Queen of the Sylphs (11 page)

Such thoughts reminded her again of what she wanted and couldn’t have, and she sat in silence and tried not to sigh.

Justin trudged homeward, tired from his day and bitter about it. Nelson Galway seemed to have an unreasonable expectation of him, considering the man worked for his father. They’d been friends while growing up, but it wasn’t Nelson’s place to hint that Justin wasn’t working hard enough. Justin worked plenty hard. And he’d just gotten back from a terrible trip.

Ahead, the road branched off toward several different houses, one of them his father’s. Justin had planned to be moved out already, but of course that hadn’t happened. Not without a wife. He could still have a home of his own, but he didn’t want to live alone.

His father was still finishing up with the cattle, along with Nelson. At least he understood. Seeing those calves being gelded and listening to the screams . . . it was all too much a reminder of Meridal, where his tongue had been cut out. That had been the worst pain in the world, and he couldn’t ever forget it. Even with his tongue restored, he carried too many other scars.

Justin shuddered and went inside. He headed into the kitchen, where Stria, his father’s earth sylph, was playing with the marbles Cal was always making for her. She had thousands of them, and she never tired of the stupid things. Seeing her just brought the anger back. She was supposed to have been his, just like Lizzy. Justin was supposed to inherit her, along with this house and all the cattle, and he would have been rich, for Stria was an old sylph and powerful. Some of her marbles were made of ruby or emerald, brought up from diving expeditions. His father didn’t do much with them other than turn them into marbles. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t need a lot. Stria had made their home and they owned a large herd. They didn’t need more.

Justin would have put her to work. He stared at the little mud-covered, squat, doll-like creature. He would have been rich enough to give Lizzy a home that everyone else envied; only now that was impossible. Stria could have a hundred masters, but a human could only have one sylph, and thanks to Meridal, Justin was bound to Ril. He could feel the battle sylph in the back of his mind like a vague itch. He didn’t get more than that and didn’t want it. Ril ignored him, and Justin was glad—or he would have been if the damned battler hadn’t stolen his future. Both Stria and Lizzy.

He’d come home feeling hunger. Now Justin just felt sick to his stomach again. He turned to go to his room, but halfway across the kitchen, his foot shot out from under him and he had to grab the counter to keep from falling. Stria turned her broad, flat face toward him, her chinless mouth hanging open. He’d slipped on one of her marbles, he realized, and he saw her swallow convulsively.

Justin’s anger surged. She’d never be his, and all she cared about were her bloody marbles! “How can you be so stupid!” he shouted. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Stria cringed, mumbling an apology he couldn’t really hear, then plopped out of her chair and shuffled hurriedly across the floor to recover her errant toys. She left dirty footprints as she went. She was always tracking mud into the house.

“You’re making a mess!” he screamed, truly wanting to hit her in that moment.

A shadow fell over the kitchen window, and Justin heard a low growl. A quickly there, quickly vanished surge of hate flashed through him, the emotion of another, and he spun, his bladder nearly letting go. Swirling, ball lightning eyes glared in through the window.

“I wasn’t going to hurt her,” he gasped, his hands raised as he backed away. He nearly tripped over one of Stria’s marbles again, but he regained his footing and kept retreating, reaching the doorway at last and running to his room.

Stria watched her master’s son run out the door, taking his panic with him. She glanced next toward the window, where Blue’s swirling eye still regarded her.

Thank you,
she sent.

You’re welcome.

He moved away, continuing his rounds, and Stria slowly moved to collect her scattered marbles, checking them meticulously for damage. Cal would be home soon, but she wouldn’t tell him about this, not wanting to see him upset. She was glad, though, that Justin would never be her master.

Devon wandered his small underground apartment, digging through his belongings and wondering what to take, what to leave behind, and if he was losing his mind for even considering the trip.

Do you
want
to go?
Airi asked, floating around his head and ruffling his hair.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Devon turned and sat down on his bed, his hands dangling between his legs. “Oh, stars, why me?”

Because you can do this? I think it would be fun. I’d like to feel the winds of a new place.

He stared up at where he knew she floated. “You want to go?”

Yes. Coming here was wonderful. Now we have a chance to make friends with another hive. That never happens back where I came from. I like it.

Devon frowned. He appreciated her point of view, but he was terrified of leaving. More than just about anything, he hated change. Yes, he’d brought Airi here to a new place, but that hadn’t exactly been planned. He hadn’t actually had a chance to really stop and think until he was a full-fledged member of Solie’s hive. If he had been given a choice, he would have been too afraid to get out of bed that morning.

Turning, he opened the top drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a wooden flute, an instrument nearly as small as a whistle. He felt Airi’s excitement, and he raised it to his lips to play.

His fingers flashed. The music was sweet and high, filling the small room and causing his air sylph to dance happily above him. She loved this, was drawn to music as all air sylphs were, and though she’d have been his whether he had talent or not, Devon’s family had insisted he learn to play before his father transfered mastery. Devon had chosen the flute because it was portable and he could carry it anywhere, but playing the instrument calmed his mind as much as it made Airi happy. He never went a day without playing, and as his fingers danced over the holes, he felt his tensions ease.

He didn’t really think as he played, but he knew suddenly that, whether he wanted to or not, he would go to Meridal. Leon had asked him, and Solie was in agreement, and he owed them both more than he could ever admit. He’d been just an air sylph master in Eferem, little better than a laborer. Airi hadn’t even had the right to speak. Now they both had their freedom. And more than just his debt, he wanted to help the others. Their position here was precarious if the kingdoms around them decided to join forces. With Meridal on their side, they were far more secure.

Devon finished his song much more content with the world, even though he knew he’d be panicked again at some point—likely when the sheer distance he’d be traveling and the enormity of his task next occurred to him. For now, though, he and his sylph were at peace. That was all that mattered.

A knock sounded at the front door, hurried and hard. Devon felt Airi’s sudden recognition and alarm just before the knob turned violently enough to break the lock. The door swung wide.

Heyou stood there, in human form, grinning in a way that would have terrified Devon even if he didn’t already instinctively fear battle sylphs. He knew he shouldn’t, that none of the Valley battlers had any reason to hurt him, but he’d experienced their hate aura too many times and had even seen this particular battler fight. The town of Devon’s father had nearly been decimated in the process.

And, Heyou’s grin had far too many teeth. Airi pressed herself against the back of Devon’s neck, a freezing chill, just as frightened as he.

“Hi!” Heyou said, probably knowing exactly what Devon was feeling but not caring. “Since you’re leaving and everything, I was wondering if you were interested in being the father of my baby?”

Rachel sighed wearily as she swept the floor of the classroom. The children were restless, and it had been a long day. More, her arthritis was acting up and her hands ached where they held the broom. Tonight she’d have to ask Claw to make dinner and then rub some ointment into her hands.

She smiled slightly. He was wonderfully adept, and in many ways she preferred that kind of intimacy to his making love to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like his more physical attentions. At her age, she hadn’t expected to have any kind of man’s touch again, and Claw did make her feel very young. And he was doing so much better now. He was still shy, but he was trying harder and his confidence was building. When she could draw him out of his shell, which was happening more and more frequently, he was a wonderful conversationalist. Overall, Claw was a good soul, and he didn’t deserve what had been done to him.

“Let me do that . . . for you.” Slimmer, younger hands reached for the broom. Sala, her new assistant, smiled and started to sweep the floor. “There’s tea in the back room for you. Rest. I’ll finish up here.”

Rachel gave the young woman a grateful look. Most of the sylphs took classes at night while everyone else slept, but some preferred the day, and there were so many students who needed to learn. Children, adults . . . And there were just so few teachers available. When Sala volunteered to help, it had been a blessing. The young woman didn’t seem to have the compassion needed to be a good instructor for the little ones, but she controlled the older children with ease. None of her classes were unruly. All Sala’s students were quiet and well behaved.

“Thank you, Sala,” she said. Slowly making her way out of the classroom and down the dark hallway to the tiny kitchen at the back of the school, Rachel rubbed her sore hands. Everyone was gone now, and the halls echoed strangely, the soft susurration of Sala’s broom in the classroom behind her the only accompaniment to the shuffling of her feet on the polished wood.

The kitchen was a spare room overlooking the back garden, with a fireplace equipped with a pole that a kettle could be hung on. The windows were large, and Rachel sat down in the light of the setting sun, reaching for the fat pot of tea that had been left to steep on a tray in the middle of the small staff table. Sala had even set out a mug and a pot of honey, along with a small plate of cookies. Thanking whatever kind deity brought the woman, Rachel poured herself a mug and added a dollop of honey. Sitting back, she took a relishing sip and sighed.

Sala could have arranged to have her own apartment, but it suited her to stay with her friend. She arrived back at Gabralina’s shortly before dark. Letting herself in, she found her roommate wasn’t back yet. She put down her bag and went into the back room. Wat was sprawled across the bed, his legs and feet up against the wall, his head hanging over the side. He turned toward her. His coat was unbuttoned and wrinkled.

“Hello, Wat,” she said. “Where’s Gabby?”

He shrugged slowly, watching her upside down. “Working. Something to do with food. She’ll be back later.” He looked bored.

“And you’re not supposed to be somewhere else right now?” she clarified.

“No,” he said.

“Good,” she told him. Undoing her dress she said, “Service me.”

What Gabralina would think of Sala having sex with her battler, Sala didn’t know, but given how Wat had been ordered to obey her, she didn’t need her friend to find out. Conveniently, she’d learned that Wat could be ordered to forget whatever she asked. And, coitus with a battle sylph was too good to pass up. No worry of pregnancy, no bother with commitment, and her pleasure was paramount. Most interestingly, since battlers could change shape, they were able to provide all sorts of simultaneous stimulation that Sala was pretty sure the boring women of this Valley never thought of.

Wat worked every erogenous zone Sala had at once, leaving her shuddering with pleasure and him with a somewhat lost look. Sala didn’t care what he thought, any more than she worried about Gabralina coming back at an inconvenient time. When the girl got close, Wat would warn her, and once they were done, he’d forget. That was tremendously useful.

It also wasn’t enough. Not after hearing what having a battle sylph of one’s own was like. Still, she had a lead on getting one, and from there, getting more control in the Valley. It would take a while, but her plan was doable, and thanks to Gabby’s foolishness, she was already directing one battler. She had potential links to another, and in time she’d have one of her own. From there, she just had to remove a few human obstacles.

It would be hers—all the power and wealth she’d worked for in Yed, using Gabby to get into the coffers of the magistrate before she finally poisoned the man, expecting Gabralina to inherit his estate. That had been her one mistake, because Gabralina fell under suspicion for murder instead. That’s how she’d ended up on the altar as a battler sacrifice. Sala had cut her losses at that point, but that letter from her friend had been a gift from the heavens. The potential here was so much greater, and she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Sala screamed under Wat’s weight. He filled every part of her that could be filled, his body distorted and ugly to do so but perfect for what she wanted. He was part of her plan. So were a lot of other people, whether they planned to become traitors or not. By the end of it, Sala would be queen and finally have everything she was entitled to. She just had to get rid of all the people on the council first, and of course, her precious majesty Solie as well.

Chapter Eight

The healer didn’t know what to do. The queen recoiled from her, snarling and ordering her away, forcing her out of the ruling chambers even while the other healers curled up around her, staring. She felt a terrible despair at that, and since it started, the mild itch in her body had slowly grown worse, spreading into her very core.

Was she sick? Was that why the queen was rejecting her? If so, it was no sickness she’d ever seen, and the other healers didn’t understand it either—those who were still talking to her, anyway. She couldn’t affect the feeling inside her, not even using all her healing skill. The itch just kept burrowing deeper, spreading until it felt like even the pattern that bound her to her queen was beginning to break.