Hesitantly, Cara stepped from her prison. When the queen did not reach for the gauntlet, it seemed to grant her confidence, and spreading her wings, she snarled. Then suddenly she was surging across the cabin, wings beating hard, fingers outstretched. Erika flinched at the violence of the action—in the mountains, she had seen Cara tear a man limb from limb in the grips of one of her rages. Only Romaine’s dying pleas had brought the Goddess back from that madness. If she lost control here…
The harsh thud of a fist striking flesh reverberated through the cabin, followed by a crash as Cara struck the floor. Erika watched, shocked, as the Goddess thrashed, wings entangled, fingers clutching at the boards, unable to stand, to regain her feet. When she finally managed to get her limbs right beneath her, she struggled to rise, to regain her footing…
…only to meet a second blow from the queen. There was a sharp crack as Amina’s fist connected with the Goddess’s brow, then the Anahera went down in a heap. Wings twitching, this time she did not rise, did not even move. Instead, Cara’s amber eyes slid closed as she slipped into unconsciousness.
6
The Sovereign
Lukys paused in the doorway of their apartments as he caught a glimpse of Sophia within. She stood at the edge of their balcony, looking down into the now empty amphitheatre, the wind tugging at her curly brown hair. From where he stood Lukys could not see her face, but he could sense her mind once more, the grief roiling within.
He swallowed at the depths of his partner’s sadness. It came not just from Sophia’s own personal loss, but that of all her people, the pain passed on by those who had been perished a decade before, when the Calafe had led the invasion of Tangatan territory. Lukys shuddered to think how many lives had been lost on both sides because of that disastrous campaign. The war between their peoples had been born in those dark days.
But the past was fixed, unchangeable. There was nothing he could do for what already come to pass—he could only hope to change what was yet to come. Drawing in a breath, he moved through the apartment, out onto the balcony where his partner waited.
“Are you okay?” Lukys asked as he came alongside her and leaned against the railing.
Sophia did not look at him, but he could see the tears shining on her cheeks. Drawing in a breath, he looked out over Ashura. The spiral pattern of the citadel spread out before them, its swirling labyrinthine a testament to the arrogance of Sovereigns past—a masterpiece of architecture created only for their eyes. The passages of the outer citadel had no roofing, leaving them exposed to the elements and the eyes of the Sovereigns above. Lukys could see even now the men and women who were their subjects moving about the corridors. Various chambers housed nobles and dignitaries such as King Nguyen, and these formed domed circles amidst the spirals, like the compartments of some giant beehive.
Beyond the citadel, Ashura spread out across the slopes of the hillside, its multitude of marble buildings a stark contrast to the shacks their people have first settled in. At his back, Lukys could feel the icy chill of the mountains above the city, the endless depths of the fur forests. The Perfugians had built their city as a collision between civilisation and wilderness.
They were so like the Calafe, in that way. But there were differences here as well. Where the Calafe left no barrier between themselves and wilds, living in small villages amidst the trees, the Perfugians built great stone walls around themselves, leaving the wilderness untouched, but separate from their lives.
But what did any of that matter? The Calafe had fallen, their lands taken by the Tangata, ruled over now by the Old One. Lukys wondered whether the creature would remain there, safe on the island of New Nihelm, or if she would march soon against the kingdoms of humanity.
The smarter tactic would be to remain, to consolidate her power, but Lukys’s new knowledge whispered to him. The Old Ones were not patient. She would seek to use her newfound army, to lead the Tangata against her enemies, to strike first, before they had time to organise. Even now, the Old One might be leading a force through Calafe, intent on striking at the Flumeeren border. Unless forewarned, they could not stand against so many.
But if Lukys were to send a message, it would warn Amina of the new leadership in Perfugia, that the Sovereigns had allied themselves with her enemy, King Nguyen.
“I thought we’d left this all behind,” Sophia said suddenly. Lukys started, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as she turned towards him. “I wanted to escape the wars, the killing, Lukys,” she continued. “Not to wage one against my own people.”
A pounding began in the back of Lukys’s skull as he sensed his partner’s uncertainty, and for just a moment he imagined himself standing in her place, facing the choice between the lives of her people, and that of her adopted home. How would he react, had he been asked fight against Perfugia? Not just Tasha and her guards, but the ordinary men and women of the city. Maya would bring all the Tangata who had lived in New Nihelm. Young and old, they could not resist her call, the power of her Voice. Even those such as they had encountered in the seaside village, innocents who had refused to participate in the war against humanity, would be coerced into joining her campaign.
His stomach twisted and he drew her into a gentle hug. Shuddering, Sophia buried her head in his shoulder and began to sob, but Lukys found he could offer his partner no words, no reassurance for the choice they faced. What could he possibly say? That it would
