“Yep, sure is. Safe travels, and like I said, Wren will be fine. She probably will sleep through at least half the battle, according to what Myuss said the prophecy stated.”
“It seems that our prophecy is surprisingly precise.”
“Yeah, and isn’t that nice?” Ember smirked, and Passea tried to ignore the thought that it had sounded like there was something else behind her words. But then the girl’s smile sweetened, and she winked at Passea, saying, “Good luck,” and followed her words with a jaunty salute.
Time to go. Passea took a final look around her bedroom, then turned toward the red mist that would guide her to her daughter. She shut her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then spoke. “To my daughter’s bedroom in the land of the Winged Blue.” Then she stepped into the mist and, minutes later, into her daughter’s bedroom.
Wren lay sleeping in her bed, looking peaceful and relaxed. Good, Passea thought, I haven’t disturbed her. The mist had formed a portal right next to where Wren lay in the bed, Passea noted, so thankfully it wouldn’t be too challenging to get her daughter through it.
Passea paused for a moment, staring down at her daughter’s familiar face. A face belonging to an amazing young girl, one who would finally be with her in person from now on, a fact Passea was exceptionally grateful for. “Sleep well, darling,” she whispered, then pulled back the bed’s covers and lifted Wren’s sleeping body, passing her through the red mist and into the land where she truly belonged. “I’ll see you in a short while.”
As long as everything goes according to plan.
*
The annoying Winged Blue girl crashed down on the floor a short distance away from Ember and Myuss’s feet. But she wasn’t in Passea’s bedroom, as their “leader” had planned. No, instead, she was in a cell deep in the depths of the castle, the cell that would be her well-deserved home for the time being. Until she didn’t need any home but a hole in the ground.
“Looks like everything’s going according to my plan,” Myuss cackled, taking a few steps forward. “I told you it would work, back when we were watching that idiot Sia sleep in the humans’ world.”
“I guess you were right. At least so far. Now we just need to wait until the battle is won. You said it was inevitable, after all,” the girl said, but her words held little if any reverence directed at the Seer. Yet Ember would come to see the truth in time. Oh, would she ever.
Myuss glanced at the ground, careful not to let Ember view the truth written on her face. It wouldn’t do to allow Ember to see how many of her words about the prophecy had been lies. It had been the only way to get Passea and Ember to follow her directions, though.
And it had worked. That was all that mattered in the end. And soon, she would be able to take her rightful place, the top-ranking position in the Winged Red, once they had won the battle. And once that useless Winged Blue girl—the one in that nasty cell, the one who was now waking up—was dead.
Which wouldn’t exactly be a huge loss, Myuss thought with a grin. One more dead Winged Blue to add to the pile they’d be leaving in their wake, and what did it matter that she was Passea’s daughter or that Passea loved her? Wren’s mother would be the last of the Winged to fall, after all. Maybe their stupid leader’s broken heart, upon finding her daughter dead, would take care of things for Myuss. She grinned even wider at that delightful thought.
“Where am I? What’s happened?” Soon the girl was fully awake, her eyes widening with fear as she took in first her cell and then Myuss and Ember. She rose on slightly shaking legs, almost stumbling as she made her way over to the cell’s bars where the two stood watching her. “Ember? Myuss? Who put me here? Please, let me out. Please!”
“Fat chance,” Myuss told her. It might have been a phrase she’d heard from those pathetic humans on Earth, but it seemed almost perfect for this particular moment.
Chapter Thirty-six
When Passea woke after a night of dark dreams, it took a few moments for her to remember why her surroundings weren’t as familiar as they should have been. Wren’s room at Torien’s wasn’t too bad, even if it was the wrong color scheme. But the room she’d provided for her daughter, in her soon-to-be permanent home, was so much lovelier. Passea found herself smiling at that thought, a smile that lasted as she changed into one of Wren’s unpleasantly blue robes.
Her smile faded the instant she heard an unexpected knock on the bedroom’s door.
“Wren? You up? And decent?” The voice was female and sounded like someone about the age of her daughter. She chided herself then for her momentary lapse in concentration: she had work to do, and she wasn’t here in Azyr on vacation.
“Come…come in.”
A younger woman entered Wren’s bedroom, and Passea saw that her visitor was indeed close to Wren’s age. She wore a sleeveless robe of a similar blue to Passea’s, along with a grin. “Good morning, Wren! Ready to have breakfast? Torien invited me over, and then I was hoping you could come to my house later, to blow off some steam. After all, who knows how much time you’ll have left to do so until the Winged Red arrive.”
“Yes, who knows?” Passea stood there for a few moments, lost in thought about exactly how much she knew about the Wingeds’ shared future, compared to this oblivious Winged Blue girl.
“So, um, breakfast? Downstairs? And what about lunch?” The young woman gestured toward the open bedroom door, an expectant quirk of her lips showing Passea she’d waited too long to answer.
So Passea cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Oh, yes, let’s. And sure, I guess I can come to lunch at your house, as long as you come meet me here first.” She tried to keep her voice passive, the way she expected Wren’s to sound, but the girl looked disappointed with her answer. Had she said it wrong? Did she…or, rather, did Wren and this person have more affection for one another than she had assumed? Passea realized that this girl looked happier to see Wren than she would have were she a mere friend or acquaintance of Wren’s.
Maybe she could use that knowledge to her advantage.
Downstairs, the shock of seeing Torien in person after all these years hit her harder than she would have liked, or expected. She paused at the entrance to the room where her husband sat, his chair near the middle of the far side of a large, wooden table. He had touches of gray in his hair and a few more lines on his face, but otherwise he looked just as handsome as when they’d first met. It hadn’t been hard to look at him when they’d had sex or when she’d sat across from him at mealtimes. No, it had just been hard to listen to him, because all his actions and words had been lies, lies and deceptions. He wasn’t the good man both his words and actions had implied. Myuss had made that very clear to her all those years ago, before Passea had taken off for the land of the Winged Blue.
Torien’s right arm was currently draped over the shoulders of a rather attractive woman with straight, black hair and an obvious attachment to him, based on the adoring look she was sending in his direction. A woman she did recognize sat to the right of Torien’s companion—Denise, Wren’s pathetic stepmom, the one who had failed to protect Wren from that monster of a stepfather. She would never forgive this woman for how greatly she had failed her daughter, and she could barely fight back the angry glare that threatened to accompany those thoughts. Denise was smiling at her, though, and so she forced an equally happy grin onto her face and took a seat opposite the black-haired woman.
“Good morning, Wrenny. And welcome home, again, from all of us here. We’re so very happy to have you back here in Azyr, and safe. But I’m guessing you don’t want to think about the past few days, when you were…gone. So, instead all I’ll say is, would you like some toast?” Torien gestured at a plate piled with thickly sliced, toasted bread. “Or maybe some almond croissants? Sia’s brother baked them, so you just know they’ll be good.”
“Anything to take my mind off tomorrow.” Passea meant her words, but she knew that no one at the table had any clue what they actually implied. She pul
led the plate of croissants toward herself and took two of them, along with some fried eggs and fruit from platters nearby. Next she poured herself a mug of coffee from a silver carafe, blowing on her steaming cup before she took a small sip.
“What, you’re drinking it black today?” Denise asked.
Damn, she had already made a mistake. “Uh, yes. To toughen myself up before the big battle.”
“Clever.” Torien’s partner, whose eyes had perhaps narrowed after Passea had spoken, said this. Or might she have just imagined it? She chose to ignore the tiny somersault in her stomach that this possible sight had caused.
Passea did her best to keep up with everything during the meal, learning that the younger woman who apparently had a thing for Wren was named Sia, and that the woman with Torien was called Rysha. Not that their names would matter for much longer, but knowing them would be helpful for at least the immediate future…only, she reminded herself, for the next day and a half.
Shortly after she’d eaten the last bite of egg, three tall, muscular Winged Blue who looked related to each other entered the room from the left. One was a woman, the other two men, and one of the men was far more handsome than the other. Which she decided he probably knew.
The less-handsome man sat down next to Denise, kissing her on the cheek, and she blushed a little and laughed softly. Thankfully, Passea knew Denise’s happiness wouldn’t last much longer. That was the only way she could hold back her rage.
“We were thinking it would be a good idea for you to go outside and train, since you’ve been away for a while, and we’re pretty sure you didn’t get any practice in while the Winged Red were holding you captive,” said the female of the trio.
“Captive?” Passea said before she could stop herself. She quickly followed it with, “Yes, they didn’t let me practice at all. Everything that happened there was very…disagreeable. So, of course. Take me outside, and I’ll practice with my bow and arrows.”
“They are already set out and waiting for you, near the targets,” said the more attractive male. “Were you wanting some help? It seemed as if you already had it fairly well down, but perhaps you’d still like some pointers?”
As if she needed pointers. She’d been practicing with a bow and arrow since she was old enough to hold one! But she couldn’t tell them that, of course. Instead, she said, “Yes, that would be very helpful.” She’d had no choice but to lie about needing the help, since, unlike Wren, she didn’t actually know where the practice area was located.
“Follow us, then, Wren.” The female gestured toward the door they’d just entered through and started to leave, the more attractive sibling right behind her. Passea rose from the table, unable to stop herself from checking out his delightfully shapely backside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sia turn to look at her, and from Sia’s confused expression, she realized that Wren never would have checked out a man’s ass, so Passea flashed a smile in her direction, receiving a beaming one in return. Then she followed the man out of the room, letting her eyes drift back to his behind as soon as she was out of Sia’s sight.
The practice area was clearly nowhere near as impressive as the one in her own land, she noticed at first glance. And why wasn’t it? As the leader of the Winged Blue, Torien had many resources at his disposal, so she couldn’t figure out why he had such simple targets and had given Wren such a plain bow. Or at least it was plain in comparison to the one she had gifted her daughter with, when they’d first seen one another again. Memories of their reunion ran through her mind as she picked up the bow, taking an arrow from the male Winged Blue.
The tall female turned to her brother. “So, will I be tutoring her, or will you, Faest?”
“I suppose she might need to see what not to do, Speyd, so maybe you should start.” The male triplet named Faest smirked in Speyd’s direction, who in turn flipped him off.
Speyd stood at her right, and once the bow was strung and the arrow nocked, Speyd carefully eyed the adjustment of each part of Passea’s body. Not that it was necessary, because once she was finished, she nodded, saying, “You know, Wren, your form is much better than before. I doubt you can outdo your aim from last time, though, but why not go ahead and try?”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Almost before she was done speaking, she fired off two arrows in quick succession, and each found the exact same mark on the middle target, the second splitting the first cleanly down its center.
“Need anything else to let you know I’m good enough by now?”
A slight frown from Speyd showed her that she’d forgotten her role as Wren once more. She quickly changed her sneer to a smile and said, “I mean, since you two were such great teachers and everything, for which I thank you both.”
“Y-yeah,” stuttered Faest. “I think we’re good, actually, Wren. Just like your aim.”
Good? More like one-hundred-percent perfect. And probably much better than you two could ever do. But instead of speaking those hurtful words aloud, she told them, “I’m going up to my room, then, unless there’s anything else?”
“Nope, Wren. We’ll just see you later,” Speyd said. “Have a nice rest or whatever you end up doing. You’ve earned it.”
I certainly have, Passea thought to herself. She followed that thought with one wishing the two of them a nice final day of peace…and freedom. But she didn’t mean it.
She couldn’t find much to do up in her daughter’s bedroom, although she recognized a few books on the shelf that she’d read and enjoyed when she’d last been in the land of the Winged Blue, all those years ago. Despite their being penned by authors who lived in this land, of course. She picked up the one about the delightfully deadly dragon that had killed so many fictional enemies of hers, and, sitting on the room’s surprisingly comfortable couch (well, the Winged Blue had to get some things right), she began to read.
Hours must have passed, because the sun was much lower in the sky by the time she finally looked up from the book for the first time. She would have read a bit longer, but a knock on her door and Sia’s tentative-sounding “Wren?” reminded her that she’d agreed to join that annoying young Winged for lunch.
“Coming,” she called out, placing the book by Wren’s bed. She would have much preferred to stay there and read some more, even if she was getting to the part in the book where, she recalled, a Winged Blue talked the dragon into stopping its slaughter of her people. If only the author had written a more pleasing ending. But it was intended for readers who didn’t share her beliefs, or her knowledge. The book’s unsatisfactory ending made it almost acceptable that she’d be abandoning her reading for a meal with the girl who stood on the other side of Wren’s bedroom door.
Sia looked rather happy to see her, or at least to see whom she looked like at that moment, which confirmed she’d been right, that Sia definitely had an attachment to Passea’s daughter. “What’s for lunch?” she asked the girl as they began walking down the stairs.
“Only the best cheese-and-beef pie you’re ever going to eat. My brother stayed up late making it for us, as a favor to me. He owed me one, or at least that’s what he said, even if his reason for the owed favor was that I’d introduced him to the woman who’s now his wife.”
“Oh?” Passea answered. She was careful to keep the boredom from being around Sia out of her voice.
“Not that it has anything to do with today!” Sia told Passea, her words rather rushed. Man, she had it bad for Wren. Maybe she could have some fun with this annoying girl, just to pass the time during this certain-to-be-dull meal.
*
The music playing throughout their lunch was saccharine and grossly romantic, but the pie turned out to be delicious. Passea wound up asking for seconds before she could stop herself. She’d done her best to subtly poke and prod at Sia’s affection for Wren, to poke little holes in her confidence, and to prod at the weak areas of Sia’s self-esteem. By the end of the meal, the girl looked far less happy than when she’d first seen Wren that morning
. She still managed to work up the nerve to ask Wren to dance when an especially corny song began to play.
“I really enjoyed it when we danced last time,” she said to her guest, her voice sounding hesitant as she spoke.
“I’m afraid I didn’t,” Passea told her. Sia’s slight smile collapsed, which was a good start. “And I obviously have more important things to think about than dancing, in case you forgot.”
“Of…of course, Wren. I’m sorry, I didn’t think that…”
“Yes, you didn’t. That’s because the entire fate of your world isn’t resting on your shoulders, is it?”
“Yes, no, of course,” Sia repeated, sounding slightly shell-shocked.
Good, she’d accomplished exactly what she’d wanted with this dumb, love-struck girl. Now she could return to her room, the only place here where she wouldn’t be joined or surrounded by insipid, foolish Winged Blue. “I think I’m going to leave now,” she told the girl, and she was smiling proudly by the time she had reached the front door.
Because in the house behind her, she heard sounds that might have been Sia beginning to cry.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Things hadn’t gotten any better during the hours Wren had spent trapped in her cell. And due to the lack of a window anywhere nearby, she didn’t know whether it was day or night when a small rustling sound came from the darkest corner of her cell.
“I have a knife!” she shouted in its direction.
“Yes, you do,” came the voice of an elderly woman. “Your brain.”
“My…my what is a knife?” Before Wren could try to make sense of those confusing words, a puppy-sized, silver-blue raven emerged from the corner. Its glimmering feathers lit up the cell far better than the small, flickering candle outside the bars had ever managed to in the hours Wren had spent confined in the dark cell.
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