by Lelia Eye
Though he obviously wanted to argue further, the guard paused as Skye’s last statement sunk in. The king’s moods must have become even more mercurial if they were able to induce such hesitation in this man due to nothing more than the mere thought of causing displeasure.
“But the king is still in bed,” a female Sentinel said.
“Then wake him,” Skye said pointedly. “The opportunity I bring is worth a little lost sleep.”
The first guard motioned for one of his fellows to enter the palace. “Do as he says. We’ll take this Groundfaller to the throne room, where the king may decide his fate.”
Skye stiffened at the insult, but as they were doing what he wanted, he made no further protest. Yet he marked the face of the most vocal Sentinel, telling himself that demotion would be the least of the man’s worries once Skye was restored to his rightful place as heir to the throne.
* * *
As might have been expected, King Tempest was less than pleased to be awoken for the purpose of meeting with the son he had banished. Yet to Skye’s good fortune, the unexpectedness of the visit meant that the Seneschal was not present to provide unwanted interference. Skye’s hopes began to rise. Perhaps this would not be as difficult as he had feared.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t have the lot of you dumped back down to the ground where you belong,” Tempest growled, his eyes blazing with fury as he stared at his son.
“Because I bring a prestigious prize with me,” Skye said calmly. If his time with the Groundbreathers had taught him one thing, it was how to appear deferential when he was actually seething inside.
Gesturing toward Gusty, Skye continued, “With the assistance of a captive Skychild, I managed to capture the youngest Groundbreather princess.” Though he knew Tierra’s gaze was on the king, Skye did not dare to look at her. In that moment, he was beginning to question his resolve to follow his plan through to its conclusion, and he might have faltered if he had seen the slightest hint of disapproval in her eyes. Everything had seemed so clear when he had planned this confrontation, but now that his plans were being put in motion, he felt that the outcome was not at all certain.
“And what would I want with a filthy Groundbreather?” Tempest asked with no small amount of distaste. He gazed at Tierra as one might look at a heap of rotting compost.
“It has come to my attention that the Groundbreathers have been hiding the Fenik,” Skye said. He could feel Tierra look at him sharply, but he refused to glance at her. This was another part of his schemes that he hated. Everything hinged on the possibility that Tierra had either been lying to Skye or misled by her parents. After this, she was likely to be even unhappier with him, if in fact she did not come to hate him. “The return of their daughter would be a suitable incentive to encourage them to return the creature to its rightful place in the sky.”
Tierra protested, “But the Fenik is—”
“Quiet!” Tempest barked. His narrowed eyes stared at his son in doubt, yet the fact that he was not dismissing the notion out of hand seemed to indicate that he had been expecting the creature to show up soon in some capacity. How his father could have thought such a thing, Skye did not quite know, but King Tempest would likely be less than forthcoming on the issue. Even with the deal Skye was presenting, his relationship with his father was bound to be fragile.
“Are you certain of this?” the king asked at last.
“I have an excellent source,” Skye said smoothly, neglecting to mention that his information had come from an unattractive pet bird. “They will have no choice but to relinquish the Fenik if they wish their daughter to be returned to them.”
Tempest studied him. There was a certain wildness in his eyes that made Skye long for the days before the Seneschal hooked his talons into the man. Yet evidently there was still enough sense in Tempest’s head to recognize that Skye’s proposal was a beneficial one, as the king said at last, “Very well. I shall accept this gift, Skye. I will let it be known that you have brought a great prize to me. The honor of your actions—”
“And Gusty’s,” Skye interrupted.
“And that of your friend’s,” Tempest agreed, “will be made known. I shall have a crier proclaim the return of my son and his companion and, of course, the open arms with which your king has welcomed you both.” The detached tone of his voice was at odd with his words. Slowly, he turned his eyes upon Tierra, and a sneer spread over his face. “And as for what to do with that . . . girl, I need a live captive if I am to succeed in getting the Fenik back, and I have doubts as to the treatment she will receive in prison. There are those of our kind who are not as . . . kind to Groundbreathers as I am.”
He smiled—a thin, brittle smile—and continued, “So until negotiations with the Groundbreathers have been completed, she shall be under your charge as your personal slave, to do with as you will, so long as she remains somewhat intact.”
King Tempest paused and gave Tierra’s body a slow appraisal. “For a Groundbreather, her form is not unpleasant. I would suggest you use her as your concubine, Skye, to take care of your . . . urges and keep you from expressing yourself in less appropriate ways with those who are not meant to be touched by your hands.” Though he did not explicitly say so, it was obvious he was warning his son away from Queen Mista.
Skye recoiled in surprise and disgust. For his father to suggest that he take Tierra as his slave—a practice every Skychild found abhorrent—and for him to essentially tell Skye to rape her . . . it was enough to cause bile to rise to his mouth.
The negotiations would plummet straight to the center of Terrain’s own earth should Tierra be treated in such a way as Tempest had suggested. It was obvious now that there was no longer even a vestige of Skye’s father hidden beneath the stranger that had appeared under the Seneschal’s influence. Skye was ashamed that Tierra was witness to his father’s madness, and he regretted even more that Tempest had been brought to this.
But Tierra did not become a frightened husk or even regard Skye and his father with distaste. Instead, she said to King Tempest, “You can negotiate all you want, Your Majesty, but no one knows where the Fenik is any longer, so all your efforts to find it will do you little good in the end.”
“Silence!” Tempest snapped. “I sincerely doubt your parents would tell anyone but their heir about something as important as the Fenik. As the youngest daughter, you aren’t likely to possess the knowledge we require.” He gave Skye a warning look. “I suggest you learn to keep your slave in line, Skye.”
“Of course, Father,” Skye said, bowing his head and trying not to grit his teeth. “I shall ensure she stays out of your hair for the duration of her stay here.”
“You do that,” Tempest said darkly. “And though I understand a certain amount of interaction with your stepmother is in order, I expect you to keep it to a minimum. She has been somewhat fragile of late.”
Skye had no doubt that Mista’s emotional state was directly affected by the presence of Tempest and Hawkins in her life, yet he refrained from commenting. Further antagonizing the shell of a man who used to be his father would serve no purpose. Still, Skye knew he had to find some way to get his father out from under the Seneschal’s thumb. The thought that nothing of his father might be left was one he shied away from instinctively; he would have to take action of a different sort should that be the case, and if it was, then the sky realm was in even worse straits than he had imagined.
“Father, if I may . . .” Skye said hesitantly. There was one more subject to broach.
“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Tempest said, making a quick circular motion of his hand.
“I was wondering . . . Where is Cirrus?”
“Dead!” a voice rang out through the room.
Turning, Skye glared with distaste as Hawkins entered the room and approached the throne. Though Skye’s return had to have sprung up like weeds from the earth, Hawkins did not seem rattled in the slightest. Instead, he sauntered over
to stand behind Tempest’s throne, and he gazed at Skye and his companions as though they were of no concern whatsoever.
That one word uttered by the Seneschal caused a mass of conflicting emotions to well up within Skye, but several in particular stood out: anger, despair, and an overwhelming sadness. Skye chose to latch on to his anger.
“How did he die?” Skye snarled. If the Seneschal gave the wrong answer, he would wring the life from the man with his bare hands and damn the consequences to the hell of Terrain!
Hawkins bared his teeth in a feral smile. “He obviously could not live with his guilt, for he hung himself in his own cell. Good riddance to traitorous rubbish.”
Biting back a vicious retort, Skye stared stonily at the Seneschal. “I find that hard to believe.”
“And I care not what a Groundfaller like you believes.” Hawkins turned to Tempest and spoke directly to him. “I do not know why you are even speaking to this . . . person, my king. You do remember what he attempted to do to my niece and your wife, do you not?”
“I have accepted him back, Hawkins,” Tempest growled, appearing less than pleased with the Seneschal. “He brings us a great gift: a Groundbreather princess. We can bargain with her parents for the return of the Fenik now.”
The Seneschal’s eyes flicked to Tierra and then briefly to Gusty before he turned to the king. “The Groundbreathers are traitorous and barbaric. Do you truly think they would hesitate to sacrifice someone if it means the loss of a weapon of such great power as the Fenik?”
“The decision has been made,” Tempest declared firmly, though his eyes showed him to be somewhat confused. “Now, I believe I shall retire again.” He turned his gaze on Skye. “Remember what I have told you.”
With that, the king exited the throne room, and after directing a poisonous glare at Skye, the Seneschal followed him. Skye paid him no notice, as he was too busy focusing on the thought of the friend he would never see again.
If there was one thing Skye was sure of, it was that Cirrus had been completely innocent of the charges laid at his door. And if that had been the case, then Cirrus would never have taken his own life. He would have fought until the very end.
There was more going on here. And Skye was determined to discover what it was.
But though Celesta had left the sky realm and rejoined the Groundwalker whom she loved, she continued to take thought for the Skychildren’s safety and happiness. Her children were capable, noble, good, and possessed of every virtue. But they were still affected by all the frailties of the mortal state.
Celesta was especially fearful that dark-eyed Terrain might plague the Skychildren and that his people, who were breeding like locusts and covering the earth, would seek to destroy them.
To assist them should they ever find themselves in great need, Celesta called the Fenik to return and live amongst her children.
“You shall be the protector of my descendants against the depredations of Terrain and his children,” said she. “Obey them as you would obey me.”
And thus was Celesta assured her children had no need to fear.
Though she was among the stars, she would always watch over them.
—The Book of Celesta
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Stars
Tierra was seething. Not only had that . . . that . . . idiot of a Skychild kidnapped her and brought her up to the Terrain-forsaken sky realm, but he had done so in order to obtain a creature which the Groundbreathers no longer possessed. He had ignored her and brought her here, and now the precariousness of her position had been made perfectly clear. When her parents failed to produce the Fenik, the calculating Seneschal and Skye’s madman of a father would certainly have something unpleasant in mind for her. While Skye had promised to protect her, she doubted his ability to succeed in doing such, even if he was the prince of the Skychildren.
So much for the Skychildren and their disgust for the practice of slavery. The Groundbreathers never threatened their slaves with rape! Captive Skychildren were beaten when they stepped out of line and made to remain in servitude for the rest of their lives, yes, but to suggest that she be used to satisfy Skye’s carnal lusts was a travesty that she could not even begin to fathom.
Glaring at Skye, Tierra silently dared him to even try to behave toward her in such a fashion. But she was surprised to find that although he ensured she stayed close to him at all times, he essentially ignored her. He was consumed with the account of his friend’s death and appeared determined to discover the details of what had happened to him. Thus, after Strix was consigned to the Skychild healers to have his wings healed, Skye spent a considerable amount of time chasing down anyone with even the barest hint of knowledge about his friend’s death. In this, however, he was destined to be frustrated, as few people were able to tell him more than he already knew.
“The Seneschal would not let anyone see his body or have anything to do with him,” one guard told them. This was a common refrain from those Skye had questioned. “He ordered the room sealed, and no one was allowed to enter. The next morning, the body was removed, and the cell was left the way it was before Cirrus occupied it.”
“Do you know who removed his body?” Skye asked.
“No one that I’ve talked to,” the Sentinel said. “Speculation is that the Seneschal handled it himself, but no one saw anything, and he did not ask for assistance.”
The guard hesitated for a moment, glancing at Tierra and appearing wary of saying anything further, but when Skye pressed him, he said, “I don’t know anything for certain, but there was a lot of grumbling in the Cloud Sentinel after we learned what happened. We didn’t believe that Cirrus was guilty of what they accused him. And we were angry because he was not given a proper burial. The Seneschal apparently just dropped his body over the side.”
Skye stiffened, and Tierra could tell that he was seriously upset—and if she was any judge of the matter, the guard appeared to be in a similar state.
“And there’s more,” the guard continued, but this time in so low a voice as to be almost inaudible. “There were . . . happenings that night. Things you don’t normally see, if you take my meaning. But it was all hushed up by the Seneschal.”
Looking intrigued, Skye leaned closer to the guard, and Tierra could not keep herself from doing likewise.
“What do you mean?”
“Unnatural things,” the guard responded after a furtive look around. “The wind howled for days after you left. And the night before Cirrus was to be put to death, the sky turned pitch black, and a darkness descended upon the palace. Then a flash of light appeared, and the Sentinels outside Cirrus’s cell were knocked unconscious.”
“And then?” Skye prompted.
“No one knows,” the guard said. “The Seneschal declared Cirrus a dangerous deviant and took over the guarding of Cirrus’s cell himself, disposing of the body once the man was dead.”
“That sounds rather suspicious,” Skye said with a dark glower. “It sounds to me like Hawkins did away with Cirrus himself.”
“That may very well be,” the guard said, shrugging. “It’s certainly suspicious. Afterward, the Seneschal transferred the two Sentinels who were outside Cirrus’s cell to the furthest reaches of the sky realm, giving them the worst postings he could devise. Word is that they were warned to never speak of what they saw that night.”
The man paused, and Skye seemed to consider his words. Tierra personally thought the man’s story sounded like something out of a fairytale. Even though Groundbreathers and Skychildren were able to do many things which powerless people such as the Groundwalkers would find incredible, his tale seemed more than a little contrived.
“Do you know where I might find them?” Skye finally asked.
“Unfortunately not, Your Highness.” The man seemed to retreat into himself, and he looked at Skye with frightened eyes. “If the Seneschal knew I was speaking to you like this . . .”
“Leave Hawkins to me,” Skye said in a tone just short of a snarl.
The guard appeared relieved, and with a nod, he departed to return to his duties.
It was clear to Tierra that Skye had been heavily affected by these revelations. But he mastered himself with considerable effort before he turned and strode off. Tierra, with her shorter frame, had to hurry to keep up with him.
It was evening before Tierra was able to induce Skye to say anything further concerning the matter. He had finally given up on learning more about what happened to his friend and had begun to lead them to his personal chambers.
As they passed through a large sitting room in the royal wing, Tierra paused briefly in admiration. The area was filled with lush rugs and colorful tapestries, paintings of birds and other creatures of the sky, and sculptures of the human form so perfectly chiseled that it was hard for Tierra to refrain from reaching out to touch them.
When Skye took her into his quarters, she found more of the same, yet there was a more muted touch she could not quite put her finger on—something a little less ostentatious—that she suspected was a reflection of Skye’s own hand in the decor. It was a place she could see herself relaxing in . . . had the circumstances been different.
A cot had been set up near Skye’s bed, and she eyed it warily, suspecting it was meant for her. But Skye ignored it, simply collapsing onto a small lush couch and burying his head in his hands.
After hesitating a moment, she went and sat beside him. She attempted several times to speak, yet she was not sure what to say. At last, she whispered, “Skye . . .”
He did not respond immediately. They sat there in silence for a few minutes while he gathered his thoughts, and she did not push him. Finally, however, he began to speak, his voice muffled by his hands.
