Bloodtraitor Read Online Free PDF Page B

father—your
true
father, not the serpent who abandoned your mother and you—who fought in the war and later taught you the words of their Declaration of Independence so you would always know what your parents believed.
    “Aika, you lost your first family to terrible violence. You and Torquil are so courageous to be willing to try again, and I know my actions must seem reckless to you when safety is so crucial, but do you really want your children to be born into a world where their freedom is seen as a
commodity
? Or would you rather they live knowing their parents fought to make this world better for them?
    “We cannot let ourselves be slaves,” she said firmly. “If we do, then we are not serpiente. We certainly are not children of Obsidian. If we do not stand up against Midnight, then we are no better than the bloodtraitors that the other shapeshifter nations call us.”
    Her words were lovely and logical, spoken with passion and intensity, and I wished with all my heart that I could accept them. I wished I could only see her pale green eyes, and not the coil of pain in her soul that was looking for a place to strike. I wished I could rejoice in her bond to her recently declared mate, without seeing the magic she had wrapped like a noose around his throat. Most of all, I wished I could trust her passionate words about Midnight versus the Obsidian guild. But how could I believe anything from a woman who had committed us all to slave-trading without our consent?
    To be a child of Obsidian didn’t just mean refusing to bow to a king. It meant acknowledging that you had no right to rule anyone else either. Misha had violated the second half of that philosophy.
    I swallowed twice and let Misha’s words wash over me, using my own power to keep her magic from snagging in my flesh, and doing my best to shield the others. Only when I was sure I could speak with no judgment or anger did I ask, “What is the plan now?”
    “The plan…” Misha paused, her eyes going distant as she debated whether to trust me. “I purchased a drug from the Azteka that will take down even a cobra. One of Hara’s guards will give it to her, and then bring her to us once she is unconscious. I have arranged to meet Nathaniel at a spot in the woods—” She broke off and shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s habit to keep names and details to myself these days. You know the place—where the old hitching posts are. We’ll meet Nathaniel there in six days, at sundown. We’ve arranged for another conspirator to go to the palace with a grievance, so we can be sure that Hara will be where we need her.”
    I knew her instincts told her not to trust me, but my power mingled with what she wanted to believe, so she gave me as much information as she could to assuage her own anxiety and prove to herself that I was on her side. For now, she was right.
    Torquil and Aika worked together to cook the evening’s meal, and we all took stock of what—and who—we had left. The mood was subdued as we all refused to think or talk about what the future held.
    Farrell’s absence was the most palpable, but he wasn’t the only one we had lost. Four other members of our guild were missing; I hoped some of them had just decided to disappear rather than stand up against Misha’s plans, but I feared they were more likely to be dead. That left ten of us, not including Aaron, who was currently at the palace.
    I was walking the camp’s perimeter when Torquil caught up to me, distressed.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked.
    “Some of us were talking with Misha about having a mourning ceremony for Farrell.” He spoke in a hushed, careful tone. That, combined with the worried glance he cast over his shoulder in the direction of the campsite, made it clear that the debate had been contentious.
    “Misha isn’t ready to mourn,” I said. She and I had not spoken on the subject, but I knew I was right. Mourning meant remembering someone as they had been. It meant