61. Willow
Chapter 61
Willow
V aren stares at me, unblinking. Our lips still almost touch, but his words have already fled my mind.
“Did you say something, Varen?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes seem blank as if no one’s home. Fear wraps itself around my heart and squeezes. I don’t like this look.
“Varen, honey?” I gently touch his face. In an instant, the madness flashes in his eyes like a festering wound.
I try to keep my expression passive despite the urge to scream at the injustice of this affliction torturing him. His hands, which moments ago touched me lovingly, now grip my shoulders painfully.
“False queen,” he snarls in my face.
Tears sting my eyes. “Do you mean me?”
He shakes his head, frustrated—at him or me, I’m not sure.
“The honeycombs are still broken,” he says. “They need to be fixed.”
“But you all have your memories.”
“They’re broken!”
“I know,” I tell him softly. “We’ll fix them, don’t worry.”
“No, you don’t understand!” His voice rises in pitch as he shoves me, eyes wild with panic. “If we don’t fix them, there is no honey!” His voice takes on an eerie quality. “Without honey, the colony starves. Worker bees die within weeks, and the entire hive collapses. It’s a slow, agonizing death for all.”
“But I thought Styx gave you bee bread.”
His hands claw at me, but he’s not listening.
“Yellow-jackets.” He’s rambling again, the monotone persisting. “They invade weakened hives. They slip in unnoticed, mimicking the scent of the colony. When the bees realize the intruders’ true nature, it’s too late. The yellow jackets slaughter them, steal their honey, and leave nothing but destruction in their wake.”
I don’t know what to do. My feet are frozen to the floor, my mind a blank canvas.
“I have to go,” I mumble stupidly.
Something snaps inside him, and he shouts, “The queen’s scent attracts drones for mating, but it can also lure in predators. Wasps, hornets, even rival colonies.” His tone grows almost angry and accusing, making my emotions well up until I’m sobbing. “The yellow jacket sting is more potent, their hunger insatiable. They will consume everything in their path, leaving nothing but hollow shells behind.”
“Varen, you’re hurting me.”
“First, they send scouts,” he barks in my face. “Then they attack in force, overwhelming the guards at the hive’s entrance.”
“Ren, hush.” Bodin is there, gently prying Varen’s clawed fingers from my bruised shoulders. But Varen won’t let go.
He growls and snarls at Bodin, then comes back to me. “They decapitate the bees with their powerful mandibles.”
I can’t see through my tears now.
He gives my face a withering look and snipes, “A strong queen’s scent might repel invaders, but a weak or corrupted?—”
Emrys arrives and covers Varen’s mouth, muffling his words. “Enough with your incessant ramblings. Can’t you see you’re frightening her?”
Varen bites him. Scratches Bodin. It shocks them enough to weaken their hold. Varen lunges at me, once again shoving me against the wall.
His manic eyes bore into mine, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “And the worst part? They have pheromones, too. They leave a trail leading their entire nest to the weakened hive. It becomes a massacre, a complete and utter destruction of everything the bees have built.”
The fight leaves him. He has nothing left but sadness when they pluck him from me and drag him out of the dining room. I slump against the wall, my mind reeling. How much of that was relevant? How much was madness?
Styx finds me first. I’m a trembling mess, leaning against the wall for support, tears streaming down my face. My body is a mix of feverish hormones and dismay. Sitting on Varen’s lap moments ago felt comforting, safe, and even alluring. Those sensations have now been corrupted, twisted into a sickening helplessness and fear.
Styx, usually so quick with barbed words, asks gently, “Are you okay?”
Those three little words hold the power to open floodgates. My emotions break free. I launch into his arms, clutching him like he might float away on a dandelion drift.
His arms circle around, holding me as tightly as I do him. He says nothing, but I feel it in his firm touch. He feels for me even if he can’t act like it. We will be okay. We have to be.
“Willow.” Legion’s voice cuts through, insistent yet respectful. “If you don’t leave now, it will be too late.”
I pull back from Styx, dashing tears away with my hand. Nodding, I manage, “I’m coming.”
Rory’s dagger is at my feet, the wrapping torn. Max’s gift is there too. I pick them up and follow them out. I have to bury the doubt worming its way into me. My friends can’t see this weakness. I must be strong to show our enemies not to mess with us. So I use the cool castle air to anchor me. It gives me the strength to suppress any rogue attempts of fever trying to rise up.
By the time I reach the foyer, I’ve composed myself enough to dismiss my blotchy face as an aftereffect of my biology. My womb, however, is clenching in tight cramps. It’s as though all my doubt, fear, and worry have collected there and knotted. I give Geraldine a trembling smile and hand her the gift. I hand Max his.
“These might come in handy,” I explain.
“Open them on the way,” Legion says gruffly.
Cricket and Finch give me quick hugs and wishes of good luck. Peggy holds me tight, using her strong arms to trap me as she whispers, “Do it for Bob.”
“You don’t have to go?” I ask, hesitant.
She glances at Legion and replies, “He fixed it, so I don’t.”
Then we’re off, walking at a breakneck pace out of Shadowfall Keep and back into the Nexus. The sky is already purple. The wind is harsh. Sunrise is minutes away.
We’re in the woods when Geraldine opens her gift and finds Rory’s dagger. She turns to me, her voice thick with emotion. “You stupid cow, you were supposed to keep this!”
“It’s yours,” I tell her. “At least for this trial. Whether or not the steel remains afterward is up to the Guardians.”
“But it means so much to you,” she whispers, her eyes glimmering.
I take her hand and squeeze it tight. “You mean more to me.”
Legion and Styx stride ahead. I guess Bodin and Emrys will catch up once they settle Varen.
“Open your gift, Max,” I tell him. “I think you’ll like it.”
He’s too nervous to reply, his hands shaking as he unwraps the package to reveal the thin gloves I took from Titania’s temple.
Max gives me a dubious look. “They look a little girly, no offense.”
I laugh. “Maybe, but they won’t act very ladylike once you put them on. Trust me.”
Something in the magic tells me they’re for protecting the weak.
“Do I put them on now?” he asks.
“Wait until we start.”
The curved walls of the fort come into view between the trees. The sounds of the crowd fill the air, cheering between music designed to make hearts beat faster. Tension knots in my stomach—or maybe it’s the cramps.
“We’re going to be fine, guys,” I tell them, tugging at my collar. “Believe it or not, we have prepared.”
Legion gives me a look as we arrive at an arched entrance and explains loud enough for my friends to hear, “You’ll be signed in and kitted out with supplies. Remember, it is an exhibition. The Folk enjoys extravagance. It’s not just winning. It’s performing. Don’t hold back.”
“We should still destroy the cunt,” Styx grumbles, meaning Puck, I guess. His eyes narrow on other stragglers running into the fort.
“It won’t make a difference,” Legion returns.
A raven caws up ahead in the branches. Styx flickers and then disappears. Legion’s jaw clenches. He checks around to see if anyone notices, but only a few people ahead are nearby.
“Why won’t it make a difference?” I ask.
He gives me a grim look. “Puck has used the entire temple-load of wisps to fortify the trials so the events will continue no matter what happens to him. Usually, this failsafe is a collective effort from the Shining Host while Titania slumbers. Once you begin, you cannot stop until the last trial is complete, or dusk arrives and survivors are transported back here.”
“Can’t stop—like when they forced my feet to keep walking?”
He frowns. “I don’t believe your feet will be compelled now, but something else will ensure the timeframe.”
“Like a ticking timebomb,” Max mutters.
A shiver runs across my arms, lifting the hairs.
“One last thing,” Legion says, pulling me aside urgently. He stares at Max and Geraldine until they head through the arch, giving us a moment. Then he retrieves something from his pocket—a pink skull charm. “To block your pheromones. It’s all I could come up with at the last minute.”
He attaches it to my chain. I cover it with my hand and activate the magic. While I don’t sense a difference, the tightness in his posture eases a little. He inhales and nods. “Good enough.”
“Thank you.”
His hand lifts to my face, eyes searching mine. “The Dreamscape and Nightmare trials will be held here in the fort, but the Subterranean infiltration will be captured on resonance stones pinned on your bodies. Nothing you do or say will be private. Remember that. Even the silencing charms we gave you won’t block the resonance stones. But it is also for this reason that we believe the trials will progress as they always have.” His tone goes quieter. “This is not a massacre. This is entertainment.”
Not a massacre. Then why did Varen mention one?