Chapter 5
Elle
“Absolutely not.”
I stood at the edge of the clearing, staring at twenty giant bees that stared back with compound eyes the size of dinner plates.
They were massive—horse-sized—with wings that created wind gusts that flattened the grass with each lazy movement.
Their fur looked soft but substantial, black and yellow stripes gleaming in the strange light of the Thornwood.
“It’s perfectly safe,” Bryx said, already approaching the largest bee, which had patches of electric blue among its black and yellow stripes. “Kevin here has only dropped two riders in the last year.”
“Kevin?” I looked at the monstrous insect. “Your giant death bee is named Kevin?”
“All the best bees are named Kevin,” Bryx said solemnly, patting the bee’s fur with obvious affection.
“That makes no sense,” Nimor said, materializing more fully from the morning mist. “You’ve only ever had one bee.”
“Exactly. And he’s the best. Therefore, all the best bees are named Kevin. Logic.”
“That’s not how logic works,” Eltrien said mildly.
Kevin buzzed, a sound like a freight train made of vibration, and Bryx laughed. “See? Kevin agrees with me.”
“The death bee is named Kevin,” I repeated, because apparently my brain was stuck on this point.
The morning had come too quickly. One moment I was fitfully sleeping, dreaming of roses with teeth and mirrors that led nowhere, and the next Vashael was shaking me awake with her pollen-covered hands, telling me it was time to fly.
The clothes they’d given me had adjusted overnight, fitting even better, like they’d been learning my body while I slept. Which was creepy, but less creepy than being naked because the realm ate my jeans, so I was calling it a win.
“You’ll ride with me,” Kaelren said, approaching one of the mid-sized bees. This one was darker than the others, with silver markings that reminded me of his carved marks.
“Why do I have to ride with you?”
“Because you’ll fall off otherwise.”
“Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”
“Would you prefer false encouragement?”
“I’d prefer not riding a giant insect through the sky, but apparently that’s not an option.”
He mounted the bee with practiced ease, then held out a hand to me. I stared at it like it might bite.
“Today,” he said. “The Crown scouts are less than an hour behind us.”
That motivated me. I took his hand—his skin was warm, which surprised me—and let him pull me up.
The ease with which he lifted me was startling; I’d forgotten how much taller he was than me, broad-shouldered and solidly built under all that leather and thorn-laced armor.
The bee’s fur was softer than I expected, like velvet made of sunshine.
I could feel its breathing, slow and steady, and underneath that, a vibration that might have been contentment.
‘Hold on,’ Kaelren said.
‘To what?’
He grabbed my arms and wrapped them around his waist. ‘To me.’
I was suddenly very aware of everything about him—the solid muscle beneath the dark leathers, the thorn-reinforced armor that looked like it had been grown rather than forged, the way his dark hair was already wind-tossed even though we hadn’t taken off yet.
He smelled like pine and danger and something else, like storms about to break.
This close, I could see the corruption spreading up his neck, silver-black veins pulsing with each heartbeat.
“This is awkward,” I muttered against his back.
“It’s necessary. Unless you’d prefer to fall a thousand feet?”
“How high are we going?”
“High enough that falling would give you time to think about all your life choices before you hit the ground.”
“You’re really bad at reassurance.”
“I told you, I’m not trying to reassure you.”
The bee’s wings started moving, a sound like the world’s largest hand fan. My stomach dropped as we lifted off, and I definitely didn’t squeak and hold on tighter. Definitely not.
The ground fell away with alarming speed. The clearing became a speck, the forest became a carpet of green and shadow, and suddenly we were above the canopy, in a world I didn’t know existed.
Wynmire from above was impossible.
The trees weren’t just tall—they were monuments to growth itself, some reaching so high their tops disappeared into actual clouds.
Bridges made of living vines connected them, creating highways in the sky where I could see tiny figures moving.
There were structures built into the trees themselves, growing from the bark like architectural tumors, windows glowing with bioluminescent light even in the morning sun.
And the mushrooms. God, the mushrooms.
They grew from the sides of the trees, some small as dinner plates, others large enough to build houses on—which someone had, apparently. I could see entire communities built on fungal platforms, connected by stairs that looked like they were spun from gossamer threads.
“It’s beautiful,” I said without meaning to.
“It’s dying,” Kaelren replied, and I felt the tension in his body. “Look closer.”
I did, and saw what he meant. There were patches of black rot spreading through some of the trees, sections where the bridges had collapsed, platforms where the lights had gone dark. It was subtle, but once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it—the realm was sick.
“What’s causing it?” I asked.
“Many things. The balance has been wrong for a long time.”
“Since my grandmother left?”
“Since before that. But her leaving accelerated it.”
We flew in formation, the crew’s bees moving with practiced synchronization.
Nimor was barely visible on his mount, seeming to fade in and out of existence.
Eltrien rode with careful grace, one hand occasionally glowing as he whispered something to his bee.
Vashael was surrounded by her ever-present pollen cloud, making her bee sneeze occasionally.
Sarnyx rode a bee with thorns actually growing from its fur, because of course she did.
And Bryx was doing aerial tricks with Kevin that made my stomach turn just watching.
“Show off,” Sarnyx called to him.
“It’s not showing off if you’re genuinely talented,” Bryx called back, doing a loop that shouldn’t have been possible on a giant insect.
“It’s showing off if you’re trying to impress the human,” Vashael said, and even through her veil I could hear her smirk.
“I’m not trying to impress anyone. Kevin, tell them I’m not trying to impress anyone.”
Kevin buzzed noncommittally.
“Traitor,” Bryx muttered.
“How long have you all been together?” I asked Kaelren, needing distraction from the fact that we were very, very high up.
“Years,” he said. “They each came to the crew for different reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“Survival, mostly. The Crown wants them dead for various crimes.”
“What crimes?”
“Existing incorrectly.”
“That’s a crime?”
“In Auradelle’s kingdom, everything is a crime if you’re not useful to him.”
“And you? What’s your crime?”
“Being born. Being promised something that was taken away. Refusing to accept it.”
“The marks.”
“Among other things.”
We flew in silence for a while, the landscape below shifting from forest to something else.
Here, the trees grew in spirals, creating natural clearings where villages clustered.
I could see people—or things that looked like people from this height—working in fields that glowed with their own light.
Harvest time in a realm where plants might harvest you back.
“There,” Eltrien called, pointing ahead. “Vyn Hollow.”
It rose from the forest like something out of a fever dream.
Trees so massive they had their own weather systems, clouds actually forming around their middles.
The structures built into and around them looked organic, like they’d been grown rather than constructed.
Bioluminescent vines traced every surface, their glow shifting in slow ripples that moved from structure to structure like silent conversation.
“It’s incredible,” I breathed.
“It’s dangerous,” Kaelren corrected. “Vyn Hollow doesn’t follow Crown law. They barely follow any law. The people there are outcasts, radicals, and worse.”
“Worse than you?”
“Much worse.”
“Then why are we going there?”
“Because outcasts and radicals are the only ones who might have answers about your marks. The legitimate sources would turn you over to Auradelle without blinking.”
“Comforting.”
“I told you—”
“You’re not trying to comfort me, I know.”
The bees began descending, and my stomach relocated somewhere around my throat.
The landing platform was a mushroom the size of a basketball court, growing from the side of one of the enormous trees.
Other bees were already there, their riders dismounting with the ease of people who did this every day.
“That was terrifying,” I said.
“That was a trained mount on a clear day.” His tone was flat. “If that terrified you, you’re going to have a very short, very unpleasant time here.”
“You could try being less of an asshole.”
“I could. But coddling you won’t keep you alive.
As we stood on the platform, I got my first real look at Vyn Hollow’s inhabitants.
They were wrong in ways that made my brain hurt trying to process them.
A woman walked past with bark for skin and leaves growing from her scalp instead of hair, arguing with what looked like a man made entirely of morning mist except for his teeth, which were disturbingly solid and sharp.
Children—or things child-sized—ran between the adults’ legs, some with too many limbs, others with not enough, all of them moving with the casual ease of creatures who’d never known anything different.