Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(76)

“You have to understand, it was different from how it is now.” Chaiya bowed his head. “There had been two assassination attempts on the Sun Priest’s life, and the Sky Made were already blaming Carrion Crow. The Odohaa had been quiet since your father’s death, but they had been getting louder, more emboldened in their talk of prophecy and vengeance, and Yatliza was allowing it.”

There was a buzzing in Okoa’s ears, as if a million bees lived inside his head.

“We could not survive another Night of Knives.”

“You killed her.” It was the barest whisper, a breath of horror.

Chaiya shook his head. “I did not touch her. But when the Priest of Knives climbed the cliffside and stole into her room, I stood on the other side of the door and did not stop xir.”

Okoa sank to the ground. He wrapped his arms around his head and pressed his forehead to his knees. There had to be a mistake, some strange misunderstanding. This could not be real.

“Can you forgive me, Okoa? I thought I was doing the right thing, fulfilling my duty to Carrion Crow. How could I know, how could any of us know, that the Crow God Reborn would come and change our world?”

A voice like a thousand black wings spoke. “You should have had faith.”

Okoa looked up. Serapio loomed behind Chaiya, who was still on his knees. He lifted a hand, Chaiya’s obsidian knife in his grip.

“No!” Okoa screamed.

Chaiya’s smile was small and resigned as his eyes fluttered shut, and Serapio drew the black blade across his neck. Blood poured from his throat, and he slumped to the aviary floor.

A clatter on the stairs, and suddenly the room was filled with Shields.

“Ituya, no!” Okoa shouted, but the man had seen Chaiya’s body fall and was already charging toward Serapio, knife raised. It was a reckless attack, doomed from its inception.

The Odo Sedoh turned to the side, catching Ituya by the arm and neck as he slashed wildly. He forced the guard to the ground, crushing his wrist until Okoa heard the bones break. Before Okoa could move, the Odo Sedoh had grabbed Ituya by the head and twisted, snapping his neck. The effect was instantaneous, and Ituya fell dead beside Chaiya.

Another dozen Shields had spread out across the room, and Serapio turned to face them. He cut across his forearm, letting the blood rise and his veins blacken, and shadow dripped from his fingers.

He would kill them all, Okoa realized in horror, and he could only stand by and witness it. My way is death, he had said, and Okoa had not understood. He understood now.

He struggled to his feet. He saw Serapio tilt his head at the sound, as if taking note of his position.

“Hold!” he shouted to his Shield. “I am your captain, and I command you to hold!” And to Serapio, “Please. I am not your enemy. The Shield is not your enemy.”

Serapio’s voice was a soft whisper, no longer that sepulchral horror. “I don’t believe you, Okoa Carrion Crow. I think perhaps you lured me here hoping to kill me all along.”

“I didn’t know, I swear to you.”

“What do your promises mean to me, crow son, when they are nothing but lies?”

He could see Serapio was breathing hard, his eyes too wide, his wounds at his jaw and forearm and the old one on his side leaking blood and ichor. He’s hurt and believes himself betrayed.

He thought of how he would calm an injured crow, what words he would whisper, what soothing he could offer.

“Chaiya conspired to assassinate my mother, his matron.” He said it with a steady voice, but his hands shook, and the image of Chaiya on his knees, eyes fluttering closed, played across his vision. He forced himself to breathe. “And Ituya attacked you first. These are explainable deaths. But you cannot hurt the Shield. It will break our trust.”

“Our trust?” Serapio laughed, showing red teeth. “You asked me to be your weapon, and when I am a weapon, you complain that my edge is killing sharp?”

“It was a mistake.” I thought I could control the storm, but Esa was right. We must only survive it.

“Tell me where to find the Sun Priest.”

Okoa glanced at the two bodies between them. “No.”

Serapio looked to him, incredulous. Okoa understood his danger a moment too late, when the obsidian blade was at his own neck, Serapio’s face inches from his own, his breath ragged and hot against his face.

He heard the Shield move. “Hold!” He forced the word through gritted teeth. “He will not hurt me.”

Serapio’s bloodied cheek pressed, viscous, against his own, intimate with the promise of murder. “And why would you believe that?”

“Because the Sky Made, the Odohaa, even Benundah, would turn against you. You would truly be alone, everyone your enemy, your predictions fulfilled.”

The blade pricked his skin, a thin, burning line of pain that made him shudder. Okoa closed his eyes and whispered, “And what use is a god if there is no one alive to worship him?”

Serapio roared and tossed him away. Okoa tumbled to the ground. The Shield rushed forward, the great crows screamed, and Okoa watched as Serapio broke into a flock of crows and scattered.

Hands were on him, helping him to his feet. Fussing over the small wound on his neck. He brushed them off with assurances that he was not seriously injured and went to where his cousin lay.

A lake of red stained the reeds, but Okoa pressed fingers to Chaiya’s wrist anyway, hoping for a miracle. But there were no miracles today. He bowed his head. He had thought he wanted revenge for his mother’s murder, but now that he had gotten it, he found the cut of it too bitter for his tastes.