Batarian’s face took on that brooding look again. “I must think on this. Litarian, return her to the platform and guard the ladder until I make my decision.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not going back up there.”
“You are still a prisoner here,” Batarian said.
“Let’s be real for a second,” I said. “As of this moment I’m only a prisoner because I don’t feel like destroying your whole village. So don’t act like you have some kind of dominion over me.”
“I am the ruler in my own kingdom,” Batarian said through gritted teeth.
“Sure you are,” I said. “But I am not a member of your kingdom. I’ll go in some other room, and you don’t need to waste a man guarding me. I’m not going to run away. My proposal is this—you let me kill the Cimice. And then you release my wings and I go home.”
“You will return to the platform. That is where the prisoners go,” Batarian said.
I could tell he was trying to reestablish his sense of authority when his world had been turned upside down. But I wasn’t going to spend another minute on that platform. I sighed.
“Don’t make me prove a point,” I said. It would be nothing for me to set this place on fire. But I didn’t want to burn down the whole tree house unless I had to.
“You are a prisoner,” Batarian said.
“Father, I don’t think that—” Litarian began.
I shot nightfire at Sakarian. I didn’t like him anyway.
The bolt deliberately missed any vital organs. The blue flame struck the fae’s upper arm, then danced along his limb and down to his wrist, stripping away the flesh as it went.
Sakarian screeched in pain and fell to his knees. Batarian and Litarian stared at me in shock. Neither of them made any move to help Sakarian, who was whimpering.
“Quit that noise,” I said. “I didn’t even give you the benefit of my full strength.”
Batarian moved toward me. I don’t know what he intended to do. Litarian grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling the king away from me.
“I am not going to the platform,” I repeated. “Think all you want on my offer. I’m going to wait in another room.”
Litarian stepped forward, his hands up to show that he was no threat. “I will show you,” he said.
We left the room without another word from anyone.
It was possible, even probable, that I’d misplayed this. I’d bruised Batarian’s pride by demonstrating I did not have to do as he wished. I’d quite literally harmed Sakarian by using him as a demonstration. He hadn’t liked me to begin with, and he doubtless hated me now.
On the positive side of the balance book, maybe Batarian would conclude that I was more of a threat to him as a prisoner and would just let me go, which was all I’d wanted in the first place.
Litarian led me to a much smaller room across the hall that looked like a little parlor. He nodded and then left me there—unguarded.
Regardless of the outcome of their meeting, I was going to find a way to get to the Cimice and destroy them. If I had to sneak away in the middle of the night, then I would.
At this point killing the creatures before they arrived in Chicago was my priority. If Batarian never released my wings, then I could probably find another way to do so. Surely Lucifer—or one of his brothers—could overcome the magic binding the ropes.
It would be annoyingly inconvenient in the meantime, but I couldn’t wait here much longer for Batarian to get his head on straight. I’d already been more than polite.
There was a long sort of sofalike thing made of branches that stretched out against a wall. I lay down on it. My mind was racing, and I was still pumped full of energy from using my magic during the battle with the Cimice. I didn’t think I would be able to sleep, but almost immediately I drifted off. My body knew what it needed even if I didn’t.
My baby fluttered inside me. My son. The last tangible evidence that I had of my beloved. In my mind were Gabriel’s eyes, Gabriel’s mouth, Gabriel’s touch. Gabriel’s voice whispering in my ear. For now and forever they would only be in my mind, only in my memory. Since he had died, I’d had only fleeting moments to remember.
I chased monsters. I battled demons. I felt the shadow on my heart growing larger and larger with each passing day. But the grief was always there, the pain that was unyielding and unending. Even when I tried to hide from it, to find solace where I could, my sadness chased me down and overtook me.
I woke with the wetness of my tears on my cheeks, salt in my mouth, and Litarian standing above me, an indefinable expression on his face. He held my sword in one hand.
I sat up quickly, scrubbing my cheeks. “What did Batarian decide?”
“Despite my arguments to the contrary, my lord feels you cannot be trusted,” Litarian said. “He has ordered me to bind all your limbs, heedless of any possible harm to myself, and remove you as far from the village as possible so you can do no damage here in retribution.”
“Under normal circumstances I would consider that a threat,” I said, studying him carefully. “But I don’t think you’re going to carry it out.”
“No,” he said. “I am not.”
“You don’t agree that I am a threat to your village?” I asked.
“I believe that you could harm us all greatly if you so chose,” Litarian said. “However, I also believe you would not choose to do so unless necessary.”
“I don’t want to hurt you at all,” I said. “I just want to be free.”
Litarian nodded and indicated I should turn around. I did so, hoping he was going to release my wings and not slit my throat with my own sword when my back was turned.
He murmured low in his native language, and the bonds were released. My wings stretched, unfurled—and immediately cramped from being held in a fixed position for so long.
I eased them out slowly, until they were at their fullest extension, arching my back like a cat as the blood flowed though the tight muscles. I felt a touch on the silver feathers and closed my wings, turning to Litarian in surprise.
He drew his hand back, his cheeks coloring. “I’m sorry,” he said. He handed my sword to me to cover his embarrassment. “They are just so beautiful. It must be an incredible feeling, to soar above the trees.”
“It is,” I said, thinking of how free I felt when flying. “Well, listen, thanks for letting me go.”
“You go to destroy the Cimice,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” I said. “I can’t let them get to my city.”
“I will go with you,” he said.
“Um,” I said. I could travel a lot faster without him, especially now that I had my wings back.
“I can show you precisely where the colony is located,” Litarian said. “My life is forfeit, in any event. My lord will certainly take it hard that I released you.”
“I could knock you out,” I offered. “Make it look like you tried to hold me here but I escaped.”
Litarian shook his head. “Batarian would see through such a fiction. I argued too ferociously in your favor.”
I didn’t want to bring Litarian with me. But it seemed a poor repayment for my freedom to leave him here to be executed.
“All right,” I said finally, although I had no idea what I would do with him once I’d taken care of the Cimice. “Take my hand.”
Litarian hesitated.
“If you want to come with me, you’re going to have to trust me,” I said impatiently. “If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done so a hundred times over.”
Litarian nodded and took my hand. There was a supple strength in his fingers, honed from years of pulling a bowstring. I spoke the words of the veil that would cover us, and heard him gasp.
“You disappeared,” he said, his voice full of wonder.
“Yes,” I said. “And so have you. We’re more or less invisible now.”
I kept a firm grip on his hand so he wouldn’t go wandering off.
“What is ‘more or less invisible’?” Litarian whispered.
