A War Of Traitors( ARTK, Book 2)

Chapter 52

Anor 5th, 3329 A.G

As Tiffan and Vanora made their way through the hallways of House Amalone's third and fourth floor, Milon paced across his chambers. This night would seal the alliance, and once that was done there'd be no going back. This was what he'd agreed to- what they'd both agreed to, but now it was happening and all he could think of was Amira. He wanted to call for her, look into her eyes even so he could think of her while it was happening a little easier- but Tiffan would likely be there soon.

  Instead, he thought of the things they'd done that week.

  "Are you alright, My lady?" Vanora asked, seeing how pale Tiffan was. "You can take poppy seed and valerian root if you'd like. It will not interfere with the ritual-"

  "No." Tiffan shook her head. "I've had.... far too much of both in my life. I can no longer stand the way they make me feel. It's just.... I have never lain with someone out of duty or just to make a child. I was very young when Gervaise and I married.... and I've never been with anyone but him. Milon is...the exact age one of my still-birthed babes would be now."

  "I can see... why that would bother you." Vanora shrugged. "But you need an heir. By the laws of this territory and both of yours, he is old enough to make his own decisions- and so neither of you are doing anything wrong. Perhaps these laws will change eventually.... but this will not happen in the next few dozen moments, and you will be with child by the end of the night. That alone is worth-"

  "Is it? He's barely a man. He deserves to have- is that her?" Tiffan whispered as they passed a servant girl in the hallways.

  "No, my lady." Vanora said. "The girl he asked to bring- Amira, is about a year older than him. She's pretty enough, but nothing extraordinary. I've asked around, and they've all said she likes to paint when she has the coin- does not enjoy the continent's hot peppers and would kill someone to get her hands on fresh oranges."

"Does she love Milon?" Tiffan asked. "Enough to truly be okay with leaving her family?"

"It seems so, my lady. She did agree to-"

"Call me 'my lady' one more time and I will send you to the gods you're so fond of. Gods I've had the same conversation with Albree a hundred- never mind." Tiffan sighed. "This is not important right now. If she loves him....she will make a fine paramour. I will.... make sure she is always respected and taken care of."

Vanora only nodded then. They'd reached his chambers, and soon would have to do what Tiffan had been walking slowly to avoid.

She knocked, letting herself in a moment later. Milon turned away from his window and towards them. "Mi'lady-"

"Tiffan." She corrected. "We will be stuck with each other until someone dies. Might as well disregard the titles."

Milon opened his mouth, but no words came out for over ten moments. "I am.... sorry for my aunt's behavior. She's had.... Quite a few glasses of wine today."

"Who can blame her?" Tiffan almost laughed, then directed her gaze towards Vanora. "How does this work?"

Without warning, Vanora grabbed Tiffan's hand and sliced it with her thumbnail. "There are other ways for this to be done. This.... will be the least uncomfortable for both of you."

Vanora took another vial out of her dress pocket, pinching Tiffan's cut to collect the blood. When she reached out to Milon, he hesitated- though he complied eventually.

Once she had his blood too, she swirled them into one.

"What are you going to do with that-" Tiffan began to ask.

"I will do nothing with it." She handed the vial to Milon, gesturing downwards. "He will...... for lack of a wording that sounds less gross- rub it on himself."

Tiffan turned away.

The act was rather quick. After Milon had removed his breeches and coated himself in the blood, Vanora's part was simple. She chanted words in an ancient language neither could understand- then stopped for only a moment and gestured for them to go ahead.

Milon kept his eyes closed the entire time, and Tiffan put herself somewhere else. Neither enjoyed it- but they got through it, and then it was over. Vanora left. Tiffan laid on her back.

"It cannot be that easy." She shook her head. "I was taught that.... with dark arts there's always some sacrifice to be made when you want something in return. Why would the gods kill over twenty of my children and then suddenly decide to allow one now-"
  "Perhaps.... Blood magick is not a dark art. Perhaps they sent Vanora to you after noticing your struggle, or perhaps they had no involvement at all. For all the visions she claims to have, I've never seen the gods myself. I may start to believe in them if a child of yours is carried and birthed healthily." Milon said. "Good night.... Mi'lady."

  He rolled over, facing one of his walls. For someone so young, he was tolerable enough- Tiffan thought. They would never be friends or talk to each other outside of official matters, but it could work. To destroy Nara Ashhand, he was a person who's presence she could tolerate.

  The ten thousand soldiers were only the beginning. Tiffan would give it some time, but would make sure she died the most agonizing death possible. Even that was better than she deserved- as there would be an eventual release. No, she needed to throw her in a hole somewhere- feed her just enough to keep her alive but starving, until she was extremely old, and then torture her to death. She would refuse to have her body burned, thus keeping her out of the Lodah and away from the few decent people in her life. Instead, she'd break her body down into hundreds of pieces and have them scattered across the world to prevent a night skeleton from rising.Then and only then would she feel the pain Tiffan had.

  "Are you alright?" Milon asked, having turned back around and seen the look on her face.

  "Just fine, mi'lord."

  Esabell's death would not go unanswered.