Gods of Jade and Shadow(47)

“I thought you’d be wise,” he replied.

“I am. And it would be unwise to surrender to you.”

“My brother must have made you an offer.”

“Which you cannot match,” Xtabay said.

“What is the offer?”

Xtabay stood up and shrugged. She circled Hun-Kamé, brushing a hand across his back as she did, the other hand busy touching her strand of pearls, as if she meant to count them. She sighed.

“A place beside his throne. I am to be his consort.”

“He cannot raise you to godhood.”

“You are very misinformed and out of date. The world is changing.”

“You’ve fallen for Vucub-Kamé’s dream? His ridiculous notions of power?”

Xtabay laughed. Her pretty voice had a musical quality to it, but the laughter was not pleasant. Hollow. As polished as the rest of her, as shiny as the metal and Bakelite furniture adorning the room. She pressed her hands together. She wore rings on many fingers; her bracelets clinked. And when she shook her head, there was the flash of expensive earrings. It must be nice, Casiopea thought, to wear such finery every day and have the constant favor of gods.

“You have been quite ridiculous too, Hun-Kamé. Existing so quietly in your kingdom of shadows, happy to think of former glories. You are like a dog eager to eat scraps,” she said languidly, managing to make the insult sound impersonal.

“Everything has its time. The gods do not walk the land for a reason,” he said, his voice subdued. The insult had not stirred him.

“The chu’lel can be harnessed.”

The dress swished as Xtabay walked in front of him. The white satin rippled, and Xtabay stretched out a hand, brushing Hun-Kamé’s face as her dress brushed the cool checkered floor. Knots of power, invisible, tied themselves around the god. Casiopea could not possibly see them, but a shiver went down her spine and the plants around her shivered too, making a low, low sound.

“Ah, Hun-Kamé, do not be upset with me, I couldn’t bear it. You know I have always been fond of you. You are so much more intelligent than your brother, so much stronger and more handsome,” the woman declared.

“You say that only because it is me standing before you, and not him, right this instant,” he told her, but his voice was odd, he slurred his words.

Casiopea noticed that Hun-Kamé had closed his eye and his shoulders drooped. She knew the legends of the Xtabay but had not thought she could affect him. Ordinarily, Casiopea would have been correct in her assessment: Xtabay could have no power over a god. Then again, Hun-Kamé was not exactly a god at this time, his immortal essence mixed with Casiopea’s human self. He was vulnerable.

Casiopea watched him carefully. She did not know about magic, but she did know about bad feelings, and she was certain now that the parrot had indeed been a terrible omen.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, and she wondered whether she should approach them. Last time she had not followed his instructions a ghost had almost snacked on her bones. Did she interrupt them? Would that make things worse?

Behind her there was a soft rustling, but she was too worried trying to listen to the conversation to pay it heed.

“I would much rather sit by your side than his. Wouldn’t that please you? It would not be too difficult to manage,” Xtabay said.

“I…can see your point.”

Each word the woman spoke made Hun-Kamé drowsier. Xtabay moved closer to him, placing her hands on his chest.

The rustling continued. Casiopea looked behind her, annoyed. One of the potted plants had extended long tendrils, reaching toward her. Before Casiopea could flinch, it wrapped itself around her legs. Another tendril whipped her in the face with such ferocity she stumbled back. One quick tug and she fell down. Hun-Kamé had noticed nothing. He was still speaking with Xtabay while Casiopea tried to pull the tendrils off her. They were as tough as ropes, and more slippery.

“I have the precious item you seek. The index finger from your left hand. Let me return it to you, and that portion of your power, but assure me you’ll crown me as your own queen. Assure me with a kiss,” Xtabay was telling Hun-Kamé.

A couple of paces from Casiopea there was a side table, crystal vases crammed with flowers set upon it. She scrambled up and reached for one of the vases while a third tendril wrapped itself around her midsection, squeezing her tight and digging into her flesh. Casiopea smashed the vase against the floor, shards bouncing around her. She picked up one piece of sharp glass and cut the tendril wrapped around her mouth. The plant let out an unpleasant hiss, uncoiling from her.

Xtabay, in turn, let out a gasp and touched her arm, where a scratch had suddenly materialized. She glared at the girl.

“Be care—”

Casiopea’s words were muffled by yet another tendril, which struck her and began knotting itself around her head. Xtabay clearly did not wish for her to speak, or maybe she just wanted to suffocate Casiopea. Either way, this was not good, and she pulled at the tendril, pulled with all her might.

Meanwhile, Xtabay kept speaking to the god. She raised a hand, as if to touch Hun-Kamé’s face, and Casiopea realized there were vicious thorns running along the woman’s arm. She meant to kiss and simultaneously scratch Hun-Kamé with the thorns.

Casiopea tugged at the tendril around her head and the plant shivered, but it would not relent. In fact, Casiopea felt that it was laughing quietly.