Даниил Зверков – The Last Queen Of Noctyra: Awakening Of Aronella (страница 10)

They circled her.

Aronella stood motionless, looking at them one by one.

Four of them. Young. Angry. Hungry. Their hands shook with the urge to strike, to take, to destroy.

She could feel their fear beneath the swagger. Their weakness beneath the knives. Their mortality—so frail, so effortless.

Within her, something dark and ancient rose.

Hunger. Rage. Power.

Hey, pretty thing, said the one with the knife. Got anything to share?

She smiled.

It was a strange smile. Not human. Far too calm for someone ringed by four armed men. Far too cold.

The leader frowned and glanced at the others.

Whatre you grinning at? He stepped closer, playing the knife through his fingers. Think this is a joke? Hand it over. Or start taking things off.

He reached out and seized her by the shoulder.

She did not even flinch.

Then the world stopped.

One movement—quick, almost invisible. She caught his wrist and squeezed.

Bone snapped like dry twigs.

The knife rang against the stone.

The man never had time to scream. She jerked him forward, and his face smashed into the wall. The blow was so violent that stone cracked and his body slid down, leaving a dark wet smear behind.

Silence.

The three who remained froze, unable to believe what they had seen. The one nearest to her stumbled backward, raising his hands.

You what are you

The second turned and ran. The third bolted after him. Their footsteps thundered across the empty square, fading into the maze of alleys beyond.

Aronella did not pursue them.

She stood over the body and looked down. His neck was broken. His eyes were open, fixed in astonishment. He had never even understood what had happened.

The silence closed around her again.

Far off in the city there were still shouts, drunken songs, the clatter of wheels. But here, in the little square, time seemed to have stopped.

Aronella crouched beside the corpse.

Blood.

Warm. Living. She could smell it—thick, enticing, calling to her. The hunger she had held back all day surged free, flooding her mind in a hot wave.

She bent down.

Blood touched her lips.

And the world exploded.

It was nothing like what she had felt with the stag. Then there had been only fear, warmth, a brief flash of life. This was different.

Images poured into her in a flood that shattered every barrier.

A boy running through filthy streets. Thin. Barefoot. Lip split open. Stealing apples from a vendor and dodging a heavy-handed blow.

A teenager taking up a knife for the first time. Fear mixed with exhilaration. Blood on the blade. Someone elses scream.

A man laughing as he split stolen goods with others like him. Then another man with his throat cut—and she understood: he had done that. Forgotten it. Moved on.

A woman being raped in an alleyway. Her cries. His indifference.

Then herself—through his eyes. A strange pale woman standing on the border between light and shadow. Beautiful. Alien. Easy prey.

And then—

language.

Words tore into her consciousness with the images, embedding themselves in memory, becoming hers.

Bread. Knife. Money. Guard. Tavern. Bloodhunter. Talirion. Street. Fear. Pain. Death.

She saw the city through his eyes—all its paths, its hiding places, its dangerous corners. She knew where one could hide, and where one should never go. She knew whom one might rob, and who would kill first. She knew the smell of cheap wine and the taste of stolen meat.

She knew the loneliness that gnawed worse than hunger.

She knew his name was Raik. That he was twenty-three. That he hated this city and could never leave it.

And that tonight, for the first time in his life, he had truly been afraid—

when he saw her smile.

Aronella opened her eyes.

The world around her sounded different now.

She could hear conversations a hundred paces away—in taverns, alleys, behind closed doors. She understood every word. Every inflection. Every hint.

that bloodhunter, Kael—they say hes coming from the capital

taxes again, soon therell be nothing left to eat

found a girl in the port, torn to pieces

keep your voice down, youll call the guards

The language of humans had become hers.

She looked at Raiks corpse. Color was already leaving his face, turning it waxen and strange.

You were necessary, she said softly. Thank you.

She did not know why she thanked him. For the language, perhaps. For the life he had lived in her place. Or perhaps simply because that was what humans did.

She reached out and closed his eyes.

Then she rose.

The body lay against the wall—a dark stain on dark stone. By morning it would be found. Or not. The city was used to such discoveries.

Aronella turned away.

Coins clinked in her pocket—the ones she had taken from him. Copper and silver. The price of a life.

She took one step, then another. Her feet carried her away from the square, away from death, away from everything that reminded her of what she had been only moments before.