Bloodtraitor by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes Page A

know Midnight is fond of splitting hairs until the laws suit them. It’s time for us to do the same.”
    The plan was brilliance, or madness, or some of both, but it had a few major flaws.
    “You expect people to simply turn over their possessions and trust you to take care of them?”
    This time, it was Misha’s turn to grin. “There has already been some resistance. Sadly,” she said, with no hint of sorrow in her tone, “we expect threats. We may need to train more guards in order to keep our people under control.”
    The shapeshifter nations were forbidden from keeping an army, but encouraged to have guards to police their own. Misha was hoping for an excuse to train soldiers.
    “How are you going to deal with the fact that the serpiente get most of their food from Midnight?” I asked. The serpiente, like all the local shapeshifter nations, relied on Midnight for basic provisions.
    “As soon as I take the throne…as Aaron’s mate,” Misha added, as if he were an afterthought, “I plan to declare that the serpiente intend to refuse all future aid from Midnight. The royal house will ration the supplies we have. The Obsidian guild has plenty of experience surviving on limited resources. We’ll manage, until we can break our own fields.”
    “A dozen thieves can live off the land—and their neighbors’ bounty—easily enough,” I argued. “That isn’t going to work for the entire serpiente nation.”
    I looked to Aaron, wondering if he could offer better solutions to the obvious problems in Misha’s plan. The moment I did, I felt Misha’s magic lash out, squeezing the serpiente prince and shoving any independent thoughts he might have aside.
    “Do you
hear
yourself?” Misha challenged me as she smothered her mate’s potential contribution to the discussion. I saw others look toward us, and Misha’s magic twined around them, too. “Midnight is not the only nation with
dirt.
The vampires don’t even eat, so why, in two centuries, are they the only ones who have learned how to plant fields of corn or squash? Why are they the only ones who benefit when the rivers run thick with salmon? When we first came here, they offered us food in exchange for the luxury goods our artisans could provide. They taught us to create what we could sell instead of what we could
eat,
and that has made us dependent on them, but we are a nation of people with passion, innovation, and intelligence. What stops us from changing our ways?”
    “I’m not saying we can’t.” Why was I bothering to argue? The glint in her eye made it clear she didn’t intend to listen to reason. “I’m saying we might need to go slower. It’s already June. We have no cleared fields, and few farmers.” The serpiente grew flax for textiles, and a limited amount of oats and wheat—which was mostly used for hay for the sheep—but it wasn’t nearly sufficient to feed us all.
    Misha closed her eyes and drew a deep, slow breath, then nodded. Instead of feeling relief, I tensed, because I sensed her sudden resolve.
    “Excellent idea,” she said. I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, but I already doubted I would like it. “You can go to Midnight, and to the bloodtraitors’ village. Inspect their farms. Serpiente who go to Midnight often do so for the same reason we came to Obsidian, because they were in trouble with the royal house. You can let them know that, once we have a new king, they can earn pardon in exchange for their expertise.”
    Aaron frowned. “I know Malachi’s magic helps him avoid undue attention, but someone will notice if he starts sneaking around—”
    “Oh, he won’t need to sneak,” Misha interrupted. When she fixed her gaze on mine, I could see her fury. No matter how logical my points were, she couldn’t stand my challenging her. “Malachi goes to Midnight regularly. I’m not sure what work he does there…” She paused, letting damning speculation fill the brief silence. “But they let him stay