The Mayaware's reign must end.
In a world of demonic beings with a hunger for human flesh and thirst for blood, Hesi Renen knows it well. When her siblings are taken to the harvesting farms, she must do everything she can to get them out, even if it...
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If a celebration was this muted, Hesi would have attended a Mayaware rave after a successful raid. She sat cross-legged on the edge of her cot, eyeing the basket of scarlet citrus near Uzare's foot. It was part of the feast Festophis prepared for his slate when all six went through.
The brides lounged in the largest room of the bridal palace. Even though enough rooms for everyone existed, the Mayaware insisted on keeping the humans in one place. Maybe it was for safety reasons or something as stupid as thinking of them as sheep to rear. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her thoughts.
"How did you know our tasks disrupted each other's?" Semret, the youngest of them all, shifted from her cot and faced Rehema, who sat with one leg up. On the older woman's hand sat an opened but uneaten fruit.
Hesi's stomach growled. She hasn't eaten since midday, and the ceremony lasted into the afternoon. After that, they shoved her into this room. Hesi eavesdropped on the brides' conversations since a woman gathered enough courage to speak, and she found out Semret was the other one in Iserphis' slate. She accompanied Taskhari, so with the latter gone, the pressure for Semret to win it for the Mayaware general was stronger.
Petra, the woman with dark ocher hair, and Barteset, a woman who looked old enough to be Semret's mother, were in Khetaphis' slate. As the head of the Iron Pillar, the largest trading post in Iren-Washep, his slate received burden as well. Rehema entered the trials as Nephdaphis' sole bet, as was Khono, who competed under Heruphis' flag.
Festophis must have thought it was the lottery and entered six—Mensa, Tagara, Uzare, Isueri, Otraqte, and, of course, Hesi.
"It's not me," Rehema answered with a sigh. She jerked her head in Hesi's direction. "She's the one who pointed it out."
"And then what?" Asrate demanded. The braids on either side of her head swung with her movement. The sheared scalp behind her ears distracted Hesi for a full minute. "You simply followed her?"
Hesi glanced at the woman. Despite the straightened spine and the squared shoulders, she could tell Asrate faked it. Out of everyone who saw what happened to Taskhari, Asrate took it the hardest. The woman's hands haven't stopped shaking, and Hesi lost count of how many times Asrate rubbed her palms against her gossamer skirt.
"It made sense," Uzare interjected. Hesi frowned. Why was she defending Hesi? "These demons weren't concerned with our lives. They just want to find the prince's wife, for reasons I never could fathom."
Hesi crawled to the woman's side, using it as an excuse to swipe a fruit from the top of the basket. They would rot if no one ate them. "Whatever it is, I'd still want to offer you the same proposition I did to Rehema," she said. Her nails dug into the fruit's crown, the sickly sweet juice staining her nail beds red. She pulled. The rind's crunch rang against the force. "Their plan was to pit us against each other, so we're going to turn it on their heads. We're going to work together."
