Queen of the Sylphs (31 page)

Solie stepped forward to take her hands. “Wano is a healer,” she repeated. “I brought her here for Leon.”

Tears started in Betha’s eyes, while the children began jabbering. Wano felt their grief whip shock into joy.

“You did? She is?” Betha threw herself forward and hugged Wano tightly. “Oh, thank you! Come! Come!”

She led Wano toward the stairs, shushing the younger girls. “The sylphs are working hard, but he’s fading. His body’s so weak. We’ve been giving him water and broth by squeezing a rag into his mouth. Out of the way, Lizzy.”

She led them up the stairs. The girl named Lizzy scrambled to stay ahead of them as they made their way to the main bedroom.

A battle sylph met them at the door, studying Wano silently. Wano stopped when she saw what had been done to him. She’d never seen a battler so badly damaged and allowed to live, and she reveled in what that must mean about this hive. She stepped forward, her hand outstretched.

Solie grabbed her arm. “Not him. Inside the room.”

Wano glanced at the queen, curious, but Solie didn’t forbid her to heal the battler later. She was glad of that.

She obeyed, walking into the bedroom but stopping. A man lay in the bed. His face was gray, and if his mate had clearly lost some weight, this human looked emaciated. The bones in his arms showed under the skin. To Wano’s amazement, two sylphs crouched nearby, breathing for him and keeping his blood flowing. Bruises darkened the skin on his face and around several casts, fading to a sickly yellow color around their edges.

Wano studied the unconscious man, seeing what no one else in the room could. The two elemental sylphs had done much, unthinkable as their actions might be in her old hive, but the pattern of his life force was dwindling. His body was broken in many places, its energy twisted far from normal form. And while these two sylphs kept him alive, they had no ability to heal him.

She crossed to the bed and studied the energy flows, examined the injuries. She’d never healed a human or even seen one closely before today, but she hadn’t yet lost the ability to tell how his patterns were supposed to be in order to make him whole. Even mangled as he was, his problems were simple compared to Gabralina’s, whose wounds went so much deeper.

Readying herself, Wano pulled the blanket down so she could place both of her hands on his bare chest. All around, the family and the man’s battler gathered, their hope distracting her until she forced herself to block it out. They were just more energy after all.

Wano focused her power, matching her pattern to her patient’s and then changing it, pouring energy into him for his body to feed off. The influx was healing, reshaping his flesh and bones into the forms they were supposed to take. The man woke with a gasp halfway through the process, eyes wide with surprise and not a little pain, so she forced him back into sleep even as his family exclaimed in excitement. It was easier to do this without him moving.

The man steadily improved. Wano gave the two elemental sylphs thanks, and they retreated, slipping wearily out the window and away. Her patient’s battler stayed, watching with a hungry look. The man’s wife and offspring were crying, while the queen stood by the door, her hands clasped before her breasts.

Finally, Wano was done. She stepped back. The man shuddered and came awake again, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion before he lifted his head as much as the brace would allow and looked at the people surrounding him. “What?”

“Leon!”

“Daddy!”

The family piled on the bed, screaming and crying while they hugged him. The queen stood back, smiling brilliantly, as did the battler. He only watched the reunion, letting the others display their ecstatic joy first.

“You saved him.”

Wano turned. Gabralina stood in the doorway with Iyala, both women having come up the stairs while she was working. The blonde woman had tears streaming out of her eyes. Her pain was still there—if anything, it was worse than before—but there was something else, too: a regret and a longing. A deep loneliness worse than Wano herself had ever felt.

She nodded. “I did.”

Gabralina’s lips quivered. “What about . . . what about a battle sylph? He . . . They told me he was dead, but can you bring him back?”

Wano looked helplessly toward the queen, not sure what her master meant.

“He was torn apart,” Solie whispered. “There’s nothing left.”

Gabralina started whimpering. Wano glanced back at her, knowing there was nothing she could do. There was an old sylph pattern inside her, one she hadn’t noticed before, but the edge was frayed and torn. Gabralina’s last sylph was definitely dead. Now Wano knew the origin of the girl’s broken heart.

“I wish I could,” she said.

Gabralina buried her face in her hands, weeping again. Iyala put arms around her. Wano reached for her, too, tentatively, not to heal what she couldn’t, but to comfort. Like her master’s friend was comforting.

She touched her master’s arm, and the girl looked up, lip trembling. For a moment Wano felt a terror that her master would turn away again, and her insides itched, twisting her in the direction of becoming a queen; but then Gabralina stepped forward and threw her arms around Wano’s neck. The itching stopped.

Queen Solie watched them both, clearly pleased, and then she turned toward the happy family. The gaggle of women and the half-smothered man were all giggling and talking at once, trying to get the casts off his arms and legs, as well as the heavy brace from around his neck.

“Leon,” she said suddenly, her emotions shifting. Her voice was cold. The family quieted, and the healed man nodded. “Who attacked you?”

The man regarded her evenly, but Wano could see the lines of energy that ran from him to the battler and from the battler to the queen, and all of them could feel the same thing: a tremendous uncertainty underlain with a genuine fear.

His answer was shocking.

Chapter Twenty-three

Claw perched atop a roof overlooking the market and tried to hide the growing tempest within him. He’d thought all would be found out, that this horrible nightmare would finally be done. That Sala would be recognized as the soulless creature she was, that Leon would wake and remember her as his assailant. Claw would have died defending her, but it would have been over.

It wasn’t. For Leon, the twenty-four hours preceding the attack were gone. His family was happy to have him back, but he was clearly consternated. He had no idea of who’d attacked him, or why he’d ordered Ril to change shape on the other side of the town. He didn’t even remember his epiphany about Justin’s innocence. The new healer could do nothing about his memory loss, either. So, Sala was still unrecognized for what she was. She was still free and confident.

Remembering Rachel wasn’t working as well as it had been. Already unbalanced before he was given his freedom, Claw could now feel madness digging its claws into him, that insanity gaining a stronger hold each day, like a hunter reaching inside a hive to eat everything it touched. He didn’t want to fight it anymore. Wat was dead; poor, innocent Wat, who hadn’t understood what was being done to him. In a very real way, he’d been the only friend Claw had. In those brief moments when Wat was allowed to remember what was going on, he’d known. He’d commiserated. He’d shared.

Now Claw was alone again, bound and gagged by commands that kept him from revealing or acting on anything. Sala never touched him, so he ached, but he was glad of that, too—and horrified, and he just wanted it all to stop.

He crouched on the rooftop and watched the marketplace, all of the ordinary people making their way back and forth, dealing with their lives, their various personal issues. Their emotions were varied, unthreatening, nothing he had to worry about. All his enemies were internal.

He had no way to win. The insanity Sala wanted for him was bearing down on his soul, and the peace that Rachel had worked so hard to instill was silently crumbling. Claw shuddered and gave up the fight.

Gabralina eyed the wide bed that took up most of the sleeping room and swallowed heavily, wondering if the pain in her heart was ever going to cease. She didn’t think it could. Wat’s death had left a massive hole in her, and she couldn’t imagine it ever being filled. Even with a healer, she didn’t think such a thing was possible.

Sniffling again, wiping her eyes, she peered toward the other room that was the rest of her tiny home. She could feel Wano there, waiting. Wano. Her new sylph.

The only thing that kept this from feeling like a betrayal was that Wano was different than Wat. Wat had been lighthearted and amorous, lustful and true. Wano was reflective and quiet, unsure of herself in the exact same way Gabralina was unsure of herself—and just as lonely. She felt something like a sister.

Gabralina clung to that idea. Wano wasn’t taking Wat’s place. She was creating a new place, becoming a sister instead of a lover. Gabralina could accept a sister and not feel like she was letting Wat down. Except for one thing.

She shoved the few dresses she owned into a sack and cinched it shut, dragging it off the bed and across the floor into the other room. The healer watched her evenly, that bizarrely short hair, soft as fuzz, gleaming darkly in the lamplight.

“Do I have to call you Wano?”

The sylph blinked. “I don’t think so. But, what’s wrong with being called Wano?”

Gabralina shrugged in embarrassment. “Well, I didn’t think it out. I mean, I didn’t know you were coming or that I’d be your master and all.” She looked down at her feet. “I . . . I thought you were Wat at first, coming back to me, and I started to call
his
name. I . . . I didn’t m-mean to.” Her eyes returned to the healer. “I don’t want to call you by his name.”

The last words came out on a sob, and Wano sighed and stood, walking toward her master. She hadn’t been long in this world, but she had seen how the humans trying to comfort Gabralina did so, and so she stepped forward and put her arms around the girl, holding her while she cried. It was a slow and different kind of healing, but sure.

“You can call me whatever you want,” she said. “I don’t mind. I just like having a name.”

Gabralina wept in Wano’s arms for a while, and then they left the apartment, the blonde girl blowing out the lamp and closing the door for the last time. She knew she couldn’t come back here, not with all the memories of Wat. Her heart ached as she turned and exited the hall, Wano carrying the bag of her possessions.

They went up the same stairs where Leon had almost died and emerged into late afternoon light. It was chill, late autumn, with the bushes mostly bare, the younger trees holding a few remaining red and yellow leaves. The sun was low on the horizon, and there weren’t many people out. It was a beautiful day, crisp and fresh.

Gabralina had always liked autumn best of all the seasons, when most of the farm work was done for the year but snow hadn’t yet fallen. Back in Yed it had always been too hot for snow, and she hadn’t actually seen it until she first came here. She hadn’t seen fall colors on the trees before, either, and she’d been awed by those—in a way she hadn’t been by the freezing snow. Wat hadn’t really understood that, she remembered with a familiar pain. Not once he discovered snowballs.

“Can I call you Autumn?” she asked Wano a little shyly.

“Yes,” the sylph replied.

Gabralina smiled, and she felt Autumn’s happiness. It bolstered her spirits. “Thank you.”

They walked across town, talking quietly. Gabralina related her childhood on the farm in Yed, where they’d harvested stones more often than crops, and Autumn talked about the hive where she’d been hatched, serving as just another healer until her mother decided that she was different and had to be driven away.

“It sounds like you had a worse time than I did,” Gabralina realized, “and I was nearly sacrificed!”

“I was, too, when you think about it.”

Gabralina frowned. “I guess so. We both had to leave.”

“That we did. And then things got better.”

“Yes,” Gabralina agreed. Then she looked away. “
Does
it get better?” she whimpered.

“The pain?”

“Yes. I just . . . It hurts so much that he’s gone. He
can’t
be.”

Autumn frowned, thinking. “He’s only gone from this place. Part of him still exists—his energy, if in a different pattern—and it’ll be reborn someplace else as someone new.”

Gabralina gaped. She hadn’t thought of that. Suddenly, she felt a tiny bit better.

They reached their destination, a rambling, organic-looking house that was clearly the work of sylph imaginations. A little nervous about being there, even with the almost commanding invite she’d received, Gabralina went up to the door and knocked.

It opened so quickly they had to have been waiting for her. Nelson smiled, reaching out immediately to take her bag. Autumn handed it over without comment.

“Welcome home,” the young man said. “Mom’s going to be thrilled.”

Gabralina blushed and stepped into the house. “It’s really okay that I stay here?”

“Sure. We’ve got fourteen bedrooms! Stria went a little crazy making the place.”

He led the way through a maze that Gabralina was pretty sure she would forget right away. She stayed close to Nelson, while Autumn trailed along behind, eyeing the walls and floors as well as the furniture that seemed to flow in and out of them. Gabralina mused distantly that, if they ever wanted to move a chair, they’d have to call Stria. The place was bizarrely homey. Relaxing.

They went into the kitchen with its huge harvest table, and the children called out greetings. Iyala, too, greeted them warmly.

“Welcome,” she said, rising to hug both sylph and master. “Welcome!”

“Thanks for letting us stay,” Gabralina replied.

“Say nothing of it, my duck. I’m glad you can stay and help out. It always feels like there should be more people here now that my husband is gone.” Brief pain filled her eyes; then she turned to Autumn. “How are you settling in? I hear Fhranke is doing quite well.”

“He is?” Gabralina said, remembering uncertainly the new battler and how poorly he’d reacted to Cherry. Autumn looked curious, too.