Heir of Beasts

Ch. 1.6- Dreams and Memories

I feel the knife plunging into my stomach, twisting and yanking at entrails. Words, words should not be this violent. This is unjust, that his words could cut me like razors, little cuts all over, making me feel like I'm bloody and raw before him-

"I am not a traitor," I say too loudly.

Even I can hear the lie.

"I expected a quiet Dimaraste daughter to follow Kyoro into that tent, but you came in with eyes much too sharp and a tongue to match. I expected you to sit beside her quietly, demurely, but you interjected until she had to put a hand to your knee to silence you. You fidgeted like an animal caught in a trap."

"Stop it," I blurt out, feeling the cold hands of memory pulling at me. The tent smelled of mulling spice and cardamom. The seat beneath me was plush, the wooden armrests worn smooth from the worrying fingers of many thousands of merchants.

It's only one meeting, my lovely girl, my mother whispers in my ear, I know it's a nasty thing, but it's necessary. You know that; you see truth for truth. If we follow blindly where Somitu leads this family will fall to ruin.

"You hated me from the first moment you saw me," he continues. "I half expected you to growl. A caged tiger, a little tiger girl come with her mother to subvert the will of the Dizsa herself."

"We did what we had to do," I rasp, his words working their way into my skull, burning me from the inside, caustic acid poured into my ears, caustic memories wrenched forward- forced to be examined in the bright light of morning-

"A nice excuse," he says, pushing me further. "You came with her that day to negotiate the continuation of that policy of looking the other way. You both came to me behind the Dimaraste's back-

"We couldn't lose the income from the black market! We- Somitu thought we could, thought we had to sever all ties with the Vasayaste before they tainted us, but the treasury was still close to empty even if we were recovering- the drought was over but the aftereffects wore on-"

"So you came behind their back to me," he repeats. "Well, I'll give you credit for leaving. I'll never forget what you said to me before you did, though." He smiles at me, forcing the memory down my throat.

I sat still. I let my mother do the talking, after those first interjections, because my tongue felt stiff in my mouth. Almost swollen, dead and useless meat.

I only half-listened. The particulars my mother offered, Sholu's responses, all were overshadowed by the feeling of complete wrongness crawling about under my skin. I should not be there. I should not be hearing-

"You're right," I heard Sholu say, coming in and out of the conversation while I battled the urge to get up and run and forget I'd ever entered that goddess-damned tent. My mother's hand on my knee felt like a restraint, a plea for stillness, but I wanted to run.

"You're right. Somitu is an idealist of the worst sort, but she's effective. She'll hold the Dimaraste together for a few years yet. But when that delicate little golden bird of hers takes charge it will all go to ruin."

I glared, a warning. Shira was so much more than just a pretty face. So much more than fine bone structure and wide, pooling eyes that seemed to dance in the light. He was pretty, but he was a thousand things besides.

"He's a useless thing, I know well enough," Sholu continued, ignoring my heated gaze. "A pretty, cosseted pet that won't be fit to run a party, much less a count-"