Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Tuscany
The guards are all asleep.
What if they wake up?
I left Kong in bed, hoping he wouldn’t stir. It was the only way… Wasn’t it?
The homestead feels so isolated, encased by those towering walls, and nobody knows we are out here. I shouldn’t be in danger. Should I?
Kong wouldn’t suspect I’d slip away, leaving him sprawled across the bed naked, his long dick lying satiated across his thigh, his breathing deep and rough—a predator after a long hunt.
Leaving him feels awful.
But I have a mission.
I can’t turn back now; someone is meeting me at first-light on the eighth day of my campaign at Windmill Five.
Here.
Now.
The mountains to the west and the huge walls surrounding Windmill Five shield the Redwind, but I still wear a mask over my face as I step outside the small homestead.
Despite my Xin De genes and traits—the film in my nostrils and the prominent nictitating membrane over my eyes—the mask helps prevent any abrasions to my face. I have to protect myself from any skin discolouration or, shock horror, a gash from the sand-laden wind that The Cradle hurtles around.
Though… a few scars would be telling. I am not sure I would mind. Scars whisper of adventure and bravery.
I lift my long dress with one hand, holding the ends off the red dirt. My fitted purple armour beneath a thick fur coat keeps me warm in the early air.
It’s… strangely peaceful. I think about Ana.
I know this was her mission, too, brought about by her own experiences.
I should feel guilty for leaving her behind, but I don’t.
She was right about something—this may reflect negatively on her.
May even endanger her. I won’t allow that to happen.
I have made a lot of painful promises to Kong, to rid myself of blame, so I can’t bring myself to involve her.
I keep a look out.
The Windmill has a large circumference, and I skirt around the boundary, dragging my fingers along the white column. A halo of light from the homestead reflects into the pink sky, a soft hum fills both ears, and it is quite… beautiful and serene.
“Psst.”
I freeze when I hear a soft female voice, my resting heartbeat racing immediately.
“Over here.”
Following the sound, I notice a small shadow in one archway that leads between the boundary walls and into The Cradle’s desert terrain.
The little silhouette waves at me, my vision crinkling around her figure, trying to create details. Hesitantly, I walk toward her. A step at a time, the dirt under my shoes crunching in the quiet.
My pulse levels out when I reach the shadowy pocket and come face to face with a young girl, not older than twelve.
“Hello, my queen,” she whispers, and pinches her skirt, offering me a clumsy curtsy. “I am to guide you. Are you ready?”
She holds out her tiny hand, and I look down at it, surprised.
I nod. “Yes. I’m ready.”
I know the stupidity of what I’m doing. Part of me feels self-sabotaging, part intoxicated by rebellion, but I don’t believe the ruins are swarming with savages and raiders.
I saw a Common Community once, and the people who lived there were kind and gentle.
A tad na?ve, but when life is so willing to bludgeon your sunshine, there is something beautiful about ignorance.
I take her hand, and we leave Windmill Five’s fort. We follow the perimeter walls. Huddled against them, I use my Aquilla Cat Fur coat to shelter the young girl from the wind. She is Common after all.
I follow her lead. The wind whips my long hair around as we dash across the desert toward the base of the mountain, no more than a hundred metres away.
Before I can gather a sense of where we are, she is guiding me into a narrow tunnel carved through the underbelly of the earth.
When we enter, it’s completely still. I pull my Redwind mask off, gaining a better view, gazing through the short, narrow tube.
Only a hazy pink dot of light at the far end punctures the darkness that swallows all edges and shapes.
Suddenly a huge male shadow crosses in front of me, but before I can step away, the man covers the little girl’s mouth, cutting her gasp off midway, and locks her to his chest.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Kong growls, his voice low, but deadly. He stands there shirtless, a seven-foot wall of muscles rippling with anger, hair dishevelled, obviously having left the room in a hurry.
“Unhand her!” I command, reaching for the small girl. Dragging her to me, enveloping her in my arms, I smooth down her light brown hair. “I am going to visit my people at the ruins.” I look at the girl. “Are you okay?”
It then happens so fast; the world goes black when a hood is pulled over my face; I drop my mask; my pulse kicks up into my throat; feet shuffle and grunts circle me from every direction; the girl is taken from my arms; a voice hits my ear.
“It’s okay, my queen,” they say, tone level and almost… sympathetic? “The entrance to the community is secret. We have to blindfold you. We won’t hurt you.”
I try to relax, but my heavy breaths heat the space between my lips and the fabric of the hood. I lift my hands to the shroud, but someone pulls them away.
Don’t panic.
Strong. Grace. Steady.
“Kong? Where is he?” I demand.
“He is fine. We have blindfolded your Guardian as well. He will come with us. Please, don’t attempt to remove your hood, or I will have to bind your wrists.”
Bind my wrists?
In my mind’s eye, I see Eagle Rome under my bed as if the little version of me is calling out for comfort. I blink the fluffy toy away, pressing the fear down.
I have to be strong!
I’m not sure what I expected. A royal welcome, I suppose; men and women opening the gate and allowing me to stroll straight into their community?
“Why can’t I hear Kong? Kong?” I call out, frantic voice betraying my will to stay calm. “Kong! Can you hear me?”
“He is fine, my queen,” the voice soothes, but I still don’t feel right. “He put up a bit of a fight. He’s a renowned warrior. We sedated him to ensure the safety of our men, women, and children.”
Children…
“How dare you!” I huff, but it’s not at all powerful, rather fearful and helpless. “I am The Queen of The—”
“I know you’re The Queen of The Cradle, my queen,” the voice offers. “But we aren’t aligned with The Trade. We don’t know your true intentions any more than you know ours. Your assistant said you wanted to see the ruins, to see how we live here without The Trade, yes?”
“Yes, but—”
“This was your idea,” he makes clear. “You could be gauging intel for all we know. We are taking a risk, just as you are.”
I hear further footsteps. More men or women. No voices. I recognise movement in both ears, uneven and at odds with each other. I suspect that at least four individuals surround me. “I suppose—”
“You wanted this.” A gentle hand turns me to face a different direction, forcing me to focus on my foot placement and balance. “Yes? To see how we live here?”
I nod, glad he cannot see my expression as blood seems to drain from my cheeks, leaving them cold. “Yes.”
“Then this is how it has to happen.”
His words are as final as nails in a coffin. I feel a deep sense of having to accept them or what? It’s too late for anything else…
A guttural engine growls to a start somewhere not too far away, then another, and another. I allow myself to be escorted toward the deep sound.
It’s angry.
Gravelly.
What is it?
My pulse vibrates fearfully in my neck, the beating of my heart almost as loud as the engine I gradually approach. Guided by a gentle hand on my elbow, I force myself to trust—tremble and trust.
After a small, slow walk, the angry rumbling is beside me, carving into the sound of my heartbeat with thunderous demand. Whatever the vehicle, it seems to radiate heat and somehow shuffles the ground beneath my shoes. It makes me feel unsteady.
“May I help you into the sidecar of the motorbike?” the voice, which is clearly male, says, and my eyes widen despite the dark hood over my head.
“T-the motorbike?”
“Yes.” The man chuckles softly. “We don’t all have the luxury of a military tank.”
As I am assisted into the sidecar, a feeling of falling envelops me.
I've stepped off the edge of something, and I can't change my mind. Can I? Do I want to? Deep down, I feel an undeniable pull to do this. Is it to prove a point to my brother? To save... Someone.
Yourself.
The thought comes unbidden. I clutch the edge of the seat, bracing myself. My heart races. I wait. The engine roars to life, and with a jolt, we take off.