by A A Woods
Delicate things didn’t last long in Ferren.
She felt like a child.
Carlette shifted, rolled her shoulders, wishing she could see the last room she’d ever be in. At least she’d meet death with her head held high. By the elders, she’d faced it enough times in the past few days to be sure.
Perhaps there were only so many times one could cheat the underworld.
She sighed.
“You’re awake. I was wondering if they’d killed you.”
Carlette jumped at the sudden voice. It was harsh, a hoarse female lilt that had clearly once been strong. A voice used to shouting commands and barking orders, made rusty from screaming.
She knew immediately who it belonged to.
“The Pirate Queen,” Carlette said. It wasn’t a question.
A chuckle echoed around the damp stone.
“Call me Iara,” said the woman, moving noisily. “No point in formality down here.”
Carlette’s senses zeroed in on the scuffle of her chains.
“I heard them bring you in,” Iara rasped. “Damn soldiers ran out of here so fast I thought you might be rigged to blow. I figured maybe they wanted to kill me at last, make it look like some kind of mining accident.”
Carlette didn’t answer.
“What did you do, to make grown men sprint away like little girls?”
Carlette swallowed.
Was there any point in keeping secrets, this close to the end?
“I enhabited an Amonoux,” she said, hating how the small words mangled the grand complexity of her encounter with the she-wolf. “I’m a Furix.”
The Ceillan woman’s laugh turned into a hacking cough.
“Damn,” Iara said at last. Stone shifted and Carlette caught the pungent smell of an unwashed body. “I thought you were just a hood one of them fucked.”
Carlette leaned against the obsidian. She could smell salt breeze in the distance, hear crashing waves and seagulls. The sound of freedom, so close and yet so far away, made her blood curdle.
After a moment, Iara spoke again. “They’re going to execute you in the morning. Heard one of the boys say it.”
“I know.”
“You seem calm. Not every day a woman meets her end.”
Carlette snorted, leaned her head back. “I envy those women.”
Iara waited in silence and Carlette felt as if the words were being tugged out of her. They squirmed in her chest, desperate to be released. With hours left in her life, she had to talk to someone, speak her dreams aloud, or else they may as well have never existed. She wanted, needed to be heard, if only for a moment.
And, at this point, Iara was the best audience she could hope to get.
“I’m not afraid of death,” Carlette said at last, her voice small. “But I wish I could have done more. Seen more. I never lived, not really. I was a cog in their war-machine, trained for eight years to forget my own humanity.” Tears prickled in her eyes, absorbed by the blindfold. “A whole life was stolen from me and I regret that I won’t get to steal it back.”
Tuk’s face bloomed in her mind’s eye. He was grinning, his aviator cap tilted to the side as if it was about to fall off. As usual, his hair had all the tidiness of tossed straw and his chin was smeared with oil. But Carlette would have given anything to touch that smudge of grease, run her fingers through that nest of hair.
With fierce regret, she remembered every time the two of them had been alone, every time she could have acted. She’d created excuses, pushed him away. She’d had orders, a mission, duty, training.
All that was meaningless now.
“The settlers hold their own ideas about civilization and progress,” Iara said with disgust. “I suppose one has to respect their industry. You’ve never seen the Bladed City, I assume, but I’ve been to Revinburg. I’ve seen the reasons they do what they do. Trust me when I say, it was never personal.”
“You sound like you admire them?” Carlette said.
“I do, in a way. I’ve studied them my whole life. It’s my duty to understand the enemies of my people, after all.” Iara chuckled again. “And besides, they’re not nearly as mysterious as they think they are. The Nuri are a far more complex society.”
Carlette’s heart twisted.
“And you?” she asked to change the subject. “Don’t you fear your own death?”
“Oh, they can’t kill me,” Iara said with a lazy confidence. “My men will rip their precious harbor to shreds. I’ve lost a few fingers to this adventure, but I won’t be here forever.”
“You plan to escape?”
“I don’t plan to do anything. My Featherhands won’t abandon me.”
“You place a lot of trust in pirates.”
“Pirates, my dear, are the most honest people in the world. Keep them fed and give them a cause to kill for and they’ll follow you to Hyba’s doorstep.”
“And what cause do your men kill for?”
Iara shifted, chains clanking.
“The same thing any person does. Freedom. The right to love and live and make your own way. We fight hard for such a privilege.”
“I thought the Ceilan Isles were safe.”
“In this world, nowhere is safe.” Carlette could hear the wry smile in Iara’s voice, the bitterness. “We’ve been in this war far longer than you, my miserable friend. Our sky chariots have been breaking against Delasir ships and Nuri stormriders since before Tuleaux was named. You think you’ve seen the worst of it out there in the mountains?” Iara laughed. “You have no idea.”
Carlette didn’t know what to say. She wondered if she should be insulted, but Iara’s words were true. Her own insignificance and ignorance had already roped around her, barbed with shame. How could she have believed that her power was enough to unite the tribes? What chance did one Furix stand against all the blood and pain and suffering out there? Carlette had bought into Byrna’s image of her like a starving cat swallowing a fish, and now she was sick from it.
“I’ve heard about the Featherhands,” Carlette said to distract herself from her own humiliation.
“Good things, I hope.”
Carlette laughed. “Hardly. But impressive stories.”
“I aim to entertain.”
Carlette leaned back, imagining the squalling ocean and salty breeze beyond the stone behind her. “I wish I could have seen them.”
“If I’d ever met you on the open sea, the only prison-mates you’d know would be fish.”
Carlette snorted. She liked Iara.
Yet another enemy who felt like a friend.
Footsteps echoed towards them. Even with her powers muffled, Carlette could feel a familiar mind, accompanied by two others.
The bastard-prince, flanked by armored guards.
Carlette tried to sit up straighter, using her fists to push onto her knees. She would be strong and meet whatever came without flinching.
The footsteps stopped right in front of her cell. Water continued to drip and Carlette heard the rustle of capes. She waited for the prince to address her. When he finally did, his voice was unexpectedly light.
“We’ve seen better days here in Tuleaux, Miss Carlette.”
She was silent, braced against his dry acidity.
He heaved a heavy, exasperated sigh. “Hard to believe one person could be responsible for so much damage.”
“I wasn’t responsible, Your Highness, but I did try to stop it. I apologize that I didn’t do so in time.”
Iara scoffed but they all ignored her. The prince was quiet for a long moment. Carlette could feel him thinking, making decisions.
She waited, her neck straining as fought to keep herself upright.
“Leave us.”
The guards hesitated, their doubt palpable. But they couldn’t ignore a direct order from a member of the royal family. Carlette felt them depart, oozing frustration, their boots squeaking against the damp obsidian floor.
There was a rustle as someone moved. Carlette sense
d the Prince, closer this time. Crouching in front of her, perhaps? He smelled of flowers and clean fabric and perfumed hair.
“I was sent an anonymous message that I should come and speak to you in private. About some dangerous secret. It’s a waste of time, if you ask me, but I don’t like to leave loose ends.”
“Are we in private, your majesty?”
“What is the secret?” Dirlen asked, ignoring her sarcasm.
“Why should I help you? You’re going to have me executed.”
Dirlen took a long moment to respond. “The Magistrate believes you’re dangerous.”
“And you don’t?”
“I believe you were as overwhelmed in that fiasco as any of us. You just happened to know more. So tell me, what else do you know?”
Carlette’s chin lifted even higher. She imagined meeting his eyes through the blindfold.
“I know, your majesty, that Delasir’s monsters are worse than Ferren’s. I know that there is beauty on this island, beauty that your people try to beat out and burn down. And I know that no matter what I’m accused of, I wouldn’t take any of it back.”
“Ah, spirit,” the prince said dryly. “Awfully troublesome thing, but ever so infectious. I can see why the Magistrate wants you dead.”
“I’m sorry for what happened,” Carlette said. “And I’m sorry for the people that died. But I wasn’t behind the attack.”
“It seems you misunderstand me. That’s not why the Magistrate is planning to have you killed. He believes you’re some kind of legendary demon or something. An ancestor of a famous rebel. Is he wrong?”
Carlette pursed her lips and remained silent.
Dirlen laughed again, more derisive this time.
“These settlers are so quaint, aren’t they? Imagine growing up with such fanciful stories. I can see why they get superstitious. Take this Voka character; she sounds like a bad bedtime story. A wolf-rider with blood in her hair? Honestly, how imaginative.”
“Voka was real,” Carlette said. “And she was every bit as powerful as the stories say.”
“So you met this woman? Saw her somewhere out there in the wild?”
Carlette bit the inside of her lip. Dirlen was taunting her, trying to get her to confess. And why shouldn’t she? No amount of pleading would save her now. Why bother hiding anymore?
“I know because she was my ancestor,” Carlette said, her words ringing. “I am Voka’s descendant. Her blood runs in my veins.”
When Dirlen’s voice came, it was closer than ever.
“So you can ride wolves and speak to spirits?”
“I stopped the Amonoux pack from destroying this city. If that’s a crime—”
“Tell me, how did you hide it? All those years in the Convent and then in Jemelle. How could you possibly control such a gift?”
Carlette swallowed. Grand Mera was dead, but Mya was still out there. Sheltering a deadly secret.
“I was born in Tuleaux,” she said. “Not in the Convent. My mother and I begged on the streets until she died. I survived, and when I was eight years old, Grand Mera found me.” Carlette’s throat constricted. “She protected me.”
There was a pause. Then Dirlen clucked his tongue.
“Now what am I supposed to do with that? To think I was expecting a brave warrior, raised by animals or some nonsense. Instead I find a street rat with a powerful mentor. Legend indeed.”
Carlette’s lips twisted. “Sorry to be such a disappointment, Your Majesty.”
Dirlen shifted again, stepping back. “I’m a bastard son. I’m used to disappointment.”
Carlette grabbed hold of her courage, taking a deep breath. The prince was here, listening to her. There would be no better time.
“Don’t you think,” she asked, leaning forward, “that life doesn’t have to be like this? What if the war could end? What if there was a future without all this?”
“A rebel with a dream? That’s new.”
Carlette deflated, hanging her head. “No newer than a pampered prince too comfortable to change.”
“Very philosophical. But I’m afraid I must return to my duties. I have an important role you know. Lots of learning to do.”
Carlette heard Dirlen’s cape swoosh and his boots click back another step, but she wasn’t listening. Something was crawling up her pants, scratching at the skin of her calf. Insistent. Urgent.
Warning.
“Best of luck in the City of Souls, Miss Carlette,” Dirlen said. “As interesting as you are, I’m afraid I can’t stop the Magistrate from killing you. But never fear, I’ll—”
What the prince would do, Carlette would never know. Because at that moment, the entire side of the mountain exploded in a hail of gunpowder and beetles.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: By Ground and Sky
Carlette curled into a ball as stones rained down around her. Explosions and dust filled the air. Metal crashed. Stone tumbled. Carlette threw her arms over her head, felt the iron bruise her forehead. Another blast tossed her into the corner, slamming her against the wall like a sack of flour.
Then everything stopped.
For a moment, Carlette thought she’d died. Her ears rang, a high squeaking note that pierced through any attempt to think. Her muscles felt detached from her body. There was pain, so much pain.
As the agony subsided, she realized that tiny legs were scratching at her spine, climbing the column of her neck.
With a half-shriek, Carlette tried to knock the beetles off. Her fist crunched one insect against her neck, but three more crawled up her shirt. Her hearing returned, muffled and foggy. Raised voices echoed in the mountain tunnels. Everywhere was the scrape and scuffle of insects.
Or was that just a single scraping noise, very close to her ear?
Carlette froze.
The snapping, crunching sound grew as the ringing faded. Iara was laughing. Male voices were shouting over the crackle of breaking rock.
Carlette’s blindfold fell away, half-eaten by beetles.
Information rushed at her in a kaleidoscope of sound and noise. She was in a mountain cell, or at least the remnants of one. Black stone littered the ground, sprinkled with bent iron bars. The air was thick with rock dust, sharp and slicing. Somewhere nearby the wind howled.
Carlette blinked against the darkness.
But it wasn’t darkness.
A distant red glow filtered in through the haze.
It couldn’t be…
Ocean spray whipped at her face.
Tentatively, hardly daring to believe it was real, Carlette used one gloved fist to push herself upright. She stumbled, limping on a bruised leg, but the pain barely registered. Because an entire wall of her cell had been blown off. The mountain was now open to the tumultuous sea. Thick storm clouds swirled, tumbling towards Tuleaux, and through the thunderheads Carlette could see the distant hopeful light of dawn.
Her mouth fell open.
What happened…?
Everywhere around her, beetles lay twitching. Dying. She gaped at them, understanding slowly breaching through her shock.
Byrna.
The beetle-speaker had told her about the plan to trap the Amonoux cub. Beetles coated in gunpowder. Carlette shook her head, a fanatical grin spreading over her face. It was impossible, unbelievable, but somehow her friends had come back for her.
A voice broke through her amazement.
“Carlette,” Iara barked.
Carlette whirled to see the Pirate Queen tossing aside her own blindfold. The fabric fluttered to the ground like a lost message. Her cell had burst outward, bars scattered down the hallway like broken toothpicks. Carlette gaped in wonder. Even emaciated and dirty and wearing Iron Gloves, Iara was an imposing woman. Her braided hair fell almost to her waist and her eyes flashed like lightning. She stood, feet apart, with the air of a commander about to march into battle.
Dirlen lay at her feet, bleeding from a gaping cut on his forehead.
“Help me,” Iara said. Her v
oice was urgent but calm.
Guards were still shouting from beyond where the blast had collapsed the tunnel. The sounds of boulders rolling away reverberated through Carlette’s feet. They had minutes, maybe less, before the frantic men reached their fallen prince.
With no time to think about the weight of her decision, Carlette nodded.
Stumbling forward, head still swimming, Carlette felt like she was underwater. Iara had already managed to pull one of the prince’s arms over her shoulders. She was using the strength of her legs to pull him up. Carlette struggled, her fists clumsy and ineffective as she grasped Dirlen’s other arm.
“Where are we going?” Carlette asked.
“The air.”
“What?”
“Move!”
Stone shifted and voices rose, closer this time. Carlette glanced over her shoulder as she and Iara limped to the gaping hole. The guards had created an opening. A glint of black metal appeared, the dark eye of a barrel pointing right at them.
“Duck!” Carlette screamed, yanking their three bodies forward.
They tumbled, sprawling on the debris of the explosion. A bullet pinged off the obsidian. Carlette heard a shout.
“No, stop! You might hit the prince!”
“We’ll never survive the fall,” Carlette said, panic rising as she and Iara struggled to their feet again, irreverently hauling Dirlen’s body over the debris.
“We only need to survive the leap.”
“What are you talking about? We’ll die!”
Iara grinned savagely.
“Ah, but we’ll go with the wind beneath our wings.”
“We don’t have wings!” Carlette shouted, wondering if prison had driven the woman mad.
But then she heard a sound from outside, a familiar, sharp scree. Carlette felt more than heard the thump of giant wings.
“Our rescue arrives, wolf-rider,” Iara said with a wink, hauling Dirlen another few feet.
Of course…
Trying not to think about leaping into a furious storm, Carlette doubled her efforts. The guards had widened the opening behind them, creating an almost human-sized crawl space. Carlette twisted to glance over one shoulder, but a stone shifted beneath her foot. She fell, crying out as her knee was sliced open.
