“What about the supplies and food we were promised?”
“They say that hunger is the greatest motivator of all. Use it to your advantage. We want the assault against Wysteria resumed immediately!”
“The island is covered with spores! If we attack, the rest of our people will be infected. There is no way my soldiers will go down there. Even if I ordered them to, they would refuse!”
The Council room swirled away, and Admiral Roapes found himself again standing by himself before the crystal array.
With a scornful roar, Admiral Roapes slammed his fist down, bursting the boils on his skin.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ryin crested the hill and looked out on one of the open fields of Goldenrain, a smallish forest town north of the capital. After spending so much time living in the mile-high-trees of this island, being on the flat ground again was somewhat disorienting. Nallorn trees rocked slowly with the wind. A lot of outsiders would have had trouble getting used to living in something that moved so much, but to Ryin it felt like the way an airship rocked, so he got his “tree legs” as he called them, sooner than most people. Now, being on the ground again, the lack of motion beneath him was vexing.
Hundreds of men were in the field, harvesting the rows of dark-green, quill-like plants and carrying basketfulls over to the awaiting carts at the edge of the field. Ryin had seen fields worked before, but never like this. The men were in such a rush to finish as fast as they could that it looked positively unnatural to his eyes.
At the edge of the field he found who he was looking for. Queen Forsythia stood straight and tall, holding her staff.
The Royal Guards knew Ryin by now, yet their hands were on their weapons as he approached, studying him for any sign of aggression or treachery.
Ryin knew he was supposed to ask for permission to speak. Alder had lectured him on it so many times, he could almost recite the rules from memory. But, try as he might, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It just felt wrong. This was Athel, after all. The girl who taught him how to flick snails across a dinnertable; the girl who couldn’t so much as eat a sandwich without getting crumbs and mustard all over her uniform.
“Oh, I feel like I ate an anvil,” Ryin complained as he walked up alongside her. “I’m still not used to living in a palace.”
As soon as the last of the men cleared the field, Queen Forsythia raised her staff and the field came alive, growing row upon row of fresh new plants until the field was brimming. As soon as her staff lowered, the men again rushed out into the field, harvesting as fast as they could.
“Whacha growing there?” Ryin asked, picking at his teeth.
“It’s the quillwort we need to cure the DeathCap spores,” Queen Forsythia explained. Her expression was calm and refined. “Already hundreds of my people have fallen ill.”
“Wait, you mean those spores affect us as well?” Ryin gasped, covering his mouth.
“That won’t do you any good, you have almost certainly breathed some in by now,” the Queen advised coldly.
Ryin looked at her oddly and lowered his hands. “You were willing to poison all of us?”
Queen Forsythia turned to face him. It surprised Ryin how truly regal she was. Just being in her presence made him feel out of place, even a little uncomfortable.
“The forest was willing to make the sacrifice, and I commend them for it,” Queen Forsythia answered. “They are stronger than they realize. Do not worry, I have already set aside some of the first crop for you and the crew of the Dreadnaught.”
“Thanks...I guess,” Ryin said, turning to watch the men in the field.
“This doesn’t seem to really be something I imagine a Queen to do, growing herbs like this I mean.”
“All of our best Treesingers are needed on the front. And since my guards prefer me to stay out of harms’ way...”
“You nearly gave us a heart attack the other day, my Queen,” one of the guards mentioned.
“...it seemed like the most efficient use of my time while I sit at court.”
Ryin looked around, confused. “Sit at court, eh? Is this court...invisible or something?” Ryin swatted out his hand to see if he struck anything unseen.
Queen Forsythia tapped the top of her staff gracefully. “I am talking to them now.”
“Ah, right,” Ryin nodded.
For the next few minutes, Ryin stood there feeling awkward, while they quietly watched the men harvest the field. It wasn’t long before the silence really started to get on his nerves.
“Oh, I got a good story for you,” Ryin blurted out.
Queen Forsythia nodded politely, indicating that she was listening.
“Okay, so last night Hanner and I went out to eat at that super fancy place in the upper branches, that Nallia Omoni place...”
“Nai'i li'a Omon'i.”
“Right, yeah, sure. So like, Hanner and I are looking around and we're like, hey, we've stolen fancy stuff like this before, but we've never actually seen anyone use them, like the right way, you know?”
Ryin pulled a handful of silverware out of his pocket. “Like, I thought this was just a regular fork, right? Turns out this one is just for cake. Cake, and nothing else! And this one here is for oysters, can you believe it?”
“I gave you a fortune in gemstones, Mr. Colenat. You don’t have to steal silverware.”
“I didn’t steal it. I asked for it and they let me have it. Somehow they knew that I saved your butt back on Percival. Can you believe that? How would they know about that? Anyway, oh, and this one is for lobster. I mean look at it, it doesn’t even really look like a fork. This one is for strawberries. Oh, thanks for paying for the dinner, by the way...”
“It was my pleasure.”
“So anyway, we're looking at the menu, and we can’t pronounce any of it, then I remembered what you told me, to always order the breadsticks and fruit basket. So, I get this awesome basket where they bring out the plants on this little silver cart and grow the fruit fresh right there in front of me. They even asked me what ripeness I prefer. I mean, where else can you get that? So anyway, Hanner gets this nasty piece of goo, turns out it was a stomach of something filled with rice. Only the stuff starts moving and we realize that it isn’t rice at all.”
The Queen nodded. “Live wasp larvae, sometimes we call it insect caviar. Traditional Hel'i’ Aska'o, an acquired taste to be sure.”
“You should have seen his face turn green when he took the first bite. I tell ya, the big guy acts all tough but even he lost it when the larvae stared wiggling around in his throat. He’s been locked in the bathroom ever since.” Ryin leaned back and laughed heartily, his hands on the small of his back. His laughter slowly died down when he realized he was laughing alone.
“I guess it wasn’t that funny,” Ryin apologized.
“It was most diverting,” The Queen appraised.
Ryin chewed on his tongue and looked at her oddly. “But, you didn’t laugh.”
“Try to understand,” Queen Athel explained, her voice rich and nuanced. “It is not that I did not find your story humorous. It is that while I was listening to your story, I was also consoling Balsam Aspen who is caring for a particularly ill daughter, strengthening Hawthorn Honeylocust, who is having difficulty making the adjustment of caring for her newborn, overseeing hospice plans for the injured with Lady Cadagi Lotebush, and working with Lady Mara Greenbrier to reorganize our remaining farmlands to accommodate the impending population increase. I cannot simply laugh out loud, no matter how amused I may be. It would disturb the other conversations.”
Ryin placed his hands in his pockets and raised his eyebrows. “Oh.”
Queen Athel turned and gave a slight smile. “But it was very funny. Thank you for telling it to me.”
“Yeah...sure thing,” Ryin said as he apishly excused himself. Embarrassed and uncomfortable, he walked away as quickly as he could, regretting having come here in the first place.
Queen Athel noti
ced him leaving and reached out her hand to call to him. For a moment she froze, arm outstretched, mouth open. Then she closed her lips and slowly lowered her hand. As Ryin grew smaller and smaller in the distance, Athel leaned against her staff sadly.
“My Queen, the field needs your attention,” her guard pointed out.
“I know.”
* * *
“Just don’t even look at the gate, okay? Pretend it’s not there and just shoot straight, okay?” Setsuna instructed over the din of cannonfire.
The Treesingers shrugged and prepared the next volley of poisonous mushrooms. Their tall trees bowed over, ready to release.
Setsuna looked through her spyglass at the distant Navy airships. “Okay, GO!”
With a snap of her fingers, a tear appeared in front of the trees and they snapped with their unbelievable strength, flinging the mushrooms into the tear. The mushrooms sailed out from the other end of the gate, slamming into the side of the shiny ironclad on the horizon.
“Yassa!” Setsuna cheered, kicking her feet like a little kid. “That’s the last of them, and good thing, too. I don’t like to admit this, but they've retreated back so far I’m at the very edge of my range.” Setsuna blew a kiss to some of the men nearby, who stared at her in confusion.
It had been two days since the invaders had attempted any kind of attack. For the moment, the fighting had completely stalled out. All around, the defenders seemed willing to let down their guard and breathe again.
Privet walked up to Setsuna, looking very stylish, in a black, crushed leather shirt, open in the front to show off his muscular chest, tight leather pants, bandana, boot covers and wrist cuffs.
“Did you bring me flowers?” Setsuna demanded.
Rolling his eyes, Privet held out a bouquet of flowers to her.
“Yay, time for my date!”
Privet wasn’t prepared to be full-on tackled. She wrapped her arms around his neck and knocked him over.
Rather than hitting the ground, he found himself falling through a gate with her. Reality rolled up around him like a scroll then unfurled itself again. Now hundreds of feet in the air, he fell for a moment with her hanging around his neck before falling through another gate, then another, each time ending up higher and higher in the air, until finally reaching the height of the forest canopy.
With a plop he landed hard on the living wood while Setsuna gently came down next to him, balancing on the tip of one pointed boot.
“Holy Seas, warn me before you do something like that,” Privet complained as he rose to his feet.
“Adversarial perception is a basic principal of swordfighting,” she teased with a wink.
The Nallorn tree they were on split into five great branches, like a cupped hand, leaving a flat plaza on the palm where some shops and stores were located. Houses hung from nearby branches, connected to the plaza by bridges and ladders. Other houses sat on platforms extended out from the trunk like great rings. In some places they curved like a spiral staircase, allowing occupants to ascend and descend to other levels. Still other houses existed within the wood itself, only the occasional window or door giving evidence of their existence. Some of the houses were fitted with wooden slides allowing their young children to slide down into communal play areas.
Rather that appearing haphazard, these platforms, bridges, houses, slides, and platforms all followed the natural shapes and form of the trees. This neighborhood felt as natural as the leaves around it, creating a serene sense of belonging as the wind gently blew through it. What was amazing was that it was all accomplished without a single nail, a single cut into the wood, or a single length of rope. Everything was constructed by teasing the living wood and branches into the desired shapes.
Looking into the faces of the people moving about the plaza, there was a sadness for everything that had been lost, and yet that sadness was mixed with endurance and a kind of joy in what remained.
As Privet and Setsuna looked at their surroundings, they found it hard to remember the outside world. This place seemed to exist outside of time, an endless cycle of seasons and families that neither acknowledged nor required the outside world. They instinctively felt a desire to protect this place, to shield it from the breaking of the world and the ravages of time.
Of course, Privet and Setsuna also stood out like a pair of bright yellow frogs.
Wysterians were normally extremely modest in their dress, preferring autumn colors as a rule. Browns, deep reds, dusty oranges, and yellows. Combined with their natural hair colors, which ranged from red browns to dark blonde, a group of Wysterians standing together looked like a forest unto themselves.
Setsuna, on the other hand, was wearing shiny, black knee-high boots and black thigh-high stockings with an absurdly short, black miniskirt and a matching black jacket and corset. Wysterians had pointed ears, but they were of relatively normal size. Setsuna’s ears were long and pointed, sticking out a good six inches from either side of her head. That, combined with her bright green, oversized pigtails, marked her clearly as a foreigner that could be spotted from miles away.
Privet, even though he looked Wysterian, appeared decidedly foreign by the straight and tall way he carried himself.
As they walked around the playgrounds, Setsuna talked incessantly, telling stories, making observations, but Privet didn’t hear any of it. His heart felt heavier than it ever had. If was as if his most deep-seated fears had come true. Despite everything that had been said, the minute they returned to Wystertia, Athel had changed. She had treated him like a vassal. Privet felt deeply betrayed; it made him sick to his stomach just to think about it. He regretted every decision that had led him back here to this blasted place. This “Queendom” prison.
A stern voice shook him out of his stupor. “You there, male, who is your Matron?” A guard asked as she approached the pair, her combat gown flapping in the breeze.
Privet’s eyes went wide. “Um...I don’t really have one anymore.”
“Absurd. Stand there while I verify.”
The guard tapped her staff, and the wood beneath them grew up, completely encasing them from the waist down.
“Wow, good security here,” Setsuna praised. “Remind me never to rob this place.”
“It gets worse,” Privet grumbled. “The tree we are standing on can read your thoughts and intentions.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
As the guard closed her eyes and bowed her head, Privet unconsciously reached up and rubbed the scars on his forearm. “It’s happening again,” he whispered nervously to himself. “I am such a fool.”
He shook his head and clenched his teeth. He had never wanted to scream out loud more in his life. “Whatever happens, I deserve this.”
Privet brought his arms down and straightened his back. He fixed his eyes forward, readying himself for what was to come. Last time he had been auctioned off and sold to the highest bidder when it was discovered he didn’t have a Matron. Being poked and prodded by prospective buyers like a horse at market had been humiliating, and he prepared himself mentally to go through it again.
Setsuna stuck out her tongue and squinted.
“What are you doing?” Privet asked.
“I’m thinking of the nastiest things I can...as hard as I can.”
“Why would you...?”
The guard brought her head up and looked at Setsuna, her face twisted in disgust. “That is revolting, what is wrong with you?”
“I have a dirty mind, it’s a medical condition,” Setsuna snickered.
The guard pointed her staff at Privet. “The Queen confirms that you are a special classification,” she affirmed.
It was at that point that Privet realized he had been holding his breath. It took him a moment to absorb it. “Well, at least she kept that much of her word,” he granted.
“That’s right, he’s my escort! The Queen gave him to me,” Setsuna bragged, grabbing his muscular arm.
“Don’t say it l
ike that,” he corrected.
The guard tapped her staff and they were released from the living wood. “However, The Queen insists that you not refer to him as your escort.”
“Wait, she can hear us?” Setsuna asked, looking around eerily.
“The Queen is the forest, the forest is the Queen.”
Setsuna glanced over at Privet for confirmation.
He shrugged. “How would I know?”
“What should I call him then?” Setsuna inquired.
“She recommended the term ‘tour guide.’“
“That’s not nearly as fun,” Setsuna pouted, her lip sticking out.
The guard leaned in close to Setsuna, her eyes fierce. “Watch your step, outlander. You betrayed her in the vault. You betray one of us, you betray all of us, and the forest doesn’t forget.”
“How does she know about that?” Setsuna asked.
“If the Queen knows it, the forest knows it,” she said with a tap of her staff.
The guard spun around and left, leaving the two standing in a state of semi-shock.
Setsuna leaned in towards Privet. “Your hometown is kinda creepy.”
“Don’t I know it.”
As the guard spun around and left, they walked around the fountain at the center of the plaza. Sparkling amber water flowed down from great leaves above, rolling over the surface of the wood and spinning some pinwheels the kids had placed before moving through a channel and falling down to the next level far below them.
“It looks like most of these shops are closed,” Setsuna noticed with disappointment.
“I told you there wouldn’t be anything to do. There’s a war going on right now.”
“All the more reason to have fun,” Setsuna concluded. “How would you feel if you died tomorrow, knowing that you could have gone out on a date with a beautiful woman today?”
Setsuna grabbed his hand and pulled him up to a door.
An older man opened the door, fancily dressed, a silver tray in hand. “I am very sorry, but Lady Cottonwood and both her daughters have been called to the front lines. The restaurant is currently closed.”
Setsuna linked her fingers and rocked from side to side, looking like a little kid. “But we are sooo hungry. Could we pweeease come in?”
Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen Page 52