Blood Queen (Blood Destiny, #6) Read online

  I washed dishes, too, and cleaned the kitchen with help from two young comesuli. Orliff came for me after that. At least they'd let me eat before I had to clean the kitchen, even if it wasn't the best portion of what they served. I was a kitchen drudge, now. I promised to remind myself of that the next time they needed saving. Oh, I didn't blame the comesuli. The High Demons? I knew from dreams that one of the kings before this one had fucked up and not sent his High Demons out to control the Ra'Ak. That decision had almost cost them everything. Of course, dear old Dad had hauled me off to this Godforsaken planet so I could take care of their little problem. And then I'd been left here, like a tool that wasn't needed again. Just dropped where it was used last. That was the story of my life. Conceived purposely, to save the vampire and werewolf races on Earth, kill Xenides and his minions, and finally to save the High Demons. Well done, Lissa. Fuck off, now. You're no longer needed.

  I took my bath when I returned to our suite and did more listening. Mostly what I understood was names. Darvul, Orliff and Noff. At least I had pajamas of a sort, though the cloth wasn't the best and felt rough against my skin. Beggars can't be choosers, my mother always said. I snorted at the memory. I was pissed at her, too. And I certainly was a beggar, now, dependent upon the charity of the comesuli around me, as well as the generosity of the High Demons. Had I been on Earth, I would have told them what they could do with all their generosity. I wasn't on Earth though, and it was unlikely I'd ever get back now.

  * * *

  "Niff is upset," Orliff muttered to Noff while Niff took his bath.

  "Did they not treat him well in the kitchens?" Noff asked.

  "I do not know, but he is holding himself stiffly. I know not whether I should mention this to Darvul," Orliff said. "I do not know how to deal with this."

  "Perhaps it will pass; let us keep watch over this and decide later," Noff suggested. Orliff nodded; Niff was coming out of the bath now, struggling to get loosely fitting pajamas situated on his thin body.

  "Niff, you should eat more; you need to gain weight," Orliff sighed, knowing his words would not be understood. Niff studied him for a moment before walking past to climb into bed.

  * * *

  "Should we hold a memorial for Rorevik, brother?" Gardevik asked. They'd been served a midday meal at the stockade, between handing convicted prisoners to the palace guards for execution.

  "I'm not sure the commons would appreciate it," Jayd muttered. "They suffered under our brother's rule because he was too weak to protect them properly."

  "Perhaps a small service, then?" Garde suggested.

  "A small service. We should ask Glindarok how she feels about this. She should have a part in this decision."

  "I believe she will agree."

  "I hope you are right, brother. I do miss him," Jayd sighed. "And we have a request from Griffin, the retired Saa Thalarr, asking permission to put up a memorial to his daughter."

  "We had no idea what was behind the killing of the Ra'Ak—I thought it was Glindarok's associates in the Saa Thalarr. Now we learn that even they were not capable of what a Vampire Queen could do."

  "Had she lived, the commons would flock to her. We would be forced to let them go, Gardevik. She would take them to Le-Ath Veronis, and we would have to do for ourselves again."

  "Perhaps it is just as well then, brother."

  "You rejoice in her death?"

  "I did not say that."

  "We will have to allow the memorial; I just do not know how the knowledge will affect the commons."

  "Then we should put it off for a while."

  "I will see what I can do. It sounds ungrateful of us, brother, to do it, though." Jayd regarded his brother, who was finishing a cup of wine.

  "The Saa Thalarr are not left with the running of a planet, brother," Gardevik observed.

  "No, but they made sure we still had a planet to run afterward. Or at least the little Queen Vampire did. The Croth and Drith she killed convinced the others to surrender."

  "Lendevik should have done things differently. This could have been avoided." Gardevik snorted and smoke poured from his nostrils.

  "Do not speak ill of Glinda's father in front of her, I beg you," Jayd said. "She still loves him. The little Queen Vampire is past all that. We never knew her and cannot pay our proper respects, I'm afraid."

  "Then perhaps in a year, when these other things are behind us, we will allow them to erect a memorial. The commons should be calmed down by then," Gardevik observed. "There were only fifty High Demon deaths, not counting the rogue Croth and Drith. The common demon deaths are nearing twenty thousand, I hear."

  "Yes, I hear that too," Jayd sighed. "I haven't informed Glindarok; it will upset her greatly if she learns of it. We are even short-staffed at the palace, now; many servants are away, helping families rebuild homes and businesses."

  "Supplies are short as well, and we cannot count on any fruit or vegetable shipments from the Southern Continent; the eruptions of the volcano have destroyed all the crops. I have considered sending a handful of troops down to make assessments on the damage there." Garde watched his brother's face closely.

  "Do you think there is any truth to the rumors that Kifirin did indeed wake?" Jayd had never seen the god; not during his long life, but there were records in Lendevik's old library that chronicled sightings of Kifirin, and they spoke of meetings between him and the Raoni of old. Garde may have seen him—he was older than Jayd, but he never spoke of it.

  "The rumors among the commons coming in from the villages there are full of sightings," Garde replied. "Are you ready to go back to work, brother?"

  "Yes," Jayd rose. "Perhaps we should send troops down with a few commons. They won't be able to skip with the commons, but by the time they arrive using coaches or wagons, the eruptions may have subsided."

  "Good. We'll discuss this over dinner tonight. Glinda can decide who will go; that should make her feel useful." Garde grinned at his brother, who'd described Glinda's tantrum the previous evening.

  "Garde, if she thinks you're patronizing her, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes after those babies are born."

  "Perhaps she'll forget it by then," Garde laughed. Jayd blew out a breath and shook his head at his brother.

  * * *

  I now understood the words for potatoes, carrots, snap beans and sugar. Too bad there wasn't any way to write it all down. I hadn't seen any comesuli in the kitchens with paper or writing utensils. There was no coffee on Kifirin—yeah, the planet was actually named after the asshole. Is that enormous ego or what? I was wishing for coffee, especially in the mornings. I was still adjusting to staying awake during the day and sleeping at night. It was getting better, but my eyes were still glued shut whenever Orliff tried to wake me every morning. Cheedas, chief cook in the palace kitchen, was bringing me all the produce to peel, chop or cut up now, because he liked the way I did it. The word for cutting potatoes into cubes was dorthi. Go figure. Yeah, The Wizard of Oz came to my mind, too. Every time.

  I ate my bowl of stew later, after everyone else was served. I then set about cleaning the kitchen before going back to my little corner of Darvul's suite. He, Noff and Orliff still kept an eye on me, but didn't worry so much when I was working in the kitchen. I guess the High Demons didn't pay anybody anything, either; I hadn't seen any money and wouldn't know what the word for paycheck would be anyway. Two High Demons came in just as I was finishing my evening duties. They started babbling to me right away, and none of their words were the words I knew. I blinked at them; they were both six-four and were brothers; I could tell by the scent.

  I had to shake my head at them, trying to tell them I didn't understand what they were saying. One of them—the older of the two—became angry and smoke curled from his nostrils. I made a cutting off motion with my hands and then pointed to one of my ears and shook my head again.

  * * *

  "He's trying to tell you he doesn't understand," Jayd slapped Garde on the shoulder.
r />   "What is going on?" Cheedas walked in. "Raoni, Prime Minister," he bowed slightly to both High Demons.

  "We can't seem to make him understand that we're hungry," Garde huffed.

  "This one suffered a head injury in the attack and doesn't understand speech now, although if you mimic what you want, he understands that very well," Cheedas replied. "You'll have to forgive him—he is good at what he does, otherwise."

  "If you act like a steer, maybe he'll broil a steak," Jayd informed his brother, chuckling.

  "Just mimic eating," Cheedas suggested. "I'll be interested to see what he cooks as a result."

  * * *

  Thanks to Cheedas, the two High Demons were now making eating motions. I sighed and went to the box that held the cold items. It wasn't a fridge, although it served as one. There were round steaks inside, so I pulled those out and started pounding them with a meat hammer. Those two High Demons, and Cheedas who stayed to watch, were fascinated as I put chicken-fried steak together for them. Leftover baked potatoes were heated and mashed with cream and butter, and then I made gravy to go with all of it, setting two plates of food before the High Demons first. Cheedas accepted a plate of food and a glass of the wine I'd opened for the other two.

  They liked it. All of them did. Cheedas was staring at me after he'd taken his first bite. I recognized one of the High Demons—he was the King. Wouldn't do to piss the King off, I guess. And since the other one was his brother, well, same thing, almost. I was cleaning the kitchen again after the mess I'd made fixing them a late dinner. They ate and talked while I worked. I'd gotten flour on my freshly mopped floor, so I had to mop that spot again while I waited for their dishes.

  * * *

  "He understands names if you tell him and point to yourself," Cheedas informed the two High Demons, handing his empty plate and glass to Niff. "His name is Niff, by the way. At least that's what they're calling him, as he doesn't remember who he is and can't speak."

  "Niff," Jayd said. He recognized the little common as the one who'd interrupted his dinner in the arboretum. Niff looked up as his name was spoken, a question in his eyes. "Jaydevik," Jayd tapped his chest with a finger. Niff nodded his understanding. "Gardevik," Jayd poked his brother on the arm. The little common's eyebrows rose as he stared at Garde.

  "I don't think he likes you," Jayd teased his brother. Niff nodded respectfully to Garde and went back to mopping the floor.

  * * *

  The two High Demons sat in the kitchen, sipping additional glasses of wine while I washed their plates and utensils, putting all of it away. Cheedas had left again, leaving the two High Demons to finish eating. They were discussing something, I could tell. It didn't concern me that much, until Jayd said Niff again. I looked up, thinking he wanted something. Jayd looked at me and went off on some tangent. I had no idea what he wanted, but he kept going, gesturing now and then.

  Chapter 4

  "Since Glinda wants you to go to the Southern Continent, brother, to check the area, you could take little Niff, here, to do your cooking. That way we won't upset Cheedas so much and the kitchen won't suffer as a result," Jayd grinned at his brother. They'd brought their proposition to Glinda earlier, telling her she could make the decision on who led the task force to the Southern Continent. Garde had blown smoke for ticks afterward when she'd named him right off.

  "We'll finish with the questioning and the sentencing first," Garde huffed. "But Niff can go. I like his cooking," he nibbled on a bit of leftover steak. "And he won't be bothering me over every little thing since he can't speak."

  "We only have a hundred Drith and Croth left, brother. You ought to select the guards you wish to take with you now—both High Demon and commons—before you go. If you choose a captain, he can make arrangements for transportation and supplies."

  "Fine," Garde muttered. He hated taking trips that used ground transportation. He preferred the normal method all High Demons used—that of skipping from one place to another. The drawback to skipping was that High Demons could only skip themselves from one place to another. If commons went, horses and wagons would be employed instead.

  "Larevik is a good choice for captain," Jayd grinned.

  "If my brother weren't King, I might thrash him," Garde grumbled, pushing his wineglass toward Niff, who accepted it and took it to wash. Jayd laughed and slapped his brother on the back.

  * * *

  It was quite late when I made my way to bed that night, and I almost fell asleep in the shower. My eyes were closing as I cleaned up and I was afraid to lean against the tiled wall in case I did nod off. Orliff was already asleep and snoring softly when I crawled into bed. He was shaking me awake before the sun came up the following morning, just as he always did.

  My life as a kitchen drudge went in a different direction, though, after I cooked for the King and his brother. Cheedas would stay after the late meals were served and the kitchen cleaned, asking me through words and mime to cook something else. He watched me closely as I made sugar cookies. I hadn't seen anything close to chocolate anywhere and wished for it on more than one occasion. I wanted brownies—had a taste for them, suddenly. They did have oats, so oatmeal cookies came into being and I knew how to make fresh pasta so Cheedas and I tried our hand at lasagna. It turned out very well, even if the noodles were thicker than usual. I resolved to make them thinner the next time. Jaydevik and Gardevik both showed up for the lasagna tasting and Jayd was more than happy with what he got.

  I showed Cheedas the meat grinder at one point, silently asking him, as best I could if we could get another plate with smaller holes so we could make spaghetti. He finally understood when I drew a rough picture in some flour scattered across the prep table. He had a new plate for me in a couple of days and when I made spaghetti for him the first time, he was in raptures.

  Cheeses on the High Demon planet were also very good; the goat cheeses were some of the best, I discovered. We made Alfredo sauce and covered more noodles, sliced half an inch in width. I was getting the High Demons hooked on Italian without really meaning to.

  * * *

  "How do we tell him he has a day off?" Orliff consulted Darvul and Noff. Niff, thinking he was supposed to go to the kitchens, was dressed and ready to walk out the door.

  "I don't know," Noff shrugged. "What were you planning to do today? Do you think we should take him along and let him spend time with us?"

  "I was going to visit my father," Orliff said. "I'll take him with me." Orliff went to grab Niff's hand before he could go out the door.

  * * *

  Orliff was telling me to come; I understood that word now. I didn't know what he was saying after he said come, though. I blew out a breath, let him keep his grip on my hand and followed him out the door and down the long hallway that led to the front entrance.

  We walked through the city that day instead of riding; I was able to see more of it that way. Most of the city was rebuilding—I was glad about that, but much of it was still empty space. The comesuli had been busy—most of the rubble was cleared away already. Some buildings still stood—we passed the occasional open shop and vegetable market, all with goods and wares on display. Small comesuli were running and chasing one another through the streets, laughing while they did so. That cheered me up, although it did make me wonder how many children died when the Ra'Ak attacked.

  Orliff and I walked for an hour before we came to a shop where rugs were sold. It smelled of wool, dye and a brush with Ra'Ak scales. An older comesula came forward and hugged Orliff when we arrived. I knew by scent that he was Orliff's parent, though they looked nothing alike. Orliff explained that I was handicapped and his parent, whose name was Paraf, motioned for me to follow him and found a chair for me inside his tiny living quarters. Orliff and I were served tea and small pieces of dried fruit dipped in sugar. Paraf and Orliff had catching up to do; they talked nonstop for two hours, after which we ate a small meal and then the talking began again. It was late afternoon when they finally ran down—Paraf o
ften left us to help a customer.

  His rugs were beautifully patterned, and made of colorful, hand-dyed wool. I'd fingered one or two of them while we'd stood inside his shop early on. Paraf was three hundred years old; I could tell from his scent. He'd also been making rugs for a very long time; that was obvious. Curiously, I watched Paraf as he bargained with a High Demon for two rugs, eventually accepting six gold pieces for both. At least somebody was getting paid for their labor.

  Orliff and I made our way back to the palace, returning in time to get dinner in the kitchen. I was served a plate of food and it wasn't the scrapings, this time. Dinner was chicken stew, and it made me want to bake biscuits to go with it—to make a chicken pot pie. I held back though, eating my dinner gratefully.

  That was my life for the next six weeks; seven days in the kitchen, followed by a day off. I wanted to go back to the arboretum, but was too afraid I'd run into other High Demons so I didn't risk it. I also wanted to turn to mist at times and sit on one of the palace domes. That would probably scare Orliff and Noff to death; they kept a close eye on me whenever I wasn't working in the kitchen. I didn't want to frighten them; they were doing their best to take care of me, even if I did appear to be a disabled casualty of war.

  I was adding to my vocabulary, too, but I hadn't attempted speech. I wasn’t sure I could pronounce the words. I understood everything better, at least—Cheedas didn't have to mime so much. I understood cut up carrots or stir the soup or any number of other cooking-related sentences. I got a few other words out of kitchen gossip; the comesuli did love to gossip. None of it had to do with somebody's daughter or girlfriend getting pregnant or fooling around with anybody. The comesuli didn't have sex and their children were produced autonomously.

  A pregnant comesula worked in the kitchen and wore a type of sling over his shoulder to hold up his pouch—it was growing on his lower left side. I found that fascinating. I also heard the word Baetrah mentioned and discovered that the pregnant comesula was missing a traditional trip to the volcano because it erupted and the Southern Continent wasn't a safe place to visit at the moment. I didn't know that soon I would be headed in that direction myself.