from the tree."

Hesi narrowed her eyes. She doubted this woman could take her on in a hand-to-hand brawl, but one glance at the basket's content told her she must avoid getting physical. She didn't want to risk waking the sapling up. It wouldn't take a sage to know that when demons wake, they would be hungry. And if they couldn't find their mother, they would snap the head of the first pound nearest them, which were Hesi and the other brides.

She understood it now. This was a trial, not a walk down the dune.

"What is your task?" Hesi ventured.

The woman stepped forward the same time Hesi skidded backward. "What is it to you?"

Hesi glanced at the single stalk of dates. "Do you think the tree deliberately produced one bunch on the day of the trial?" she asked. "What is your task?"

"To make sure you never bring that stalk back to the table," the woman answered, a flicker of epiphany staining her tone. "And to get a cup of water from the Simela."

Hesi raised an eyebrow. The river streaming through Berheqt? This quadrant truly was a place of residence. "And did you already get it?" she prodded.

The woman's face crumpled in confusion, the gears in her mind turning. "My cup was stolen," she said. "By another bride."

Pieces clicked in Hesi's head. Of course. There was that bit about her other task, one instructing her to retrieve a plate or something. So, that was the catch. The Mayaware certainly cooked something up.

They didn't count on Hesi figuring it out though. Now, all she must do was to unravel the threads, to lay bare the trap set up for them. "We can win," Hesi blurted, snatching the woman's attention back to her. "Together."

The woman's wary gaze never ebbed. "What's your name?" Hesi continued.

"Rehema," she answered, lowering the scarf wrapped around her head. Luscious waves of dark hair spilled to her back. Against Hesi's straight plaits, it was as though the sea turned dark with ink and never ceased rippling.

Hesi gulped, her throat beginning to itch. It had been a while since she last drank something, and she ran in this heat for hours. "Whose are you?" she further asked.

Rehema's hands crept up to the straps of her basket. "Nephdaphis," she replied. "The Viper of the Sun."

Eh. Hesi didn't know who that was. Festophis was what? The Iron Demon?

Now that she encountered a bride from a different slate, Hesi couldn't resist the urge to ask, "What has the Viper told you about this trial?"

Rehema's gaze flicked to the branch briefly as though she couldn't wait for Hesi to stop talking. They had their respective tasks to complete. "We need to be vigilant and not extend mercy to anyone we meet," she answered, indulging Hesi nonetheless. "That is the only way we can win."

Of course. That advice worked in many situations, and this trial was one of them. Well, the demons wouldn't have their way. Not with Hesi around. "How about we win this?" She extended a splayed hand the same way the elders did when they met other people from neighboring towns. "I am certain you know it already, but we're sent here to stab each other in the back as fiercely as possible. I'm not having it. How about you?"

Conflict danced in Rehema's features. The most fundamental but unwritten code instilled in every human born after the Great Shadow was to never betray one's kind. Never turn against one's kin. It was how they would survive with the Mayaware bearing down upon them. That was what Rehema thought and what Hesi wanted her to think.

"The point of this trial isn't to fulfill our tasks." Hesi perked up again. "It's protecting the sapling on our backs. Loyalty. The tasks were to test us if we're willing to forgo our missions in exchange for ensuring the safety of the demons' future."

When Rehema didn't speak, Hesi continued. "If we find the other brides and tell them about it," she said. "We can all win this trial."

Because the Mayaware never specified that each trial could only have one victor. And that was part of Hesi's plan. If she couldn't get close to the King in plain sight, she would raise the stockades and strike from the shadows.

"What do you say?" Hesi offered her hand again, leaving it hanging between them like a friendly snake.

Rehema bit down on her lip. Then, she stuck her hand out and gripped Hesi's. "Deal."

Minutes later, Hesi bore the date stalk with her hands, tearing through the quadrant in search of the other brides. It was Rehema's idea to split up and meet back in the town center, and Hesi agreed. It would be faster with both of them on this mission.

She found the bride who stole Rehema's cup. It turned out to be Mensa, the woman with red hair. Also Festophis' slate like Hesi was. After explaining their whole predicament, Mensa led them to where two more brides were. That was four. How many brides were there? Hesi should have paid attention at the assembly.

When they found Isueri, she was already with another bride. The black ink painting the bride's skin glinted against the sweat slicking her bare arms. Now that she shed the dresses for a simple off-white band tied around her breasts and a yard of knee-length cloth knotted at the waist, Hesi saw how expansive and elegant the designs were.

"This is Petra." Isueri waved her hand towards a woman with dark ocher hair and rust-colored skin. "She sabotaged my task, but I figured it out."

"I won't have to explain it to you, then." She jerked her chin at the vague direction of the town square. "Let's go. Rehema and the others must be there. We'll discuss who to best get our tasks done without tearing each other down."

Isueri flashed her a grim smile. "I like that."

Then, they tore through the alleys which started becoming familiar. When they reached the date tree, more brides were present. Rehema's luscious curls whipped off her back upon the noise of their footsteps.

"Is everyone in?" Hesi asked, laying a hand over Rehema's shoulder. Her eyes scanned the brides, counting. "Eleven."

"Taskhari." A small voice interrupted. They turned to a woman barely past her moon-cycle, scouring faces and places with her hands tight around the straps of her basket. "I do not see her."

Hesi bobbed her head. "Let's go."

Their feet slapped the ground in erratic successions as a brand new search took place. Hesi gave Rehema a nod before diverging from them at the nearest bend. A glance to the sky. Not much time left.

She ran. A dull ache spread from her side, forcing her to stop and brace her knees. Her chest heaved. When she straightened, a wet haze teased her horizon. A mirage. The temperature rose.

A scream rang into the quadrant, stopping time in its tracks. Her breath hitched as her senses narrowed down the location of the source. She gritted her teeth and dashed forward. A corner flanked with two-story buildings with crumbling walls and broken wooden shutters presented itself, and she couldn't have thrown herself in quicker.

Her gaze landed on a woman—a bride, judging from the elegant braids on her head and the fact she was a human in the heart of Berheqt. The woman wrestled with a dark lump of scales, hands pressed around its throat. A sapling. It was awake.

Hesi stepped forward, a hand creeping towards the hilt of the knife she hid under her wicker.

"Stay back!" The woman, Taskhari, yelled. "It'll get you!"

In that moment of distraction, of turning to where Hesi slowly creeped from, the sapling shrieked and slipped out of Taskhari's grip. Claws extended, it fell on the woman's face in a dark blur. Hesi gaped as the woman flailed and squirmed, legs kicking against the sand as she tried shoving the sapling off.

The skin on her cheek stretched and tore. Bone glinted white against the sun. The screams turned into gurgles of blood slowly filling the back of her throat. Even so, Taskhari shrieked. In pain, but never to call for help. Because as all humans knew, there would be none.

It was every soul for itself.

No one would save her.

Hesi stood there, fingers tightening around the strips of leather wrapped around a blade that could end Taskhari's suffering. But if she killed the sapling, the royals would treat it as an act of treason. They were supposed to protect these demons. To be the prince's bride, they must be able to show they wouldn't strike the wrong hide.

She watched—that was all she could do. Watched as the sapling gripped Taskhari's jaw and pulled. Blood sprayed past the woman's hairline, dousing the ground with warmth rivaling the midday sun. She watched—forced herself to—the demon crouched and gobbled Taskhari's nose, picked on the teeth, and slurped the tongue. It seemed to love the tongue.

A gag rose into her throat, but she tamped it down. She must watch, so she would know what the path she chose entailed. Loyalty. It meant turning against one's kind in favor of the wicked. It meant throwing one's life so that another could flourish.

And Taskhari was the most loyal of them all.

Just as the sapling finished smoothing the cavern in Taskhari's gut, footsteps came alive behind Hesi. Judging from the gasps and the waves of silence washing through them, they saw the same thing she did.

The sun reached its peak.

The trial was won.

Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen247.Pro