“She makes you do her dirty work,” the human rasped, “had you capture the fledgeling, has you stand with her at each village. One of their own, mated with a creature of legend. All so they will not question, so you will not realise the truth—she cares nothing for any of your people.”
“She is our Matriarch,” Adonis snarled. “She will lead us to glory.”
“She isn’t even one of you,” Maisie replied.
A growl tore from Adonis’s throat and he fought the desire to haul her from the ground and shake her again. But lying on the snowy ground, unable to stand or even lift herself to a sitting position, Maisie was too pathetic to be worth his effort. Adonis could only shake his head at her wretched figure.
“She will be the mother of my children, of a new generation of Tangata.”
To his surprise, Maisie began to laugh, though lying there in the muddy snow, the sound almost seemed like sobs, might have even been both, given the undoubted agony from her leg.
A growl rumbling from his throat, Adonis advanced on her. “Why do you laugh, human?”
Her eyes snapped up, brown against the pale white of her face. “It’s only, I didn’t realise the Tangata were so gullible,” she replied softly, shaking her head. “After all, what makes you believe the children are your own, Adonis?”
5
The Prisoner
The queen’s cabin was everything Erika’s confinement in the hull of the ship was not. The interior was small, but had been filled with an opulence the queen rarely displayed in public. A golden chandelier dangled from the low ceiling, candles swinging slowly in rhythm to the ships rocking, and several silver-framed paintings had been hung from the walls. Papers decorated a mahogany desk in the corner, the etchings almost unreadable to Erika, and she wondered again at the queen, the secret knowledge she had hidden from the rest of the world.
Erika shivered as her eyes passed over a standing mirror and she saw herself for the first time in weeks. The long blonde hair she had once so prided herself in now hung in a tangled mess, ends split where she had hacked it shorter with a knife. Shadows hung beneath her sapphire eyes, and looking into their depths, she searched for the woman who had set off into the mountains all those weeks ago, determined to save the world.
But the truth was, that woman had perished in those mountains, crushed by the weight of her discoveries, the knowledge of the Gods’ betrayal. Her spirit had faltered, and now she could not bring herself to stand again, to face the evils that threatened.
Shivering, Erika swallowed that despair, and forced her attention to what had brought her to this place.
In the other corner of the queen’s chambers, Cara crouched in a steel cage so small the Goddess could not even lay down straight. At least it was tall enough for the Anahera to stand, but her auburn wings hung limp, unable to stretch within the bars of her confinement. Erika was relieved to see the wing Cara had injured in the mountains had at least straightened. Did that mean the Goddess could fly again?
Cara didn’t look up at their appearance, and Erika swallowed, wondering what torments her friend had suffered at the hands of the queen. Though…after what Cara had faced in the mountains, the condemnation of her father, the subjugation of her people, her brother brainwashed…dying at her own hand…
“Cara,” the whisper slipped from Erika before she could contain it.
The Goddess flinched at Erika’s voice, but it was a moment before she finally lifted her head. Her movements were slow, lethargic, as though she hardly retained the will to move. Amber eyes, once so full of life, met Erika’s gaze, vacant, empty.
A tremor shook Erika, and ignoring the queen, she slipped across the room and fell to her knees beside the cage. “Cara,” she said again, trying to reach the Goddess through the bars. “Cara, what has she done to you?”
But Cara only looked away. Defeat hung about her like a cloak, and Erika couldn’t help but recall her own despair on the deck above, the realisation that she was doomed, that she could not hope to stand against all the power of the queen.
And yet…seeing her friend’s pain, Erika recalled their desperate battles in the mountains, how they had stood against the will of Farhan and Maya both. Erika had defied the Gods themselves—and lived to tell the tale. She had saved her friend from a fate worse than death. That had to count for something.
“Cara,” she whispered, gathering her courage. Managing to reach through the bars, she wrapped a hand around the Goddess’s fingers and squeezed. “Be strong. I’m going to get you out of this.”
Cara didn’t so much as lift her head this time. Erika’s stomach twisted, but giving her friend’s hand one last squeeze, she straightened.
Queen Amina shook her head as she approached the cage, emerald eyes on the Anahera. “I thought the Gods would be regal, when they finally came for us. Still, I cannot ignore the danger they pose. It is fortunate you uncovered our people’s lost magic, Archivist.”
Erika swallowed as she faced the queen. How did Amina know such things, secrets that had been kept from humanity for centuries? It had been Cara who had first revealed to Erika the origins of the gauntlet she wielded, that it was born of human magic, centuries past.
Created in a time before the Anahera and Tangata had worked together to manufacture the fall of the world—and the destruction of human civilisation.
Tightening her fist, Erika faced the woman down, though the flicker of light that came from her gauntlet only set her swaying on her feet. Her vision swirled, as though she’d just run a mile on an empty stomach. Which might very
