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4. Bedfellows

The steaming water churned as Knuxahuatl squirmed out from under Queen Rouge of Galderia and clambered out of the wooden bat. In his haste, he failed to account for his wet feet on the stone floor. He landed on his backside with a grunt.

"Are you quite done?" asked Rouge, peering over the side of the tub.

The echidna slowly looked over his shoulder, meeting the bat's weary gaze.

"King?" he said, voice heavy with incredulity, "…of Arkadia?"

Rouge sighed, resting her chin upon folded arms. "Did you have someone else in mind?"

Knuxahuatl frowned. "Tikal is—"

"Is barely more than a child, is she not? Assuming she's even still alive."

Knuxahuatl winced at the queen's words. He turned his head away, as if doing so would dull the pain of the scenario they evoked. It didn't, of course. The plausibility of the scenario only sharpened that pain. Princess Tikal of Arkadia, the only child and heir of King Pachacamac, might very well be as dead as her father.

The roving merchant who had brought news of the coup to Dalriada couldn't speak to the fate of the wider royal household. He merely knew Pachacamac was dead, Iximche had taken the throne, and the treaty that had brought Knuxahuatl to the Galderian court in the first place was now void.

He'd come here as a trade envoy, entrusted by Pachacamac to see what (if anything) Queen Rouge had to offer in exchange for a consignment of the Arkadian emeralds she so coveted. Despite this connection to the late king, he didn't fear for his safety back in Laputa. Certain other factors had kept him from jumping on a horse and returning home these many moons.

"Sorry," murmured Rouge, laying wet hands on the echidna's shoulders, "That was…inelegantly put."

Knuxahuatl sighed, uneasy about being pitied for what might be hypothetical grief.

"It…doesn't really matter, in any case," he said, placing a hand over one of hers, "Much as I hate to admit it."

"It doesn't?" asked the bat, gently rubbing his shoulders.

The echidna shook his head. "If no one tried to stop Iximche at the time, the princess's claim is as good as forgotten. We can only deal with who's on the throne."

"If he's willing to make a deal, that is."

Knuxahuatl grimaced, recalling what Rouge had told him to tell Iximche. Honor the deal she'd struck with Pachacamac or Dalriada's warriors stood ready to find a King of Arkadia who will, she'd said. It all sounded so…straightforward. Too straightforward.

"My queen," he said, looking over his shoulder, "About your…ultimatum."

The squatting bat tilted her head. "Too abrasive, do you think?"

The echidna blinked in surprise, then nodded. "Not that I wouldn't be honored to—"

Rouge pressed an index finger to his mouth. She stood up, pulled Knuxahuatl to his feet, pulled him close, and clapped her hands on his wet rump.

"If you think my terms could use a little…finessing, then let's discuss them."

"You…would do that?"

"For you? Yes."

"W-why?"

"Because despite what I suspect you suspect my intentions were on that special night, you do in fact mean more to me than some pretty green rocks," she cooed, squeezing his buttocks, "First, though, let's finish our bath. It'd be a pity to waste it."

жЖж

Princess Blaze of Agnia choked back a yowl of pain as she caught her finger on the knife's blade. Putting the bleeding fingertip in his mouth, she glanced warily over her shoulder. To her relief, Honey still lay sound asleep in the bed, tangled up in that itchy blanket.

"Thank Iblis," she murmured.

She was huddled naked on the floor at the foot of the bed. Her tunic was bundled up in her lap, to catch the shavings from the small block of wood she was working with her knife. It was colder this way, but also the best way to ensure Honey didn't find out what she'd been doing come morning.

The small block of wood was an Iblisian amulet, or would be. It currently bore an incomplete carving of a flame. Blaze held it closer to the candle, surveying the shallow grooves she'd cut so far. She smiled faintly. It was shaping up better than expected.

It would need to be blessed by a pyromancer to grant its wearer the full weight of Iblis's protection. However, as a former novice herself, Blaze was confident the incantations she knew ought to be sufficient to lend the charm some potency.

"What in Typha's name are you doing?"

Blaze jolted in fright, fumbling the knife. Honey caught it deftly by its blade. Blaze made a grab for the handle, but the queen's bodyguard was too quick.

"Give it back," whined the princess.

"Why?" asked Honey, craning her neck to see over Blaze's shoulder, "Seriously, princess? Come back to bed. You're going to need all the sleep you can get—"

"Don't talk like way," Blaze cut in, "You sound like my nurse."

"Then act like you don't need one. The queen finally gives you something important to do and there you are doing carpentry—"

"It's not carpentry!"

"It is as far as everyone else around here's concerned," said Honey flatly, "Now come on."

Blaze curled her lip. Running a thumb over her unfinished carving, she clutched the amulet in a tight fist, lest the queen's bodyguard try to confiscate it. Shoulders hunched, she reluctantly stood up and climbed into bed, lying down with her back to Honey.

She soon felt the dull stab of a cat's claws in her back. They slowly raked up and down her spine, from the nape of her neck to the base of her tail. Blaze began to writhe involuntarily, eventually emitting a purr.

"See, isn't that better?" cooed Honey, "Who's a happy Hellcat?"

Just then, Blaze rolled over.

"Don't call me that!" she hissed, sinking her claws into the flaxen-furred feline's left arm.

She'd warned her about it multiple times. She couldn't stop Queen Rouge's other warriors saying it, but even they generally had the manners not to say it within earshot of her. Why couldn't the only other Agnian in Dalriada get the message? She hadn't even been there six years ago.

Blaze had been thirteen, the province of Zama had been in revolt, and her uncle King Magnus had just summoned her from Tophet to take command of her dead brother Infernus's army. Unwilling to negotiate, the rebels who'd killed Infernus were holed up in a fortified village. A village built of wood. Wood that was bone-dry after a long, unseasonably hot summer.

In such circumstances, what grieving little sister wouldn't have marshaled Iblis's fire to her will?

жЖж

A final tremulous whimper leaked through Amaranth's teeth as she clung to Shadow. She'd lost count of how many times it'd now. She could scarcely remember a night like this since that first night in Tesiphon. The night their lives changed.

Above her, Shadow's ragged breathing gradually eased.

"I love you," he sighed, inclining his head to touch noses with his wife.

He went to move, but the legs round his waist held him in place.

"Not yet," whispered Amaranth.

She lifted her to kiss him. Amid the liplock, she felt Shadow's chest reverberate with a bass chuckle. She drew her head back, eyelids narrowed.

"What's funny?" she whispered.

"The last time you were like this…the camp near Pharlain."

"What's your point?"

Shadow cocked a brow moist with sweat. "I'm not going into battle, Amie."

Amaranth curled her lip. He wasn't, true enough, but she had no idea how long her and the others would be gone for. That wasn't normal for them. One advantage of being among Queen Rouge's best warriors was that when the army marched, so did they. It was Silver they said goodbye to, not each other.

Just then, she heard a muffled gasp. Her eyes darted to the bedchamber's curtain.

"What that Lupe?"

"Leave them be," whispered Shadow.

"But the children—"

"I may have told Silver to slip out with Susi," he breathed, rolling his waist.

His wife moaned, raking his back with her fingernails. Why hadn't he said something sooner?