by A A Woods
Byrna sighed. “You and your damn honor.”
“Use your power from here. Watch for Yokan. Wait for things to break before exposing yourself. And send me a signal when she’s close.”
Byrna looked at Carlette for a long moment, her white-rimmed eyes shimmering in the darkness.
“Tell me, larva-girl,” Byrna said, and Carlette felt the weight of her words. “Are you worth all this?”
Carlette faced the Moian, forced herself to hold Byrna’s gaze.
It was like holding lightning.
“I don’t know,” Carlette replied. “I’m no leader. I don’t think I’m anything like Voka. But I believe we can do better. Be better.” She paused, looking at her scarred and bleeding hands. “I won’t ask you to die for me, beetle-speaker. But if you examine what’s in your heart, I think we’re fighting for the same cause.”
Byrna’s mouth twisted into a wicked grin. “And if I don’t have a heart?”
Carlette couldn’t help smiling back. She hadn’t been sure of Byrna before, had always second-guessed the girl’s loyalty. Moian, Bloody Paw, beetle-speaker, Ferrenese. She wore too many labels, each of them a shifting target.
But as Byrna extended one hand and Carlette reached out to grasp it, an understanding settled between them.
“To your better fucking path,” Byrna said.
Carlette nodded, squeezed Byrna’s hand, and slid out from beneath the dock like a ghost into the windblown night.
· · ─────── ·❅· ─────── · ·
It was easy for her to sneak along the rooftops, hiding in chimney shadows and climbing turrets as the Gaulday celebrations spread out before her like a carpet of laughter and sweet-smelling foods. She felt eight years old again, just a rascal sneaking around town.
But the looming presence in her mind kept her rooted in the present.
The Amonoux pack was there, brushing against her consciousness, growing ever closer. They crashed through the forest on their way to Tuleaux as quickly and lethally as the thunderheads wafting over the open ocean.
No one could feel them but her, so Carlette kept moving.
She had to reach the prince, had to make him evacuate the city. With any luck, the young and old could be saved, funneled into the tunnels, hidden in the cliffs. The city would recover, could rebuild, but if the children died…
Carlette would never forgive herself.
Guilt and frustration braided in taut vines around her ribs. This was all her fault. The letter, her hood; without them Yokan would still be in the mountains. If Carlette had held herself together, maintained control in that first Bloody Paw attack on the Iron Bridge, she would have been down there, dancing and celebrating with the rest.
And Tuk?
Carlette shook her head. She couldn’t think about Tuk, not strapped to Erebus’s table, not captured on the pirate ship behind her.
Now, more than ever, she needed to concentrate.
Carlette found a good vantage point over the main square, hidden in the shadow of a gigantic spire. The Church of the Hand’s bells rang merrily in her ear, almost deafening at this height. Scanning the crowd, Carlette felt her fear swell with every familiar face.
Mya, ruddy-cheeked and laughing.
Mileen, standing apart from the other orphans with a determined, stubborn expression.
The pinched-mouth Magistrate and his voluminous wife.
The Woodsman and his guard of hoods.
The shopkeepers who had always grinned at her and Quaina as they sprinted down the Rae du Ora.
The prince.
Carlette leaned out, examining the raised platform where the young royal sat in a place of honor, above even the Magistrate himself. Prince Dirlen looked as wry as ever, his mouth quirked as he watched the church choir sing Delasir’s anthem. It was as if the entire night was a good joke and he alone understood it.
Carlette wondered how the source of so much gossip could appear so comfortable in front of a crowd.
Six guards flanked the prince, three on either side. The crowned anchor emblem of the royal palace glimmered gold and purple on their chests. Their full regalia drew the eyes of settlers who hadn’t seen such opulence since leaving their home nation, if at all. But Dirlen wore a simple tunic and breeches, one booted foot hanging off the armrest of his throne-like chair.
Carlette needed a distraction.
She swept the area, wracking her brain for ideas.
Think, think, think...
And then, from somewhere in the distance, she felt that familiar presence, tainted by something horribly wrong.
Grand Mera was approaching the main gates.
Carlette swallowed.
She’d run out of time for an elegant approach.
Clenching her jaw, Carlette scanned her power over the choir and dove into the easiest mind. A young girl. Carlette enhabited her in an instant, doing her best not to hurt the youthful consciousness.
She tugged.
The girl’s scream pierced the night.
Panic rose, immediate and swift. Every guard grabbed their weapon, snapping to attention. The little girl was convulsing, falling to the ground. All attention was on the choir, on the pretty child now flailing like a fish.
In the chaos, Carlette slid down the wall of the church and sprinted around the edge of the Chantiere. She grabbed a hanging jacket, wrapped it around her, pulled up the fur-lined cowl. It smelled of sweat and ocean, but at least it hid her face.
Guards stepped in front of Dirlen, bristling against the hidden threat.
Carlette slipped under the hanging backdrop and grabbed the prince’s shoulder.
“What—?”
Carlette slapped a hand over his mouth. She had only seconds.
“The Bloody Paws are about to attack this city,” she muttered, the words tumbling out of her in a desperate barrage. “Don’t ask me how I know this. Please, you need to evacuate or everyone is going to die.”
“You,” said the prince as his guards turned, their faces twisted with fury as they barreled toward Carlette. “You’re that hood that went missing. The one transporting our Nuri spy!”
Strong hands clamped down on Carlette’s arms, hauling her back.
She kicked out.
“Please, sir, you need to listen. Everyone here is in danger.”
She could feel the eyes, the minds, turning their attention to the raised platform like notched arrows. The Magistrate was on his feet, his wife’s mouth open in shock. The Woodsman strode towards them, his entourage close behind. Their power swirled around her, closing in, ready to take her down.
Mya was staring helplessly at Carlette, as if the worst had finally come to pass.
But Carlette kept her attention on Prince Dirlen, willing him, begging him, to understand. “Your Majesty, I can explain everything, I promise, but there’s no time. They’re on their way right now!”
“Stop,” Dirlen said, slicing one hand. The air itself seemed to freeze. Dirlen stepped forward, eyes narrow, the click of his boots on the platform the only sound in the square. He was taller than Carlette but not by much. He glared at her, his face more serious than she had ever seen it.
“Our fences are strong,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve seen them myself. The Bloody Paws have never breeched them before.”
Carlette shook her head.
“It’s not the Bloody Paws. It’s the Amonoux pack. The rebels have baited them into the city. They’ll be here in minutes.”
Dirlen frowned.
In the corner of her eye, Carlette saw a moth fluttering by the prince’s head.
Byrna.
“How could you know this?” the prince asked.
Carlette pursed her lips, ignoring the squeezing pain of hands around her arms. What could she possibly say in answer? That she was a deserter? That she’d lost faith in the cause and discovered herself along the way? That she might have fallen in love with a Nuri spy, not only breaking the rules of Jemelle but the very laws of Delasir?
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That she was a Furix?
The moth fluttered more insistently, circling around the guards. One of the huge men swatted at it.
Carlette met the Prince’s gaze.
“I was captured by the rebels. I overheard their plan,” she said, wondering if he could sense the half-truths in her voice. “You have to listen to me, I’m on your side. I fight to defend this city.”
That, at least, was true.
Prince Dirlen frowned.
Moths were batting against Carlette’s ears now. A haze of insects was slowly filling the square, tiny feather-light wings stirring the crisp autumn night.
“Please,” Carlette pleaded. “I can’t watch anyone else die.”
For a single moment, Carlette thought the prince might listen. She could see the wheels in his head turning, the temptation to sound the alarm growing. She leaned forward, willing him to do it.
But before he could speak, a voice called out from the other side of the Chantiere.
“Well, well, well,” Grand Mera said, so cold it made the ocean spray seem like bathwater. “What have we here?”
Chapter Thirty-Four: Grand Plans
Carlette struggled helplessly against the guards, but it was no use. Grand Mera had arrived, resplendent in a sweeping cloak and hat pulled low over her eyes. In all the years Carlette had known the old woman, she’d never seen Grand Mera dress up for anyone.
Surely someone would suspect...
But a sigh of relief billowed up from the crowd. The hoods were here. The Bloody Paws wouldn’t dare attack the fences with the entirety of Jemelle inside.
Carlette struggled, snarled, but Dirlen had already turned to face the tall figure.
“Don’t listen to her!” she spat, probing with her mind, reaching for leverage. There was a horrible wrongness scattered among the trainees.
Hidden rebels in stolen hoods.
“No!” Carlette said, but the Woodsman threw her a disdainful look, waving his hand in dismissal.
“Blindfold her and take her to the cells,” he snapped. And then he shook his head. “You showed so much promise.”
“Please, it’s her!” Carlette said as a strip of fabric was tied around her face, weakening her power. “It’s Yokan!”
“Fanciful, isn’t she,” came Grand Mera’s voice. Closer. She’d reached the middle of the square, cutting through the crowd like butter. Carlette sensed a wave of unease roll through her fingertips, Mya’s confusion, Mileen’s instinctual distrust.
Even the surrounding settlers seemed to sense something wasn’t quite right.
“Grand Mera, I welcome you to Tuleaux,” said Prince Dirlen, somewhat uneasily.
“Thank you, your highness,” came Yokan’s twisted words from Grand Mera’s throat. “But it is I who must welcome you to our island. How fortuitous that you chose to join us for this Gaulday celebration.”
“It has been a pleasant experience.”
“Too bad it won’t have a pleasant end.”
There was a pregnant, horrible pause.
“I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am.”
Dirlen’s voice was tense. Whispers rose like air escaping Tuk’s balloon. Even the hands on Carlette loosened, their attention elsewhere.
“It’s not her!” Carlette shouted, kicking out, not caring who heard her. “She’s enhabited! You have to save her!”
Grand Mera’s deep-throated chuckle was chilling, the satisfaction of a predator licking its chops.
“There’s no saving her, little girl. There’s no saving any of you.”
“Ma’am, if you don’t explain yourself, I’m afraid I will have to—”
“What? Kill me? But you’ve already done so much worse than that. You’ve butchered my people, raped my lands, destroyed the balance of our peace. But do you know what makes me laugh, little prince? Despite all that, you’ve only made us stronger.”
A chair scraped, clattered as it was thrown back.
“Seize her,” commanded the Magistrate.
There was the icy sound of swords being drawn. A gunshot echoed in the square.
A woman screamed.
The guards released Carlette and she fell to her knees, ripping off her blindfold.
Grand Mera stood in the center of the crowd, her face in shadow. All around her, fights were breaking out, her fellow rebels surging forward to defend her, kill for her. The Woodsman crashed forward, his massive battleaxe cutting through the invaders like a scythe. People shrieked and shouted. Settlers crowded into the alleyways, fleeing toward the fences.
Not that way, Carlette thought helplessly as she stretched out her power, scanning for Yokan.
She had to save Grand Mera. To the guards, Mera was just the strange old bachelorette who ran Jemelle. The embodiment of a necessary curse. Disposable. The shields of Tuleaux didn’t care if she was enhabited, acting against her will.
All they saw was an enemy to cut down.
Carlette reached out for Grand Mera’s enhabited mind. She found Yokan’s connection, climbed recklessly up it.
Let her go.
Carlette’s grip on Yokan’s mind was razor-sharp and ox-strong. There was no point concealing her power anymore, no reason to hold back. Swarms of bugs were emerging from beneath the square, surging out around the platform she stood on. One Bloody Paw fell, shrieking, covered in ants.
But Carlette focused all her energy on Yokan’s mind.
She clenched tighter.
A red hood in the back screamed.
There.
The Woodsman had elbowed through, throwing settlers aside. He pulled back his axe just as Grand Mera turned to face him, grinning, eyes glowing white.
She’s all yours, Yokan said through their mental tether.
And, just like that, Yokan severed her connection with Grand Mera. It felt like stepping off an unexpected ledge, like a snapped rope whipping back at her. Carlette was left to tumble into the old woman’s mind, disoriented, out of control.
For a brief instant, Carlette saw the world through Grand Mera’s eyes.
She felt the clockwork mind of Jemelle’s headmistress, breathed through her rasping lungs. In the single heartbeat it took to fill the edges of Grand Mera’s consciousness, Carlette realized she was already half-dead, weak and broken under Yokan’s control. There would be no bringing her back. No saving her. Blotches of darkness were already spreading, places that Carlette could not touch.
Places where the tissue of her brain had become nothing more than meat.
Carlette inhaled a sob, holding tight to what was left of the woman she’d loved.
By the time she realized her mistake, it was too late.
The Woodsman’s axe came down like a cleaver on Grand Mera’s chest, caving it in half. Pain and death reverberated up Carlette’s connection, sudden, sickening. It crashed over her like a tsunami. Carlette collapsed onto all fours, vomiting all over the platform.
“It’s her!” someone shouted.
“She’s behind this!”
“Stop her!”
“Kill her!”
Cries for vengeance and shrieks of terror swirled around her like spooked birds. Through watering eyes, Carlette saw Yokan smiling at her from beneath her own stolen hood. The rebel leader was a rock in the rushing river of people, motionless against the panicked current.
Guards rushed toward Carlette, closing in.
She steeled herself, ready to fight.
But Byrna saved her with another wave of insects swarming up their legs, amplifying their screams.
Carlette staggered to her feet, using the prince’s chair for support. He was there, alone and stock-still, watching her with an unreadable frown.
“Please, Your Majesty,” Carlette wheezed, wiping her mouth. “You must evacuate.”
Dirlen’s eyes narrowed.
“Whether I am a traitor or not,” Carlette said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I am telling you now that if you do nothing, everyone here will die.”
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nbsp; “And if this is a trap? Some trick to force us all into the mountain?”
Carlette stared at the chaos in front of them, her heartbeat ragged. Grand Mera’s mind was still a tendril of smoke, curling into the starry sky. She wondered where Mya was in the crowd. Shielding her orphans, perhaps, or fighting to escape the square?
Did she know yet that her sister was dead?
Carlette turned to the prince, ready to get on her knees and beg. For Mileen’s sake. For Mya. For all the people she’d already failed.
But before she could say anything, the turmoil was broken by a single, reverberating crash.
It was too late.
The Amonoux pack had arrived.
Chapter Thirty-Five: Carnage
“Get women and children into the caves,” Dirlen barked. “Gather the soldiers.”
Carlette wanted to cry with relief as Prince Dirlen and the Magistrate began to organize. But the panic had already rolled well out of their control. Citizens of Tuleaux sprinted every which way, knocking into one another, falling to Bloody Paw weapons. The Chantiere was stained red, cobblestones outlined by rivulets of blood.
The prince grabbed Carlette’s shoulder.
“You say you’re on our side,” he said. “Prove it.”
Carlette nodded once and dove into the chaos. The crowd battered her like driftwood, and the fog of terror was worse. It filled the air like Byrna’s insects, making it impossible to think straight.
There was no time to reach the tunnels…
“To the ships!” Carlette screamed, fighting the tide of civilians. “To the ships!”
Carlette grabbed a little girl around the waist to stop her from being trampled. The mother shrieked and began to beat at Carlette’s head, but Carlette stopped her with a flicker of power.
“Take her to the docks and get on a ship,” she said, infusing her words with commanding magic.
Blank-faced, the woman accepted her child and disappeared into the darkness, heading to the boatyard.
That’s two…
Suddenly, bugs swarmed up Carlette’s legs, concentrating around her in a whirlpool of movement. She tried not to panic, took a deep breath as the insects fluttered around her. The moths arranged themselves in a halo.