Beside him, Maisie sighed. “I know, I’m talking too much.” Adonis looked at her sharply, as her words reflected his own thoughts. “I don’t…normally. Haven’t in a long time. Part of being a spy, all that going unnoticed and whatnot.” She chuckled. “I guess I’m…reverting. It’s the fear, you know? Haven’t been this helpless since…well that’s another story.” She glanced at the fallen Anahera. “She was going to be my ticket out of here, once we figured out how to rescue the fledgelings. But that Old One of yours…” She shuddered visibly. “She’s insane, you know? Surely you know that?”
The human fell silent then, though her eyes remained unnervingly fixed upon Adonis, as though waiting for a response. As if he could. He bared his teeth at her words. Despite his fall, he remained loyal to Maya’s cause, to the destruction of humanity, the elevation of his people above all others…didn’t he?
Maisie’s eyes drifted past Adonis, to the distant burning. “She’ll destroy them all, you know,” she whispered finally. “Humanity, the Anahera…even your Tangata. That thing, she doesn’t care about any of us. You know that, right? Surely you have to see it.”
Something deep in Adonis’s soul responded to the human’s words. Instinctively he reached for the warmth of Maya’s mind, seeking reassurance from her presence, that the path she had set them on was righteous…
…and found only silence. Only emptiness. With her departure across the river, Maya’s mind no longer touched him, no longer spoke to his consciousness.
No longer influenced him.
In that moment, Adonis finally saw the last months for what they had been. Saw the grief of his fellow Tangata as they slaughtered their human partners in New Nihelm, helpless to resist Maya’s commands. Saw again his brothers and sisters lying in the snow, the dead face of a child staring at him in accusation. He witnessed the conquest of the Anaheran city, heard the pain of the fledgeling as she fought against him, saw the anguish in the eyes of Farhan as he bowed before the Old One, and Nyriah’s pain at her son’s death.
And through it all, he recalled the pressure of Maya’s Voice on his mind, her silent whisperings, her influence upon his people—and upon himself.
Finally he turned to Maisie, and nodded.
A smile touched the human’s face. “Then what are we going to do about it?”
19
The Fugitive
Erika awoke with a start, aware that darkness had claimed the world. For a moment she thought she was back in the hold of the ship, that the flames, their escape, even the queen’s true identity, had all been but a dream.
Then the darkness resolved into shadows and she felt the weight of the covers atop her, the softness of the mattress beneath. Except…the bed was cold, empty.
She sat up abruptly, swinging around in search of the Goddess. She had been right about the darkness—sunlight no longer streamed through the blinds. How long had she slept? So much for keeping watch for the enemy. Anyone could have come upon them while they’d been unawares. A chill spread down her spine—they could be creeping up on the house even now, surrounding them with soldiers, or worse, with Tangata.
Throwing off the covers, Erika swung herself out of the bed and scrambled for her boots. At least she’d left her clothes on, but in the dark the shoes evaded her, until with curse she let them fall and raced to the nearest window. Placing an eye to the blinds, she searched the ground outside, but clouds must have come across the sky as she slept, for there was no moon to light the world outside.
The sound of a foot scuffing the dirt floor came from behind Erika and she swung around, raising her fist as a matter of habit, though she had not recovered the gauntlet from Cara.
A soft glow lit the room, but instead of coming from Erika’s hand, it came instead from Cara’s as she ignited the gauntlet. A smile crossed the Goddess’s lips as she raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, there’s no one out there. I already checked,” she said with laughter in her voice.
“Oh,” Erika replied, then glanced over the Goddess’s shoulders at her wings. “Are they…”
Erika trailed off as the smile fell from her friend’s face.
“No,” Cara said softly. Her wings twitched at the pronouncement, as though they too longed for the freedom of flight. “Another week now, I think…”
Erika’s stomach twisted at the sadness in her friend’s voice and reaching out, she drew the Anahera into a hug.
“A week then,” she said, and gently she stroked her hand over the Anahera’s feathers. She knew how sensitive they could be, and the soft murmur from Cara showed her appreciation. “We’re free, Cara, a week is nothing.”
The Goddess remained silent at first, but finally Erika felt her nod and draw back. “You’re right,” Cara said, looking away. “It’s just…everything. The Old One, my mother, this queen of yours. How do you humans handle so much chaos.”
“To be fair, this all only started when you appeared, Cara.”
Cara snorted at that. “All this started when you went digging in things that were best left buried,” she replied, raising the gauntlet. She paused, before reaching up and squeezing her wrist. The artefact gave a hiss as it separated from her hand. Cara held it out with a hesitant smile. “Here, you had better take this. I’d rather not be caught breaking any more of my people’s prohibitions.”
“Thank you,” Erika said, swallowing back a wave of desire.
Whatever the Goddess had said in the mountains, the gauntlet’s magic had a hold on her. The rush, the exhilaration she felt when she activated its power, it was addictive. The gauntlet may not
