Queen of the Sylphs (24 page)

It would be harder to stop her this time. She had to be careful for the time being, but once she was queen, every battle sylph in the Valley would protect her, and every sylph would obey. She’d have to kill a few more people: Heyou, to see if Solie really needed him. And, she would have murdered Leon already if she didn’t know it would have the sylphs even more upset. Still, he’d be the first one to die after she ascended. Once he and a few others were gone, there wouldn’t be anyone else to concern herself with. Not unless she wanted to.

Sala finished sewing a button on her blouse and bit off the end of the thread. There would be others to do this sort of thing for her once she was queen. She eyed the button critically. It was a bit crooked but good enough. For now. She set the garment aside and went to find something to eat.

Chapter Seventeen

High atop the tower that marked the center of town, Ril sat on a ledge below the tallest pinnacle, his arms encircling his drawn-up knees. Claw sat to one side of him, Wat to the other. Dillon floated in cloud form before them all, regarding them through ball lightning eyes.

Ril didn’t want to talk to any of them, had actually struggled to make his way up here alone. The others had just shown up. Still, Leon and Lizzy couldn’t reach him here, and Betha wouldn’t eye him warily for going near her children.

Gingerly, Claw reached out and put a trembling hand on his shoulder. “I know how you feel,” he mumbled.

Ril shot an angry look at the other battler, but there was such misery in Claw’s eyes that he was silenced. If anyone could know his pain, he realized, it was Claw. Well, Mace too, but Mace hadn’t come out of his slavery broken.

His anger faded. How could Claw even speak to him? He’d been Rachel’s master, and Mace had found the little bottle of poison used to kill her in Justin’s cottage this morning. Ril didn’t know whether to be happy that he couldn’t remember lacing her food with it. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. He’d killed women before, and apparently he’d done it again.

But this one hadn’t been threatening him or Lizzy. She’d been nothing but kind to all of them.

“I’m so sorry,” Ril said. “I don’t know what to say.”

Claw looked down, swallowing. His emotions felt unstable, just as they always had, and layered with a tremendous sadness that hadn’t been banished even with the arrival of his new master.

“It’s not your fault,” the sylph whispered. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay,” Ril whispered in return. He changed focus, straight ahead, and saw Dillon’s sparking eyes in the shadow of his body. That was no better, given how he’d come close to killing Moreena, too. If Blue hadn’t been close by, Dillon would be as miserable as Claw.

It’s not your fault, stupid,
Dillon told him as he sagged.

Ril glared at him in response.

Up and over the top of the steeple, another cloud appeared and dropped down beside Dillon. Ril’s eyes rolled. So much for getting away.

Is he still moping?
Heyou asked Dillon.

Yeah.

Ril grimaced and dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, Heyou, about Galway . . .”

The lightning inside Heyou increased in speed.
Oh. Um, it’s not your fault. I know this. I understand it. I don’t blame you at all.

Really?
Dillon said.
You told me you hated him.

Yeah, but then Solie explained to me how it wasn’t his fault and he had no control because Justin was his master.

Really? And that worked?

Well, not really, but then she ordered me to stand on my head all night.
The young battler turned and faced Ril.
I miss Galway, I really do. I loved that guy a lot. He was the first one to get me to figure out that all men aren’t evil. But you didn’t kill him, Justin did. He just used you to do it.

Alongside Ril, Claw had his hands clasped in his lap and was shaking terribly, whimpering almost silently under his breath. On Ril’s other side, Wat stared in confusion. “Why did Justin do it? Why did he kill people’s masters?”

They were all quiet for a moment, none of them really sure. It certainly didn’t make much sense to Ril. Justin had wanted Lizzy to be his wife, but she wasn’t interested. Justin hated Ril for being with her, but then why hadn’t he gone after Ril directly? Why had he hurt innocent bystanders before giving Ril the order to drink poisonous energy?

Heyou finally answered.
Mace was talking to Solie about the diary they found. Justin hated battle sylphs and he wanted us all to suffer, so he went after our masters. He got a sick charge out of ordering Ril to help. Plus, that kept him safe, the bastard.

Then why did he try to hurt Ril?

Heyou seemed a bit less sure.
Well, he still hated him, didn’t he? He wanted him to suffer most of all—but he was hardly going to kill Lizzy to do it. He wanted Ril to die so that he could finally woo her.

“I would never have hurt Lizzy,” Ril whispered. “No matter what he ordered, I wouldn’t have.”

Wat frowned. “Oh.”

He was dressed differently from the rest of them, but didn’t seem affected by it. He wasn’t trusted with anything important anymore, but he was still part of the hive. Claw was the miserable one; Ril didn’t know what to say to him. Claw had always been damaged, and Ril felt a little too vulnerable himself at the moment to try. He simply clapped a hand on the other battler’s shoulder.

“At least it’s over,” he said.

The other battlers agreed. But, Claw just buried his face in his hands, his heart still full of grief.

“Ril!”

Everyone looked down. Five stories below, Lizzy stood at the base of the building, her hands on her hips. She stared up at them, one foot tapping on the ground.

Ril stared down at her, not sure what to say. He loved the girl desperately, but what was she thinking? He knew and he didn’t, and he didn’t know what to do. He’d been avoiding Leon for the same reason.

At the sight of her, he felt a strong desire to go and hold her. He also wanted to stay where he was and sort through his emotions.

I think she wants you,
Heyou remarked.

And she’s not going away,
Dillon added.

“So, go talk to her!” Wat decided cheerfully. Putting a hand on Ril’s back, he pushed. Hard.

Ril pitched off the ledge. Lizzy’s shriek echoed through his mind, along with his own loud yelp. Desperate, he changed shape, his form shifting liquidly, his clothes tumbling around him as he took on a body he was intimately familiar with but that was too small to hold his clothes.

Agony shot through him, damaged nerve endings igniting as the pattern of his form changed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt Lizzy’s terror and Leon’s more distant alarm, and then his wings spread. Shrieking, Ril soared above the hard ground in the form of a red-feathered hawk. It was the shape he’d worn from the day he first came through the gate until Solie gave him his freedom.

Lizzy ducked as he flew over her head. She turned, holding her hair back from the wind of his passage as he banked and swooped around, wings beating hard as he threw his feet forward. When Lizzy held up her arm, he landed on it, careful not to hurt her with his sharp claws.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed. She pulled him close, his feathered breast pressed against her as she wrapped her arm around him and kissed the top of his beak, right between his eyes. Then she looked up at the four battlers on the ledge, all of them looking down.

“Dummy!” she shouted. “You could have hurt him!”

The four battlers, two in cloud form and two in human, stared back. Then Dillon formed a tentacle of solid black smoke and smacked Wat.

Lizzy bent down and scooped up Ril’s clothes and boots, balancing him carefully on her arm as she did. Wings folded, Ril watched. He was stuck like this for a while unless he wanted to embarrass her by shifting and standing naked in front of half the town. There were light crowds out that morning.

Turning, she started across the square, carrying him on her arm. “You’re being very stupid,” she said as she walked. “I mean, really. You
know
you have to obey orders. You did every dumb thing my dad ever told you when I was growing up. Did you blame yourself for any of that? You haven’t even blamed
him.
”

Ril just blinked at her.

Across the square was a small building behind a stable that served as an auxiliary entrance to the hive. As if he’d heard his name, Leon appeared, looking right toward them. His expression was worried.

Of course, Ril realized. He’d felt the pain of the change.

Lizzy saw her father, and she waved him away. Leon raised his eyebrows but didn’t follow.

“Justin was an asshole,” Lizzy said, her mouth becoming a tight line. “I wish I’d never met him. I never loved him, but I really hate him now. I’m glad he’s dead. He’s the one who killed all those people, not you. Got it? I don’t want you blaming yourself.”

Ril cooed in response.

She peered at him, stopping for a moment and shuffling the clothing she held until she could stroke his head with her hand. “That’s not an order, Ril. Daddy and I both agree we won’t give you orders. That’s what I hate Justin for most. Nobody should do that to anyone else. Ever. Not when they have no choice but to obey.”

She carried him home. Ril let her, watching her contentedly out of one eye. He loved this girl, had loved her from the moment she was born, was tied to her with some strange bond that he didn’t entirely understand. But he knew he loved her, and he didn’t want to live life without her being his master.

He’d known intellectually that Lizzy didn’t blame him for what happened, but emotionally he hadn’t wanted to face her. He wasn’t sure what he’d say to her father, either. The man had put a knife to Mace’s throat for him! That was taking his life in his hands.

Ril cooed at Lizzy again and, as she turned down their street and went past her family’s home to their cottage, he chucked his head against her shoulder. Carrying him inside, she closed the door. Ril hopped off her arm, changing back to human form with another flash of pain. By the time he recovered, she was standing before him, her lips succulent and soft.

She reached for him. Ril met her halfway, his arms tightening around her body and bunching up her dress until he managed to get it off. They ended up entwined on the bed, moving passionately against each other, Ril kissing her deeply.

His hands and hips moved, lost in the moment—and in her. The danger was over, Justin was dead, and she was safe. And she was his. Ril finally let himself relax. He put the last few months out of his mind, just as battle sylphs all across the Valley were doing. Everything was good again. The hive was safe.

Leon stood in the sunlight outside the steep stairwell leading back down into the hive, leaning against the outer wall with his arms crossed. He’d felt Ril’s pain clearly—very clearly. It had shocked him out of his office with the sudden fear that Mace decided to destroy Ril after all, and he’d nearly run Claw’s poor master over while racing for the stairs. Ril had simply changed shape, though, for whatever reason.

He frowned, thinking about that. He’d felt his sylph’s pain very clearly, and now he was noting a strange sort of block from his battler, which meant Ril and his daughter were making love. It was a considerate thing that Ril didn’t want to broadcast such intimacies, and that was something Leon had certainly never complained about before, but it wasn’t perfect. He could still feel his battler. He always could.

Sala came up the stairs, eyeing him curiously as she passed. Leon barely noticed. He could feel Ril now; he didn’t want to, but could. He’d definitely felt when Ril changed to a hawk and back.

“Why didn’t I feel him change when he killed Galway?” he muttered aloud.

Turning, he headed back to his office. Sala stood behind him, fingering her shawl and watching him go.

The itch was getting worse, drilling along the pattern to her queen and weakening it, driving her mad with the need to make it stop.

We have to go,
her companion said for the thousandth time.

The nameless sylph didn’t want to go. She wanted to go home, back to her hive and her hive mates; only, she felt heavy and bloated, her insides twisting around themselves, changing her.

I don’t want to leave,
she said.

The exile pressed against her, and though he was getting to be big for a battle sylph, he was much smaller than she, too small to stop the itching. Reduced food supply or not, she’d grown since she left the hive.

He pressed harder against her, nuzzling, and it felt good, though it also felt strange.
We can’t stay here. Let me take you somewhere else,
he begged.

And then what? she wondered.

Down several rows from them, a group of earth sylphs were harvesting crops, ignoring her and not seeing him, shielded as he was by her bulk. A small battler was with them, doing the actual work of cutting the plants. It was good practice for him in using his energy. The nameless sylph dully watched them, her belly pressed against the cool soil below.

A space opened almost directly above. The nameless sylph stared, not understanding for a moment what she was seeing as the earth sylphs squealed in terror and ran, stumbling on their many legs across the field. The young battler nearly tumbled over himself, turning on it and hissing.

I’ve seen those before,
her companion said.

So had she. They opened around the hive sometimes, never for long, but they caused whispers and discussions over what they might be. Battle sylph blasts did nothing against them, the circles just absorbing the energy, and the vortexes did nothing themselves, though sometimes sylphs vanished through them. The unspoken rule was to ignore them, but sylphs sometimes were curious. They went through and never returned.

The hive battler approached the colorless circle, hissing and lashing out with his energy. The circle, which hovered several queen-lengths above the ground, flashed whenever his power connected, but otherwise it did nothing. Both the nameless sylph and her exile watched the youngster, confounded, hissing and spitting and lunging at the thing. He didn’t vanish through it, and finally he turned to flee back toward the hive, pausing only to gather up the crops he’d cut.