Queen Yavara Ch. 20

"You fucking-" Gorlok began before Zander cut him off.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Gorlok." Zander said coldly, "Your father was the leader of ten-thousand warg riders, and on the precipice of conquering four of the Ten. Then a ranger unit came along and poisoned your kennels. Now you are the leader of three-thousand riders, and the clans you sought to control take pieces of your territory easily. We have one common enemy here, and it is not the men sitting across from you; it is the Highlands. It has always been the Highlands."

"Aye," Vultar chimed in, "It's always been the Highlands, but the Dark Queen refuses to attack them! I cannot bend the knee to a woman who will send my sons to die simply to keep what we already have!"

"On this I will not yield, Zander!" Jertalk yelled, "If the Dark Queen does not bring the war to the Highlands, I will not join it!"

"My scouts tell me Leveria's army is months away from being assembled." Kalkgan said, "If we attack now, we could take a quarter of her kingdom without opposition! I will join the Dark Queen if she chooses to attack, but not if I have to follow a Froktora as weak as Brock."

The rest of the clan leaders murmured in agreement. Yavara needed to attack the Highlands, and I could not be Froktora. Zander looked to me and nodded; there was nothing left to discuss. The arguing clan leaders didn't even notice our exit. We got onto our steeds and rode away from the immense Glacier Lake, the homestead of Gorlok becoming a dot on the endless shoreline. We trotted on the old imperial path that led for the ruins of Alkandra, the hooves beating against worn stone. My scouts had given me the same news Kalkgan had received: Leveria's army was slow to assemble. But it mattered little if the Ten did not unite, for when the army was finally assembled, it would pick off the tribes of the Tundra one by one, and then there would be no defending the Great Forest.

There was only one thing left that I could do. I would heed the advice Ruby had given to me two nights ago, and go to the Maples. How I would do it in time, I did not know. I didn't seem to know anything anymore. Uncertainty was a new constant in my life, a shadow veiling my dearly-held perception of a future I once thought set in stone. The hours of riding went by without a single word spoken between Zander and me. All the while, I heard the name with every beat of my bull's hooves. Adarian, Adarian, Adarian.

LEVERIA

I was absolutely giddy. I had to stop myself from skipping down the hall to Glendian's office, and struggled through my regel shuffle before the eyes of my guards. The old man was his usual bitter self, but I paid him no heed. I ordered up as many vials of succubus extract as I could carry with me through the portal, then I went to my room and stripped naked.

How do I want Elena to see me? I pondered as I walked through my closet. When I'd broken Prestira, I'd selected a warmly-colored dress and conservative makeup. I wanted Prestira to view me with an air of benevolence to contrast the mannerisms of her captors. I didn't need to put on airs for Elena. In a sense, she would know me better than anyone, even Father. For I intended to spend months getting to know Elena Straltaira, though the longer I spent with her, the less of her there would be to know. I would make sure Yavara got her precious ranger back, one little piece at a time.

Ah, this is the one.

It was a tight leather one-piece that covered me from toe to chin. It included leather gloves and obnoxiously tall high-heeled boots. I did my platinum hair into a ponytail, applied black lipstick and dark eyeliner, and adorned my ears with hooped earrings. I posed in front of the mirror, turning to admire the skin-tight contours of leather that held my bust and buttocks high and taut on their perches. It was perfect. This... this was me. Beautiful and terrible, magnificent and merciless, lusting and cruel. I would be Elena's devil, Elena's angel, Elena's torturer and Elena's lover. In the end, she would love me almost as much as she feared me. Fear and love, but not hate. Oh, she would hate me at first, yes, but I would cut the hatred out of her. For when pain became so great, and horror so pure, hatred had very little room to sprout. One does not hate the hurricane, nor the earthquake, nor the flood; though these things might take everything from someone. When Elena's limbs were naught but stumps on her torso, her breasts were but flat scars on her chest, her cunt was one with her rectum, and her cock was a memory, I would cradle her in my arms like a babe, for she would be so light that I could. I would bring her to my breast, gaze into her lidless eyes, pet her scalped head, and blow into the holes where her nose used to be, and I would smile when she did, showing me her toothless gums. Then I would bring her to my breast, my babe of mutilation, a creation of my mind, and I would let her suck the milk I'd made in my incestuous pregnancy. But I would not kill Elena. No, I would leave that to Yavara, when I showed her what I had done to her love.

I took a moment to gaze from the window at the army that was amassing outside Bentius. It was already eighty-thousand strong. I had worked tirelessly to establish a network of false information that could be easily disseminated, even by illiterate beasts. In secret, I had emptied the coffers of every noble house, emptied the vaults of the Bank of Bentius, and with the wealth of the entire nation, I'd emptied the Highlands of every able-bodied fighting man and woman, and funneled them through concealed passages in the hills. And there they stood: an army that could rival that of any kingdom in the world, ready to march on the Tundra in a fortnight. The Great Forest would belong to the Highlands once again, and I couldn't have done it without my little sister. Total war required votes in the Noble Court, votes that would never have come without the existential threat Yavara posed. Once I'd ridded the land of the parasites there, I would solidify my power by dividing the newly gained territories amongst the noble families, giving each a piece too small to hold influence, but too large to demand more. Yes, that was power, and yet, it was hollow.

I turned my attention to the velvet box on the mantle. I opened it, and stared in awe at the blades shining in the noon light. It was a coronation gift sent to me by my chief interrogator. It was the greatest gift anyone had ever given me. I had never before made the cuts myself, but I knew that I could. I would be sloppy at first, but I would have plenty of time to practice. I caressed the silver-engraved handles, and felt a thrill run through me. This was true power.