Skye looked up and for the first time truly saw the faces of his captors. He thought he recognized one from the castle, but he was uncertain; at the time, he had considered all guards beneath his notice.
“Thank you,” Skye said quietly. “I think I can make it now.”
The guard nodded and attempted a smile. “Unfortunately, it will not do you much good in the long run. You do understand that, right?”
“I’d expect nothing less,” Skye replied. “I’m well aware of what your queen is like. But I have some information she needs to know.”
“You have pluck. I will give you that.”
Though he might have imagined it, Skye thought that the man’s expression held a measure of respect and perhaps even a grudging admiration. Given what he had learned from the Skychild people over the past few days, Skye wondered if the common Groundbreather held just as little antipathy toward his people. If someone could only bridge the gap between them, then the world would undoubtedly be a better place. Food could be made more readily available to the Skychildren, and the Groundbreathers would benefit from trading with the Skychildren and would no longer need to be concerned about protecting themselves from raids.
Belatedly, Skye realized that he and Tierra had been in a unique position to close that chasm between their peoples. But that was all ashes in the wind now; Tierra was dead at the hand of a vindictive Skychild, and Skye was soon to be dead at the hands of her mother.
Shaking off his morose thoughts, Skye concentrated more on his surroundings, noting that they were entering the clearing around the Groundbreather castle. They had not walked for long, and he realized that he must have misjudged his position and traveled closer to the castle than he had planned. The entrance to the edifice loomed in front of them, and Skye’s heart sank. Though Sequoia needed to be informed of what had happened to her daughter, he was under no illusion as to what her reaction would be. He knew this might be his last day. It was possible she would not even wait for a formal execution.
Skye was hustled into the castle to the gawks of the many onlookers who stopped what they were doing to watch an injured Skychild being half-carried to the throne room. When those massive doors loomed in front of him, Skye said a brief prayer to Celesta for the strength to make it through the ordeal which awaited him.
Upon entering the throne room, Skye had his first view of the queen as she sat on her throne glaring down at him. The king was beside her, and though Skye did not think he had ever seen the man with anything less than a congenial smile on his face, his eyes now glittered, hard as diamonds. The hateful Wisteria was everything Skye expected her to be, with a slight leer playing about her lips. The white garm rose to its feet with a whine as it saw him, and it started to move forward, but a reprimand from Sequoia made it pause, though it still clearly wished to go to him.
Forced to his knees in front of the two thrones, Skye let out a short gasp at the roughness of his handling before suppressing any further display of pain.
“Where is my daughter, Skychild?” the queen demanded.
“I am sorry to be the bearer of this news, Your Majesty,” Skye said, his throat feeling tight. “But . . . Tierra is dead.”
The cry of an anguished mother met his ears, and Skye glanced up at the queen. Tears were streaming down her face, yet her expression was murderous. The king appeared to be in no better shape, as he bowed his head in sorrow, yet Wisteria’s reaction was once more incongruous. She regarded Skye with contempt and a hint of something that seemed suspiciously close to satisfaction. Had Wisteria truly hated her sister that much that she could not even grieve at the news of Tierra’s death?
A blur of motion followed, and Skye saw nothing more than a rapidly descending hand before his head snapped back and his cheek exploded in pain.
“How dare you steal my daughter away and kill her!” the queen screamed at him. “Your death will be agonizing. I can promise you that, Skychild.”
She spun away, furiously wiping the moisture from her eyes, and then she turned on the guards. “You did not see my daughter’s body where you found this . . . this . . . air demon?”
“No, Your Majesty,” one of the Iron Swords said. “But there was another Skychild there, dead.”
This seemed to bring the queen up short, and she turned to look down at Skye. “Where is Tierra’s body?”
“I don’t know,” Skye rasped, trying to regain his focus. He wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor instead of forcing himself to remain upright on his knees. “We parted from each other in the forest. She was going to walk back to the castle.”
Sequoia regarded him for a long moment. “Then how do you know she is dead?”
“The other Skychild said that he killed her. I made him pay for what he did.”
The queen’s expression appeared to indicate she was somewhat impressed by the way he had claimed vengeance. “And where did you leave her?”
“It was somewhere to the east of the castle, though I’m not sure exactly where.”
“And how do I know you are telling the truth?”
Tilting his head back slowly, Skye looked her in the eye. He was tired and weak—so very weak—and he wanted nothing more than for this ordeal to end. But he knew he owed it to Tierra to ensure that her body was found and dealt with in the customs of her people.
He began to reply, but his words were interrupted when the doors to the throne room were opened. The queen looked up, her face registering shock, and a voice spoke that Skye had thought he would never hear again.
“Skye?”
The throne room erupted in pandemonium, and Skye twisted his body slightly to see Tierra rushing toward him. She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her, before she withdrew from him slightly and asked, “What happened to you, Skye?”
“Tierra, get away from that Skychild!” Sequoia snapped, grasping her daughter’s shoulders and pulling her back. Then, in a gentler voice, she asked, “Are you well, my daughter? And what are you wearing?”
Skye’s mind was reeling. He watched as the princess was reunited with her family, though Wisteria kept her distance, frowning in displeasure. Stratus must have lied about having killed Tierra in hopes of catching Skye off-guard, though he obviously had not expected to throw Skye into such a fury. In the end, it had backfired. Skye was grateful for that at least.
He craned his neck up, watching Tierra to make sure she truly was unharmed. She appeared to be fine, if a little overwhelmed, and her parents seemed thrilled now that they knew she was alive. His feelings only paralleled theirs.
“Mother,” Tierra said when the commotion began to subside, “you need to let Skye go. There is more going on here than you know.”
The queen scowled. “I would like to know what you were thinking, initiating physical contact with a Skychild like that. Do you not recall how he was beaten for taking liberties with you?”
“He is not just any Skychild, Mother,” Tierra protested. “He is the prince of their people. He will be king one day, and—”
“That makes no difference whatsoever,” the queen snarled in response. “In fact, it is even more of a reason to do away with him once and for all!”
Tierra gasped. “Surely you cannot mean that! We have to help him, Mother. A madman is in control of his kingdom, and Skye needs to retake it. We could all suffer if we do not stand with him!”
Shaking her head, Sequoia guided her daughter to a nearby chair. Then she told the guards standing nearby, “Take the Skychild away and lock him up. We will deal with him later.”
The guards pulled Skye to his feet and began to march him from the throne room, though they were much gentler than they had been previously. Their expressions seemed sympathetic, but Skye could not spare them more than a moment’s thought.
Tierra was out there. Wonderful, beautiful Tierra was not dead. She was very much alive. His inner fire to live had returned with her arrival. He could onl
y hope she would be able to talk some sense into her mother. Yet he feared that nothing she said would succeed in changing the queen’s mind about him.
* * *
At Queen Sequoia’s insistence, the throne room was emptied of everyone save Tierra, her parents, and her sister. Even Stone, who had appeared strangely upset at Skye’s departure, was removed from the room. Tierra rather wished that Wisteria had not been included in the family circle this time around, but she knew better than to protest. Instead, she sat and waited for her mother to speak, knowing the upcoming interrogation would not be pleasant. She did not have to wait long.
“Where have you been?” Queen Sequoia asked. “What happened?”
That was a set of loaded questions if Tierra had ever heard any. The truth, of course, was that Skye had escaped and taken her hostage, forcing her to remove the slave collar around his neck. But if she were to say such a thing, then Sequoia would look even less kindly upon Skye, which was the last thing Tierra wanted. Unfortunately, however, she had no idea what Skye had told her mother, and she did not want to heap further troubles on his head by making him look like a liar. So she decided to skirt around the truth.
“When Skye escaped, he took me and Gusty—umm, I mean, Wisteria’s slave—up to the sky realm. It is very beautiful there, Mother.” Upon seeing Queen Sequoia’s grim look, Tierra decided that particular subject was not going to endear the Skychildren to her family. “I learned that Skye is a prince of his people. He is more than deserving of our respect—”
“You say he took you up to the sky,” her mother interrupted. “Are you trying to tell me that you requested to go with him to that wretched place?” Her sharp eyes regarded Tierra knowingly.
But unless asked directly, Tierra had no intention of casting Skye in a negative light, regardless of what the truth actually was. She had no idea how Skye had ended up at the Groundbreather castle in such terrible condition when he had been healthy and hopeful only hours earlier, but it did not matter. She trusted that there was a reason for what had happened. She would not fault Skye. And she still hoped that he could be returned to his people.
“I have always wanted to see the sky realm, Mother,” Tierra said, a plaintive note in her voice. “The people there are not that much different from us, yet they make beautiful blankets and paintings and sculptures—”
“You can extoll the virtues of Skychildren all day long,” Sequoia said, “but my opinion of them shall not change a wit.”
“The Skychildren are air-headed beasts,” Wisteria said in disgust. “I still cannot believe you let one of them touch you, prince or not.”
“Be quiet, Wisteria,” Sequoia said curtly. “You are present as part of this family, but I do not want to hear another word from you.”
The glare Wisteria gave Tierra was positively venomous, but she fell silent.
In spite of her sister’s set-down, Tierra felt as if she had a knot in her stomach, and when her father spoke, she jumped in surprise.
“Did he hurt you?” King Tillman asked, his eyes searching her face.
Tierra shook her head resolutely, determined to show no sign of hesitation. She was not about to mention the cut she had received during her swordfight with Skye. “You have nothing to fear from him. Skye is my friend!”
“A Skychild for a friend?” Wisteria scoffed.
“Wisteria,” Queen Sequoia said warningly.
“I am sorry, Mother, but it is utterly ridiculous! How could any Groundbreather ever have a desire to associate with one of those daydreaming cloud-gatherers?”
“Enough, Wisteria,” Sequoia said. “As for you, Tierra, you must see this for what it truly is. A Skychild was attempting to infiltrate my kingdom, for Terrain only knows what purpose.”
“There was no infiltration involved!” Tierra protested. “His father, the king, was taken in by the Skychildren’s villainous Seneschal, and he banished Skye after falsely accusing him of a crime!”
“Then why, pray tell, was he welcomed back with open arms? Exiles do not typically take people on scenic tours of their homelands. Or were you lying when you made that claim?”
Tierra nearly groaned. Her mother was too perceptive . . . and Tierra needed to learn how to keep her mouth shut! “He did something that pleased his father, who accepted him back. But all that is now of no consequence—his father was killed by the Seneschal, and Skye was framed for the murder. Now, his kingdom is under the hands of that monster, and Skye must return and reclaim it. If he does not, then our people could be pulled into this conflict. The Skychildren’s Seneschal certainly has no love for Groundbreathers, and I do not doubt that tensions will escalate between us if he is not deposed.”
“I have no fear of the Skychildren,” Sequoia said. “They are like little blue jays flocking in the sky, good at nothing but flying around and stealing what does not belong to them. I will not return their prince to them. What a message that would send! No. Rather than do that, I shall publicly execute him. His death will serve as an example of why they should keep their ugly beaks out of Groundbreather business.”
“No, Mother!” Tierra cried in horror. She stood from her chair on shaky legs and then fell to her knees in front of her mother. Clutching the bottom of the queen’s dress, she begged, “Please. You must not do this!”
“I can, and I will,” Sequoia said, staring down at her daughter unyieldingly. She turned her head and looked at her husband. “The king agrees with me. Is that not right, dear?”
King Tillman seemed troubled as he gazed down upon Tierra. “I suppose he did take our daughter hostage.”
“Please, Father!” Tierra pleaded, turning to him. “Do not let Mother do this. Skye did nothing wrong! You have captured him again. Is that not punishment enough for him, if indeed he did deserve to be punished? This is much bigger than Mother’s desire to punish a single Skychild. He protected me—”
“It must be done,” Sequoia said. Yet Tierra thought there might have been a tenderness in her expression not unlike pity. “We cannot have the Skychildren doing whatever they want in the ground realm, Tierra. The balance between us must be maintained.”
Tierra slowly rose to her feet, clenching the skirt of her Skychild dress. Suddenly, she wished she had never left the sky realm.
“If you do this,” she said quietly, “I will never forgive you.”
“The duty of a ruler is not to seek forgiveness or permission,” Sequoia said. It looked as if there were a flash of regret in her eyes. “It is to do what is right.”
“What is right is protecting our people, not gaining vengeance in our short-sighted anger,” Tierra said. “If this is what is right for a Groundbreather, then I am ashamed I ever walked this earth.” And then she turned her back upon her family and moved to exit the throne room.
“Tierra,” Sequoia called.
Tierra turned and looked at her mother, her face passive.
“The execution will happen in three days’ time. In the meantime, the Skychild will be healed and made comfortable. I recommend you take the opportunity to make your peace with what is happening. Holding on will only bring you sorrow.
“Now, return to your room and remove that scandalous outfit. It is appalling to see a Groundbreather princess clothed in such filth.”
Tierra’s only victory was that she waited until she had left the throne room to start crying.
When Celesta did not appear in a jealous rage to prevent his descendants from dancing, Terrain laughed, imagining the great goddess atop her clouds, cowering at the might of her son.
Terrain grew bold. In his conceit and anger, he decided to create great beasts to destroy the sky realm where Celesta’s descendants lived.
Mighty were the efforts of Terrain as he sought a way to reach the skies and massacre the hated Skychildren. Yet in this, Terrain was thwarted, for Celesta had not passed on all her knowledge. Though he sought the secret for many generations of his followers, the dark-eyed Terrain w
as unable to discover the means by which he could give his creations wings, so they failed in their purpose.
In Terrain’s despair and hatred, he cursed the firmament, howling his defiance and hatred to the skies, but Celesta only looked down on him with pity. The child she loved had fallen, without hope of redemption.
—The Book of Celesta
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Desperation
The following days of waiting were torture for Skye, but it was because he was not being told anything about his situation rather than because of any physical pain. In fact, he was taken away from his cell to see the healers soon after his arrival, and they healed all of his wounds. The restoration of his body was small comfort given his awareness that something bad was about to happen. The fact that the princess had not been murdered by the rogue Skychild guard did not seem to have affected his status as a prisoner, nor did the fact that Skye had exacted vengeance on the miscreant.
Nothing was said directly to him. In fact, though he had become friendly to a certain extent with some of his jailors, he noticed many a pitying look accompanied by a shaken head. The guards refused to answer any of his questions, even when he simply wanted to verify what was to happen to him. The wait was excruciating, but even more painful was the fact that he could not see Tierra to verify for himself that she truly had not been harmed by Stratus. If he could talk to her briefly even once, just to assure himself she was well, he believed he could face anything. But even that peace of mind was denied to him. At least, it was until the second day was drawing to a close.
The first indication that something was about to change happened when the Iron Swords on duty disappeared. He had never seen the post deserted during the time he had spent in the cell, and he wondered what it meant. Had Hawkins decided to attack the Groundbreather castle? Had something happened to the king and queen? His mind ran wild with possibilities.
On Wings of Air (Earth and Sky Book 1) Page 31