My heart raced in fear but there was nothing I could do to help. Nothing.
One of the Claws made a clever strike, slashing Alect’s thigh. He fell to his knee with a moan and the second Claw rushed forward.
I forced all my fear and rage into the bee who was watching him, and she buzzed forward. The Claw slashing at Alect drew nearer and nearer as the bee – burning so bright I could barely look at it – rushed toward his eye. And then all I saw was a huge eye. And nothing. I felt heat and pain and then the bee was gone, and I was back in my own body leaning against the wall of a boathouse.
In the dusky twilight, no one had seen me slump here. Or if they had, they’d kept to their own business. In the darkness, someone laughed. I did not feel like laughing. My legs were like jelly as I wobbled back to the shed to retrieve the lantern. All I had to do was light the oil and get out of here and then I could go and help my family.
Knowing that they were out there in danger and in need made me feel like there was an ache between my shoulder blades.
I flew through the door of the shed and snatched up the lantern, fumbling with the striker. It lit at last, filling the room with light. I lifted it up, looking for where the trail of oil was on the floor. It was right here somewhere. There!
I knelt down to light it.
And everything went black.
Chapter Sixteen
I WOKE UP TO A VOICE I’d hoped to never hear again.
“Awake again, wife? It seems that the owl is better than the Osprey when it comes to netting bees.”
I gritted my teeth and opened my eyes. My head was pounding like a drum. I shut them immediately against the flooding pain.
I caught the barest glimpse of Juste Montpetit sitting on an ornate chair, one leg slung over the arm of the chair as he regarded me. He had a delicate hand lifted with a single finger resting against his chin and the fingers of the other hand twirled one of his large dark curls between his fingers. He was watching me with a predatory smile on his full lips.
Beside him Wing Essena stood, stroking her spirit owl nervously. It had diminished slightly. Was that worry in her eyes?
“You betrayed me,” I whispered.
“You didn’t really think you could outrun an owl, did you?” Essena asked, with ice in her tone. “I was watching you from his eyes in the sky. And you didn’t even look up. Besides, what you call betrayal, I call patriotism. I love the Winged Empire and everything it stands for. Without it, we’re nothing but barbarians clawing at the dust. With it, we are great – a nation capable of producing fine pottery, rippling cloth, tinkling music, and magic beyond what you settlers on a distant continent can ever dream of.”
She flicked a finger toward a nearby dark window. The window frame had been carved with feathers and the drapes were woven in a pattern of red cranes on a white field. Beside the window, someone had placed a large, gilded vase, also patterned in cranes.
“Do you think any of that was made on this hard land of yours? You’re nothing but what we brought here. You’ll be nothing once we leave.”
Juste made an irritated growling sound in his throat.
“We’re done here,” he said to her, snapping his fingers. “Leave.”
“But Le Majest,” she began, her face paling to grey.
His head swiveled like he was the owl – shock and fury on his face in equal portions.
“You dare to rise above your station and question me?” I heard the threat in his tone – and I heard it echoed in the feather in my breast as if it could sense things about him that I could not.
“But I brought you valuable information! I know the leadership of the rebels. I know how to find them. I found your wife and brought her here. I’ve been loyal to you. I –”
The spirit-snake shot out of his hand and tangled around her throat. She gagged.
“Where were you when I needed your blood to hold back the Forbidding?” he asked icily. “Where were you when my insides were exposed to the outside?” He motioned to the honeycomb in his belly. “Hiding. Preserving your own skin. Building your own empire. Do you think I don’t realize that you’ve been playing both sides as you waited to find an opportunity for power in either of them? The information you have been sending Wing Xectare is nothing but useless dribbles. Enough to keep your hand in the game, but not enough to truly show your loyalty to me. You were waiting for a bargaining chip. And you found one. Returning my wife to me has bought you a second chance. Nothing more. Accept that it was all you were able to achieve.”
She gasped as the snake slackened its hold. “Yes, Le Majest.”
He smiled slightly. “Don’t you think I might like to spend the night alone with my new wife?”
“Yes, Le Majest.” She sounded like she’d used up all her breath.
“Then run along while you still have legs.”
He retracted the snake and she scurried from the room as fast as her legs could carry her.
I took the opportunity to examine the bone-white bars encircling me. There was enough room for me to lie down fully stretched out and not a hair more. There was enough room to stand – maybe even put another one of me sitting on my shoulders. As cages went, it was generous in size.
But it was still a cage. And I saw no door in it.
“I had it made just for you, wife. Consider it a wedding present. I even had them craft bees to decorate it.”
My eyes snapped to him and I carefully pulled myself to my feet. I felt the back of my head. It was sticky with blood. Essena must have hit me from behind. The thought of that made my bees buzz with fury, filling me with the warmth of their rage.
“There,” Juste said, smiling, his lips parting slightly as if he were savoring the moment. “That’s exactly the lovely fury I’ve come to expect from my wife.”
“I’m not your wife,” I said, poison dripping from my words, but the feather in my chest had dulled to a happy warmth, glowing and contented rather than furious. I looked around the cage for any kind of weapon or way of escape. The cage had no lock. No door. They must have welded the bars in place around me. I felt ill at the thought.
My fingers drifted to the cuff around my wrist, reaching inside. The feather there was stone cold.
The cage was positioned in what must be Juste’s makeshift throne room. It was large with more than one balcony wide open showing the smoldering embers of Glorious Ingvar through the windows.
“I see you like what I’ve done with the place,” he said languidly. “So do I. Smoke has always suited me. It curls and loops just like a snake.”
He sighed, looking into the distance with his huge blue eyes. The finger on his chin traveled up to his lips and he bit it before speaking again.
“You have to stop running from me, wife. You’re meant to be by my side.”
“I told you that I’m not –”
He lunged before I could finish the sentence. He was on his feet, his arms snaking through the bars and grabbing a handful of my hair. He yanked me hard so that I crashed against the bars and with his other hand he opened my shirt and revealed the feather on my collarbone.
“You can’t deny it when my marker is in you. You are mine, Aella of House Shrike. I agreed to keep you close and I have. I have honored you and you try to deny it.”