Chapter Six
Your mother is alive, Moon thought, just to hear the words again. It was suddenly hard to take a full breath. Moon had thought Opal Night regarded him as just a token in Raksuran court games, a way to take a slap at Emerald Twilight and Indigo Cloud. It was clear that was how Tempest had seen the situation.
Moving by reflex more than conscious effort, Moon followed with the others as Rise led the way to the end of the hall and the high-ceilinged passage beyond it. It curved around and then slanted upward. They walked under balconies and past smaller doorways. He heard faint sounds of movement, voices, the distant rush of water.
Somehow he hadn’t expected this, that anyone here would be closely related to him. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t that.
As a fledgling, lost, alone, and hating every instant of it, he had fantasized about this moment. He had given up on ever having it a long time ago.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to have it now.
These are the people who abandoned you, left Sorrow, Leaf, Bliss, Fern, and Light to die. They didn’t bring you here because they wanted you back, he reminded himself. But his heart pounded in anticipation.
Moon caught a hint of movement ahead, right before he saw a female Arbora standing in a doorway. She could have been one of the Arbora from Indigo Cloud: short, strongly built, with the same dark hair and bronze skin as Rise. She wore a light tunic and pants, and as they passed the doorway Moon saw younger Arbora crowded behind her. As she saw him, her eyes widened, and she turned abruptly to say something to the others with her. The excited whispers were lost as they continued down the passage. Moon couldn’t make out the words.
The walls changed suddenly, with stretches of gray stone woven in between lengths of wood. They had to be passing into the section of the trunk that had grown into the stony ridge. Then one wall opened out to a dark space, what Moon first thought was a view of the outside. Then Tempest stopped, her spines twitching in surprise.
Rise noticed her reaction, and said, “That’s the central well of the tree.”
As Moon’s eyes adjusted he saw it was a hollowed-out portion of the mountain-tree, slanted where the trunk lay against the ridge of stone. Even in the dim light he could tell the space was enormous. Far larger than Indigo Cloud’s central well, it extended much further through the bulk of the tree. The walls of dark wood were ringed with balconies, all shrouded in green vines. From the upper section, high above their heads, a waterfall tumbled straight down to a pool far below. There must be openings to the outside somewhere above, because a light mist of rain was falling.
And through the obscuring greenery, lights glowed in the dimness, randomly speckling the whole interior of the tree. This court is huge, Moon thought. He could catch faint scents in the cool damp air, flowers and some smoky incense, and many strange Raksura. Suddenly the bleak appearance of the outside of the mountain-tree, the overgrown and deserted platforms, made sense. It’s deliberate, for defense. No one passing by would have any idea a Raksuran court lived here, let alone such a large one.
Tempest exchanged a look with Beacon. Turning back to Rise, Beacon said, “It’s a very fine colony; the rumors of the size of your court were not exaggerated.”
Rise said, with a trace of hardness in her voice, “We have had much to overcome in the past turns, and our queens felt the need for the strength of numbers.”
Beacon frowned, puzzled. “Of course.”
They continued on. Not far ahead the passage opened into a large room shaped like an overturned bowl. Carvings of warriors in flight climbed the curving walls, touched with the gleam of inset gems. The image in the center of the roof was a queen, her wings and tail curled into a circle. Two other passages curved away from it, wide archways framed by the downswept wings of two carved consorts.
The room below the magnificent carving was empty, though there were cushions laid out around the raised stone bowl of the hearth. It didn’t look like anyone else had been greeted here recently, but then Jade might have arrived more than a day ago.
Rise gestured for them to sit as the warriors with her brought out a kettle and a tea set. Moon sank down onto a cushion in the back, behind Tempest and Beacon, with the other Emerald Twilight warriors ranged around. His clothes were damp and the room was cold, as if the warming stones had only been hurriedly dumped into the hearth. His throat was dry and he was glad he wouldn’t have to speak until the queens finished greeting each other.
He didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say.
Rise helped her three warriors hand out pottery cups of tea, then all four withdrew politely to the other side of the room.
Beacon leaned over to Tempest and whispered, “Well, that explains why a court this important was so anxious to get him back.” She jerked her head to indicate Moon, in case there was any doubt. “Do you think Indigo Cloud knew all along?”
Tempest flicked a spine in dismissal. “If they had, they would have taken advantage of it before this.”
Moon turned the warm cup around, looking down into the delicate yellow tea. He just wished they would get on with it already.
The other warriors leaned over to listen to Tempest and Beacon, and Streak eased forward a little to join the conversation. “If she hasn’t had a clutch since he was born, maybe there’s a problem in their bloodline, and they need him for breeding?”
Moon rubbed his eyes, conquering the impulse to shift and bite Streak’s throat out. It wasn’t a bad theory; Indigo Cloud had had problems with disease in the turns when they had been under Fell influence, which had caused the court to dwindle to its current size. But it meant nothing good for Moon. It keeps coming back to that. If he wasn’t infertile, he could help them. But if he wasn’t infertile, Indigo Cloud would want him back. If he was infertile, no court would want him.
“But this is such a big court,” Prize added. “Even if there’s been disease—”
Scaled wings rustled from the doorway opposite them. Everyone glanced around, startled. Rise pushed hurriedly to her feet and went into the passage to talk to whoever stood there. Moon set the cup down before he could spill it. His heart pounded, probably loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
But Rise returned alone, her expression tense with agitation. “I’m sorry,” she said, “the queen can’t greet you tonight.”
Tempest was so floored her spines didn’t even twitch. She said, “Is there some problem? Did we cause offense?”
It was a violation of the greeting customs, but Rise replied directly to her. “No, not that. It’s just…” It was clear Rise didn’t know what it was. “I’m sorry. I’ll take you to the guest quarters immediately.”
Tempest hesitated, then got to her feet, gesturing for the others to follow. Moon stood, torn between disappointment and relief at postponing the confrontation.
Rise led them away, down another passage that wound through several complicated turns. They passed near a section of living quarters, and Arbora and warriors peeked curiously at them from doorways and balconies. Then they climbed a set of winding stone stairs.
At the top, Rise went through a doorway to a large room that was partly made of stone, partly of dark wood. The ceiling was overgrown with heavy roots, bigger around than barrels, and entwined with vines. More big roots formed pillars, as if supporting the low arches of the ceiling. Instead of hanging bower beds, there were square stone benches scattered about, padded with furs and blankets. The floor was wood patched with stone, with a round hearth standing almost knee-high instead of a basin.
Rise said, “These are the guest quarters. The passage there leads to a bathing room. I hope you will be comfortable.”
Tempest nodded graciously. “I’m sure we will.”
Someone had obviously hurried ahead to ready the rooms; there were warming stones in the hearth and some of the carved stone knobs standing out from the walls had been spelled for light. Moon crossed the room to see it extended far enough to have broad windows opening into the dark space of the central well. There was no sign of any other current or previous occupants, and it didn’t smell like anyone he knew, but then a colony this big must have more than one set of rooms for guests.
Rise hesitated, as if there was more she wanted to say but didn’t quite dare, but then she ducked her head. “I’ll tell the reigning queen you’re settled here.”
Moon decided to just ask; the greeting ritual had all gone to piss anyway, and they couldn’t blame him for that. “Rise, are there any other visitors? A group from Indigo Cloud was coming here.”
Rise stared at him, taken aback, but then said, “No, consort, I’m sorry. No one else has come.”
Moon’s throat went tight. He had really been expecting her to say Jade was here, or had been here and been turned away, told to come back later, something.
Confused, Rise added, “But the weather has been terrible for flying for the past few days. If they were coming here they may have been delayed.”
“I’m sure that’s the case,” Tempest said. Her voice was smooth but her spines were quivering in anger. “Thank you.”
Rise nodded, threw another worried look at Moon, and made her way out.
Beacon turned accusingly to Moon. “You spoke to her. Don’t you know—”
“Everybody spoke to her,” he said, and it came out as a growl.
Beacon stepped back, and all the other warriors twitched and stared at him warily. Tempest, in the middle of drawing a breath to speak, stopped and settled her spines. After a moment, she said, “I doubt it will matter. If their queens won’t greet visitors, they can hardly accuse us of rudeness.”
Moon knew he had given away much more than he had meant to. Furious at himself, at Beacon, Tempest, everyone and everything, he went to the front of the room near the hearth and tossed his pack down on the bench that was closest to the side wall. His thoughts were bouncing from Jade lied to me to something happened on the way here and Jade’s dead, with Chime and Balm and whoever else was with her to something happened at the colony before they left and they’re all dead.
An uneasy silence settled over the room.
After a long moment, Beacon cleared her throat and said quietly to Tempest, “So this court really has two dominant bloodlines.”
“I had heard that rumor,” Tempest said. “But I didn’t put much credit in it before now.”
Prize looked at Moon. “If he’s really the only consort from the reigning queen’s last clutch, why didn’t she come out?”
Then Dart said, “She saw him.”
Gust snorted a laugh, as if it was a joke, and Beacon gave him a weary look.
Dart protested, “It’s true. The queen started to come in, saw him, and left.”
The others went quiet. Moon flushed cold, staring at Dart. He said, “You’re lying.”
Dart twitched uneasily, but said, “No. I saw her. She was dark green, that’s all I could tell. She looked right at you.”
Moon turned away and felt every nerve in his body pull as tight as wire.
No one said anything. Tempest stirred uneasily, and said, “Dart, that’s enough.”
In the quiet, Moon heard footsteps coming down the corridor. He hoped for an instant it was Jade, arriving late. Then Rise and several Arbora stepped into the room.
The Arbora carried platters of raw meat and baskets of fruit and bread. The warriors perked up, immediately interested.
The Arbora set the food down near the hearth and one put a kettle on the warming stones, then most withdrew. Rise nodded politely to Tempest and Beacon. There were three Arbora behind her, an older female who stood patiently waiting, and two younger males who craned their necks to see around Rise. They were wearing robes, red-brown and silver gray, probably hastily thrown on over other clothes, if Indigo Cloud’s reaction to unexpected visitors was anything to judge by. One of the younger Arbora spotted Moon and nudged the other with an elbow. They both stared until the older woman glanced at them and hissed. Abashed, both retreated into the passage.
Speaking directly to Tempest again, Rise said, “The reigning queen of our bloodline thought that the consort might be more comfortable in a bower with more privacy.”
Now everyone turned to stare at him. Right, Moon thought, bitterly amused. He could choose between the hospitality of a queen who had been disgusted at the sight of him or Tempest and her noisy, ignorant warriors. He said, “No.”
Tempest turned back to Rise and said, “He thanks the reigning queen for her kind offer, but declines to accept it.”
Rise frowned. The Arbora behind her exchanged looks of consternation. Rise pressed her lips together, obviously struggling with a reply, then finally said, “I see. I will give the queen his answer.”
Rise left and the last three Arbora trailed reluctantly after her. Moon heard them break out into a tense whispered conversation further down the hall, but he couldn’t make out the words. Everyone just stood around uneasily for a moment, then Tempest lowered her spines in resignation. “We’ve food and a dry place to sleep, and hopefully there’s hot water in the bathing room; take advantage of it. We won’t be staying here long if I can avoid it.”
She wasn’t talking to Moon. He went to the bench he had picked out, and lay down on it with his pack under his head and his back to the others. He tried to ignore their quiet talk as they ate, then explored the bathing room and settled for the night. The blankets were soft and smelled of fresh greenery, as if they had been recently aired.
It was a long way here from Indigo Cloud, and there were so many ways for even a queen as used to travel as Jade to get hurt, to get killed. And Jade didn’t know the Reaches anywhere near as well as Tempest, she wouldn’t know where the small obscure courts like Viridian Sea were, wouldn’t know where to go for help and shelter. If she had ever left Indigo Cloud at all.
Torn between despair and fear, if Moon slept at all, it was by accident. He heard every sound the warriors made, every breath, every faint noise from the corridor. At one point he came out of a light doze convinced that someone—something—was out in the passage, standing still and listening. Moon didn’t move, barely breathed, for a long time, stretching every sense. Finally he turned his head toward the doorway, but nothing stood there and no shadow fell across the floor. After a while he heard what might have been a footfall, and gradually the sensation of being watched faded.
It was a relief when he finally felt the sun lift into dawn. He got up and took advantage of the bathing room while Tempest and the warriors were still stirring. It was big enough for three or four times their number, with small pools fed by streams of water channeled down the stone walls, drapes of vines and the pillar-size roots winding between them. Moon picked a pool that had warming stones in it and took his first real bath since they had left Viridian Sea, using a soap that smelled faintly of unfamiliar flowers. He changed into the spare clothes he had brought, which had managed to stay mostly dry in his pack, and washed the others.
When he went back to the main room, the Arbora who had come to the door with Rise had returned, bringing tea and plates of fruit and flatbread. They didn’t stare at Moon the way they had last night, but he caught a few sideways looks from the younger ones.
“Is the daughter queen returned yet?” Beacon asked the older female, who was putting a kettle onto the warming stones of the hearth.
“She should be back sometime today,” the Arbora said, getting to her feet. “We thought she would come last night, but she must have decided not to fly in the storm.” She threw a quick opaque glance at Moon. “I know she would want to be here.”
“Did any visitors come last night, after we arrived?” The question was out before Moon realized he was going to ask it.
The Arbora blinked, surprised, but said readily, “No, no one’s come except you.”
Moon looked away. He hadn’t really expected a different answer.
Tempest sat on one of the benches, her tail folded neatly around her feet, watching them. She had slept in her Arbora form, but had put on her winged form again for the visitors. She said, “I want to see one of the queens, it doesn’t matter which.”
Her tone had an edge to it, and the Arbora woman looked up, startled. The younger Arbora, waiting beside the door, twitched uneasily, the silk of their robes whispering. Beacon folded her arms and seemed unmoved, but the other warriors radiated discomfort.
Tempest was treading a fine line, risking rudeness to the Arbora and an insult to Opal Night. She kept her spines down, but didn’t soften her voice. She said, “We have long days of travel to return to our court, and I’m anxious to discharge this burden. Will you take that message to your queen, whichever one is most concerned?”
This burden, Moon thought, his mouth twisting sardonically. He tried not to feel rejected by the comment. It wasn’t as if he was fond of Tempest.
The Arbora got to her feet. Moon judged her age as well into maturity, but not near the point where the dark bronze sheen of her skin would begin to gray. Her dark hair was straight and her face round, her features pleasant. She looked Tempest right in the eye and said, “My name is Russet, teacher of Opal Night. I’ll tell our queen what you’ve said, and how you speak of the consort you’re supposedly protecting.”
Moon blinked, caught off guard. Even Tempest looked more surprised than offended.
Arbora had a higher status within the court than warriors, but seeing one actually confront a queen was rare.
Beacon and the other warriors looked equally taken aback. Tempest said, slowly, incredulously, as if she couldn’t believe she was having this conversation, “I meant no disrespect toward the consort.”
Russet’s eyes narrowed. Obviously unconvinced, she inclined her head stiffly to Tempest and walked out, the younger Arbora in the doorway scattering before her.
Tempest sighed, and lowered her brows to give Moon a look that suggested that this was clearly his fault. Moon hissed at her and headed for the back of the main chamber. As he passed Dart, he heard the warrior mutter to Gust, “They’re not going to invite us to eat with them, are they?”
Moon went to stand in front of the opening into the central well. The huge space was lit from high above, the shafts of morning light making the green drapes of vine darker and glinting off the mist from the waterfall. He could see garden terraces a few hundred paces below this level, all heavily planted with bushes, small trees, vines, berry brambles, and the green leafy plants that usually meant belowground root vegetables. The reservoir that caught the waterfall runoff was lined with flat gray stones. Several Arbora walked along it, some of them pausing to pull up basket traps that might be for fish or crustaceans.
Russet’s reaction had confused him. But then Russet was just one Arbora, doing what Arbora did best and reminding the Aeriat to follow their own rules.
Vines rustled as Tempest moved up behind him. Moon felt the back of his neck itch with her proximity, but he didn’t shift. She said, “If they don’t send someone to greet me before the sun reaches noon, we’re leaving.”
Moon’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t considered this, that Opal Night’s failure to greet Tempest might negate the whole arrangement. If Tempest took him back to Indigo Cloud, they couldn’t refuse to accept him, could they? If they weren’t all dead, if Jade hadn’t run into disaster on her way here. He said, carefully keeping his voice neutral, “‘We?’”
“Not you,” she said, her voice dry. “If Indigo Cloud refuses to take you back, I’m not getting stuck with you.”
Moon’s whole body went tight, as if somebody had punched him in the heart. Jade’s not coming. Tempest knows she’s not coming.
He flung himself away from the wall, shoved past Tempest, and slammed across the room to the bench where he had left his pack. He didn’t realize he had shifted until he reached for the worn leather and saw the black scales and fully extended claws.
He started for the door and Tempest came from overhead, bounced off a root pillar and landed in front of him. She demanded, “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.” You would think it was obvious.
“What? You can’t—” She hissed in disbelief, then said, “Moon, that was a joke.”
Moon lashed his tail, frustrated, furious. It struck him then, the difference between what she had said and what he had somehow heard. But he was too angry for that to make much of a difference. “Get out of my way.”
She growled in exasperation. “You can’t go back to Indigo Cloud! They can’t take you in unless Opal Night formally gives you up—”
“I know that!” He meant to say the words but they came out as a snarl of rage so loud the watching warriors flinched. He hissed in a breath, and forced his voice down to the normal range. “Get out of my way.”
Behind him, stupid Dart said, “He wouldn’t really go solitary—”
“He is a solitary, idiot,” Streak told him. “That’s why this queen doesn’t want him.”
Beacon hissed at them. “Shut up.”
Tempest watched him intently. She knew he was serious now. She thought he was crazy, but she knew he meant every word. She said, “You know I have to stop you.”
Moon could feel her trying to force him to shift to groundling, but that was much harder to do when he was already in this form. Pearl hadn’t been able to make him shift, and Tempest wasn’t nearly so strong. He showed his front row of fangs. “So stop me.”
She grimaced in disbelief. “You won’t fight a queen.”
There was an idea. Fighting to the death with Tempest would solve all his problems. He sneered, “That’s what your dead sister thought.”
Tempest hit him in pure reflex, a backhanded blow that rocked Moon back even though he had been prepared for it. He didn’t give her a chance to think twice. He dropped to grab the kettle from the hearth and flung it into her face. She ducked, the ceramic shattered against the stone doorframe, and she charged him. He fell back, used her own momentum to flip her over his head. She tumbled but rolled to her feet, braced to lunge at him.
The ear-shattering roar from the corridor startled Tempest into bouncing backward and sent Moon leaping up to sink his claws into the wall. The scattered warriors all shifted to groundling and huddled in place.
The consort who stepped into the room was in his winged form, a full head taller than Moon and broader in the shoulders and chest. His spines were flared, his wings partially extended to brush both sides of the wide doorway.
In a level voice that still managed to convey boiling rage, he said, “What is this?”
Uh oh, Moon thought, still breathing hard from the aborted fight.
Moving slowly and carefully, Tempest straightened up and dropped her spines. “It was a misunderstanding.” The consort regarded her for what felt like far too many heartbeats. It seemed evident that he considered that explanation inadequate. Moon wasn’t sure how bad it was for a visiting queen to be caught fighting a consort, especially a consort who didn’t belong to her. From everyone’s reaction, he was guessing it was fairly serious. Tempest added, belatedly, “I thank you for your intervention.”
The consort didn’t react, not with so much as a flick of a spine. After a very long, silent moment, he cocked his head toward Moon. “Get down from there.”
Moon thought about it, but decided he didn’t have much of a choice. After this, Tempest was unlikely to let him provoke her enough to kill him. He dropped to the floor.
He landed two paces away from the consort, who stared down at him. The room was so silent it didn’t sound as if anyone was breathing. Moon realized what the consort was waiting for, and thought, Why not? He had no reason to protect himself and being knocked unconscious would be a relief. He shifted to groundling.
The blood pounding in his temples was suddenly louder, and the room swayed. Moon took a deep breath and stayed on his feet. The cheekbone where Tempest’s first blow had landed was numb and he could feel the skin around his eye swelling. Tempest made a sound, a faint intake of breath; possibly she hadn’t realized how hard she had hit him.
The consort twitched a spine, the only hint of agitation he had shown so far. His gaze moved over Moon from head to toe. Betraying nothing, he said, “Get your things.”
Well, you got your wish, Moon thought sourly, and looked around for his pack. He was getting thrown out. Leaning over to pick up the fallen pack made him feel less faint but more nauseous. He stumbled a little as he straightened up.
The consort still stared at him. “That’s all you brought?” He turned to Tempest.
Moon didn’t understand what he meant, but she did. She said, stiffly, “He was given the opportunity to bring his belongings. We didn’t—”
“This is all I had to bring,” Moon interrupted. “I came there with nothing. Everything I had were gifts because I was the consort. I’m not their consort anymore.” Sanity was returning like a wash of freezing water. It occurred to him that he had been doing that thing again, pretending not to feel, or pretending the feelings were about something else. Except that he seemed to have lost the knack for it, and instead of remaining safely buried it had all exploded out. He didn’t want to be dead, and he hadn’t wanted Tempest to kill him. But in that moment he had been willing to do anything to stop feeling, to change what was happening, fleeing the colony and becoming a solitary, fighting to the death with a queen, anything. He added, “It wasn’t Tempest’s fault. I made her fight me.”
“No, I—” Tempest began, then stopped, her spines flicking in agitation. Moon realized he had given her an out, that if he took responsibility for the fight, then Opal Night couldn’t blame Emerald Twilight.
The consort hissed, grabbed Moon’s wrist and pulled him out of the room. Out in the passage, several Arbora and warriors waited, listening intently, frozen in consternation. As the consort appeared, they hurriedly cleared a path, some of them climbing right up the walls. The only one Moon recognized was Russet. As they passed her, the consort snapped, “Send for Lithe.”
The consort took the first turn up a ramp that wound deeper into the tree. Moon had assumed he was being thrown out of the court, but this wasn’t the way to the colony’s main entrance. He planted his feet and wrenched his wrist out of the consort’s grip, scales rasping against his groundling skin. The consort turned back, spines lifting. Moon said, “Where are we going?”
The consort lashed his tail impatiently. “To the consorts’ bowers.” He tilted his head. “Did you want to stay with them?”
“No.”
“Then come on.”
The consort took more turns, finally passing through a doorway onto a bridge that crossed one small curve of the central well. It was almost under the spray of the waterfall, and a cool damp updraft ruffled Moon’s hair. The bridge went under a heavy arbor of vines and through the inner wall of the tree, back into a passage heavily carved with figures of Aeriat and Arbora.
The passage ended in a big round room, all carved wood, with a beaten metal hearth bowl in the center. There were low benches here too, curved ones, covered with gray furs and cushions in dark fabrics. The consort pushed Moon down on the nearest. “Sit there.”
Moon sat. His head was starting to clear; the brisk walk and the cool mist from the waterfall had helped.
The consort paced away, spines flicking and his tail lashing impatiently, then he shifted to groundling. He was bigger than Moon in this form too, with a heavier build than Aeriat usually had. His skin was a lighter gold-bronze, and he had red-brown hair. His face was more square and blunt than Moon’s, or any other consort he had seen before. He was still handsome, but he looked like he was built for fighting rather than breeding. He was dressed in dark brown and leather, a shirt that left his arms bare to show off chased gold armbands. His expression was serious, not angry. Moon asked, “So you aren’t throwing me out of the colony?”
“What?” The consort glanced at him as if that was the craziest thing he had heard yet. “Of course not.”
A young Arbora in groundling form rushed in, stumbled to a halt as she saw them. She had dark copper skin and dark hair cut into a fluffy halo around her face, and a slim strong build under the faded blue shirt and pants she wore. She had a satchel slung over one shoulder and from the dirt smudges, looked like she had been called in from gardening.
Brow furrowed with concern, she looked from Moon to the consort. “Yes?”
“Take care of him,” the consort said, and walked out.
Moon stared after him. He called out, “If I ask nicely, can I be thrown out of the colony?”
The Arbora stepped closer, peering at Moon. “Russet said the foreign queen hit you in the face, but I didn’t believe her. I see I was wrong.”
The side of Moon’s face was still numb but he could feel the skin tightening with incipient swelling. “Who are you? Who was he?”
“Oh, I’m Lithe, a mentor. He was Umber, the consort of Onyx, the sister queen.” Lithe slipped the satchel off her shoulder and knelt. She sorted through it and dumped out some cloth packets of herbs. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscular forearms and an array of bracelets, beads, and bright metal and polished stones. Ducking her head so her hair shielded her face, she added, “Ah…it was also suggested that I ask you if you had been…mistreated?”
“Not lately.” Looking past her, Moon saw they had an audience. Other Arbora gathered in the doorway from the passage, and more in a smaller doorway across the room. They were all dressed for outdoor work and carried a strong scent of loam. Realizing Moon was watching them, they retreated with some confusion, but from the rustling and whispers coming from the passage, they hadn’t gone far.
Lithe looked up at him and smiled uncertainly, clearly not sure how to take his answer. “That’s…good.” She got up to reach for a kettle. “How long were you with Indigo Cloud? Emerald Twilight told us a story about you being alone—”
“I was alone, until six months ago when Indigo Cloud’s line-grandfather found me,” Moon said. He had a question of his own. “Why did Opal Night abandon me, a female warrior, and four baby Arbora to die in the forests of the Abascene peninsula?”
“What?” Lithe almost dropped the kettle. There was a chorus of shocked gasps from the passage.
After a long moment, Lithe said, “What happened to the others?”
“They were eaten by Tath,” Moon said, not bothering to soften it, not saying “they died” or “they were killed” or any of the other words that were easier to hear but less true.
Silence stretched. Lithe set the kettle on the warming stones and looked down at it, biting her lip. “I don’t know what happened. I was born after the attack.” She cleared her throat. “Who were they? The Arbora, the warrior?”
“Leaf, Light, Bliss, and Fern. The warrior was called Sorrow.”
The Arbora just outside the room whispered to each other. Nobody seemed to have an answer. This was about what Moon had expected. And he didn’t see much point in staying here any longer. He pushed to his feet. “I’m leaving.” He could at least retrace the route between here and Indigo Cloud, looking for signs of Jade and the others.
Lithe glanced up, startled. “You can’t leave! The daughter queen wants to see you. She’s your clutchmate.”
“Clutchmate?” Moon repeated. For a moment the word didn’t make sense. “They said…Rise said I was the only survivor of the queen’s last clutch.”
“The only consort,” Lithe explained. “It was a mixed royal clutch, three consorts and two queens. One of the queens survived.” She hesitated. “Her name is Celadon. Your birthqueen is called Malachite.”
Moon shook his head, telling himself it didn’t change anything.
Lithe took that for confusion, and explained, “Malachite is the reigning queen. Onyx is the sister queen, but she’s descended from the bloodline that remained here when the court split up and half of it went to the east, generations ago.” Lithe handed Moon a cloth pad filled with herbs. Automatically he pressed it against his eye and felt the swelling start to ease immediately. Mentors augmented their healing simples with magic; the more powerful the mentor, the quicker the healing. Lithe must be very strong. “When the eastern branch of the court returned, forty turns or so ago, Malachite led them back here.” Lithe hesitated. “The consort who fathered you was killed by the Fell. They attacked the eastern colony and destroyed it.”
Moon took a deep breath, the scent of the sweet herbs tingling in his throat. “I knew it was the Fell.”
“Do you remember it?” Lithe asked, taking a seat on the fur mat near the hearth. The other Arbora had crept back into the doorways.
“No.” Sometimes Moon had thought there might be a buried memory, but he wasn’t sure if it was really there or just a construction of his imagination, made up of images of other places he had seen the Fell destroy. “I just…thought it was likely.”
“Before Indigo Cloud, you were really alone all that time? You were living as a solitary?”
“Yes.” Moon looked up, baring his teeth. “I didn’t know what a solitary was, I hadn’t seen another Raksura since the others were killed, I didn’t even know we were called Raksura—”
Lithe waved her hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it! We just—We weren’t sure how much of what Emerald Twilight told us was true. They said the queen of Indigo Cloud took you without knowing your bloodline because there were no other consorts in the court, and none from other courts who would consent.”
Moon wished yet again that Emerald Twilight had kept its mouth shut. “The sister queen,” he corrected. “The Arbora didn’t want to move the court back to the Reaches without a consort. Then the colony was attacked by Fell, and…then it didn’t matter.”
Lithe was watching him with a troubled expression. “Indigo Cloud took advantage of you.”
“Yes, but—” Moon had always seen it as the other way around, that he had been the one with the potential to take advantage of Indigo Cloud. He had always been aware of that and had tried not to, especially after realizing just how badly he wanted to stay. And it was none of Opal Night’s business. Did they really think they had taken him away from Indigo Cloud for his own good? It was tempting to believe it. But Emerald Twilight didn’t think so. And Zephyr hadn’t understood the reasoning behind it either, and she was from a court uninvolved in the situation and presumably with nothing to lose by expressing an honest opinion. “I wanted to stay.” Moon tossed the herb packet into the pile near Lithe’s satchel. “When Opal Night asked for me, you gave them an excuse to get rid of me.”
There were surprised murmurs from the Arbora in the doorway. Lithe seemed baffled. “But if all they needed was an excuse to get rid of you, why did you want to stay?”
Because it was my place! I never had a place before. It didn’t matter how I got it, it was mine. Moon didn’t want to say that to these people. “Why did Malachite bring me here? What does she want from me?”
“You belong here,” Lithe said it like it was obvious. “When you talk to Malachite—”
“She had a chance to talk to me last night.”
Flustered, Lithe actually glanced at their Arbora audience for support, but they all precipitously retreated into the passage. So everyone knew that Malachite had seen him and changed her mind. He thought Lithe would say something about it, but she just said, “I’m sorry. I’ll take you up to a bower to rest.”
Moon wasn’t tired, but he knew sitting here wasn’t going to get him any answers. Not the kind of answers he wanted, anyway.
The consort’s bowers were above this central room, reached by twisty, narrow stairs that curved up through the tree’s inner walls. As Lithe led him upward, Moon said, “Where are the other consorts?”
“Most of them live in the other set of bowers, for Onyx’s bloodline. These are for the consorts of your bloodline.”
These rooms all felt empty. “So where are they?”
Lithe was a bad liar. She could have said that they were out flying or playing with the fledglings. Instead she said, “Ah…With Celadon.” Forestalling his next question, she added, “She’ll have to tell you herself.”
She turned and took the last few steps up into a bower that had been hastily prepared; a young male Arbora was still there, dumping a bucket of heating stones into the metal hearth. The room was round, the walls carved with flowers and trees, stretching up to a domed roof set with polished blue stones. A curved bed big enough for several people hung about ten paces up one wall, and across from it a wall section was carved out, forming a small balcony with an opening that from the angle must look out on the central well.
“Do you need anything?” Lithe asked him.
I need to not be here, Moon thought. He dropped his pack on the floor. “Like what?”
Lithe hesitated. “Food…clothes?”
“No.” If she wasn’t going to answer his questions, what he mostly wanted was for her to leave.
As if that thought was evident, Lithe’s brow furrowed and she said, “It’ll be all right. You’ll see. We’re glad to have you here.”
Moon didn’t try to look as if he felt anything other than skeptical and bitter. Lithe gave in and left with the other Arbora.