Page 49 of Humans Don't Have Horns
Nikanor is a handsome man. He’s tall and broad, yet his face has delicate features. His short red hair is tidy. He wears a formal white Aldonian military uniform decorated with golden ornaments. On his back is the famous Aldonian arch, and on his left hip lies a box of arrows. The perfect prince.
All that time in Aldon, he avoided any contact with me, including on the very few public occasions I saw him. But now he smiles at me. A royal smile. Seeing him like this, I can’t help but remember him as a child, loving and carefree.
Then I recoil at the memory of the day he was taken from us. The cries, the blood. The helplessness. He was only six when he was taken to the palace. What did he have to do to survive? I know I should hold no grudge for his cold shoulder all these years, yet knowing isn’t enough. I needed him. Everyone outside of Aldon knewof the Nimatek, so he must have known as well. I was so lonely. A shadow of myself.
“Sister.” He nods, his hand behind his back. My baby brother, at the age of eighteen, is a head taller than me.
Siean then lunges at us and hugs us, crushing us together. Nikanor chuckles. And I can’t help but laugh. She has a huge smile on her face, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her smile since we were kids. Her eyes water, and she brushes the tears away, mumbling to herself, “Fuck, I need a drink.” Her smile is all gone. She crashes into a seat at the dining table at the center of the tent as if the spontaneous display of emotion robbed her of all her energy.
Nikanor and I sit by her sides. The tent is full of opulent Renyan carpets and furniture. A servant pours sweetened strawberry wine and brings us traditional Aldonian cookies coated with cinnamon and sugar. They burst with the flavors and smells of a home that is not a home.
“We drank an obscene amount of wine as children.” Siean smiles impishly. “Do you remember?”
“It’s not our fault every Renyan prayer requires a sip of wine,” I laugh in response.
Nikanor doesn’t approve of our mirth. “It’s an adverse custom to give wine to children,” he grunts.
“It’s only a sip. It can hardly harm.” Siean frowns at his rebuke of Renyan customs.
“Nikanor, tell us everything of you, and miss nothing.” I try changing the subject and lightening the mood.
He smiles at me warmly and holds my hand. “I’ve been missing my sisters.” Then he holds Siean’s hand also, and she, in reaction, stops frowning and smiles at him. “Soon I will be king, and there will be no need to miss one another any longer.”
We talk for hours. The conversation is like a delicate but complex dance, constantly avoiding sad memories and disagreements. It is a joyful and exhausting experience. How different it is in the company of Mongans. It is never tiresome. It is painful at times because there is so much pain there. And still, the camp feels more like family thansitting here with my siblings. In the warm tent with the delicious smells and pleasant smiles, I realize the family I had is forever lost to me.
“I need to get back before dark,” I tell them in a soft voice. “Shall we address the reason for our gathering?” I ask Nikanor. “Do you have the king’s support for being here?”
“Since Siean confiscated the Cursed Ones’ extract, his years and sickness came with a vengeance. He is mostly unconscious and never leaves his bed. I am the acting king, and any day now, I will be crowned,” he says. That is very good news for us. My father can no longer act as an obstacle to our task.
“Does that mean you’ll lead Aldon’s army with us against the demichads?”
“Us?” He raises an eyebrow.
“We must all fight. All Puresouls and Mongans,” I explain.
“Siean told me of the prophecy.” He scoffs, “My warlords think it’s a joke. My priests say it’s blasphemy.”
Whatever his men tell him, he must know he can’t defeat the demichads alone. All of Amada knows now that the Aldonians lied for a century when they claimed they had defeated the demichads. No one will submit to their lead on this. Not even Siean.
He does know it, as his following words show. “But I will let you lead, sister. In the end, you are an Aldonian princess, and the demichads are the greatest foe we have.” Then his face turns harsh. “But I will not let the Cursed Ones make my men sacrilegious. I will not risk the purity of their souls, for life is temporary, but the soul is eternal.”
I snap at that, forgetting any diplomatic inhibition, “They are not contaminated. They are human, just like us.”
He looks perplexed and glances at Siean as if she can explain my words. But she keeps her face blank. “Humans don’t have horns, Lian,” he scolds me.
“Humans don’t have white eyes or hair either, yet here I am,” I retort. I notice that Siean is looking at me with commiseration.
“You compare yourself to them?” he roars. “Now that isblasphemy, and I will pretend it was not said by you.” His voice is icy as a glacier. I wonder again why Amada chose me but gave me so little guidance. Without my brother on our side, humanity will vanish. Twenty-two years as an Aldonian princess taught me little of value. But I do know how to deal with Aldonian men.
He’s adamant, so I swallow my anger and nod at him in acquiescence. “You are generous to me, brother,” I say. He nods in approval of my change of tone. And that approval makes me wince inside, but I’m not sure what else to do.
I speak of the impending battle, and he is silent for a while. Then he says, “I will bring to the battle one brigade.”
“One?” I struggle to hide my disappointment. This is the only army in all of Aldon.
“The demichads are already attacking in different places in Aldon. The soldiers are needed,” he says in a flat voice.
When I leave the tent, Siean approaches me. “You did right not to insist with him. His position in Aldon is delicate. I doubt he would have been able to raise more than one brigade, since Dorem is the head of the army.” I’m still surprised that our half brother received such a position. This is not a good sign for Nikanor, to say the least.
