Chapter 133: Aella’s Journey
The simple red robes were far too much like a dress for Aella’s comfort. The fact that she had to be unarmed, among people who could all summon fire from nothing, save her family, was almost too much. But then, on top of that, they were locked in a room no more than twenty five paces wide and deep. With infants. Hungry, crying, tired infants. And children who had been fed too many sweets.
Aella was starting to believe that Nereida’s family hated her. This was hell, she had actually drowned on the way back to the palace while comforting the former traitor, and she had to suffer this for all eternity. Yes, the cushions were soft, but there was no furniture besides the cushions on the floor. The carpet was soft, but was so, so flammable. What if one of the Salamanders lost their temper? They were famous for having low control over their temper, and she’d already seen what that loss of control could look like. Aella wished she had taken advantage of the free-flowing alcohol, but she had made the mistake of eating one of the spicy snacks that had been passed around, and after two bites her tongue had been on fire. She wanted to leave this hunk of rock so very much. But without the Tooth, they were stuck.
She had to believe that the Tooth was coming back for them. With support from her Queen, if she was very, very lucky. She paced the room, wishing for escape, but the door out was locked. Nereida watched her with a worried expression, but she did not get up. She was busy singing to Damara, the poor little mite was overtired and hungry, but feeding magic to her was going to be difficult without being seen. Aella wished that the Queen Dowager could have taken Damara, since she knew the secret now too. But the old woman was seated in her own vigil, praying at an altar for her husband’s soul to bless the new King, and she was not allowed to have anyone with her. She was the old way, and could not be here for the new. That was rubbish, as far as Aella was concerned. Her son was taking the throne, and they were no less family because his father had died.
Dragons’ sweaty ballsacks she hated this place.
She did not hate her wife or her children. The boys, exhausted, were curled up and sleeping in a corner. Egaz’s head was on his brother’s lap, and Alejo was leaning against the wall. The constant noise on the ship meant the lucky children had learned to fall asleep in any situation. The other nobleborn children were whining to their parents about being too tired, about being hungry, about wanting to go home to their room. It was noisy and part of Aella wanted to peep her whistle at them just to see if they stopped their incessant complaints. But her whistle was around Epelda’s neck, aboard the Tooth. So she had to endure.
Basiano approached her, carrying his siren daughter. The little one had seen fit to spit her milk up over the expensive white robe that he wore. Aella tried to hide her amusement, but Basiano scowled at her.
“It’s not funny,” he grumbled.
“Kinda is,” she replied. “Iria has no fashion sense.”
“Will you hold her?” he asked, glancing back at his gaggle of wives. They were all swarmed with children, except Masilee who stood with her back to the corner, rubbing her stomach, whilst staying aloof and glowering. None of the children seemed inclined to approach her. “She’s due for a feed soon, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how I will feed her magic in this crowded place.”
“Truth is food for the soul.” The words came from Aella’s mouth, but they were not hers. The Moon was being a busybody again. Basiano scowled at her, but the effect was somewhat lessened by the spit-up on his shoulder.
“Does she approve of this?” he asked, lifting his hands to indicate the room, himself. Subtle, the man was not.
“She’s not shown me anything about tonight,” Aella replied truthfully. “Nor have I asked.” She shrugged, and took the baby from him. Iria made a face at her, but Aella had no idea how to interpret the infant’s scrunched face and open mouth. She looked up at Basiano, but felt a tingling warmth along her arms. She hastily shoved the infant back in his arms, knowing the child would “eat” the magic before she could see the vision. Damara had done it at least twice. She did not get a vision, but a strong feeling that shook her bones. “Get to the center of the room,” she hissed at Basiano. He blinked, startled, but moved back, taking the baby with him. The tingling grew stronger, a heat that was uncomfortable, someone’s magic. Aella let her instincts guide her. She remembered standing unobserved when the soldiers had arrived. The feeling of moonlight on her skin, a gentle breeze, a calm, perfect night. She called on that feeling again. “Be still!” she hissed, her tone full of fear. Even the children stopped their whining. The children curled into their mothers, Nereida moved to her boys.
Aella called the magic, all her magic, all her might. She did not beg the Moon for help, not yet, but she felt her Dragon’s presence as she called the magic, draping them in moonlight and hiding them from unfriendly eyes. The door was forced open in a burst of flames. One of the children cried out but an adult hushed them. Four armed Salamanders burst in, holding their flames in one hand and wicked looking serrated blades in their other hand.
“The siren-lovers aren’t here,” one of them spat. “They must have been tipped off!”
“We’d know if they did,” another said, looking around the apparently empty room. Aella felt a wave of nausea. She could not do this much longer. They needed to leave. But she felt another magic, sharp against her skin. She did not look back to see who it was. She knew Egaz’s magic now. It wove in with hers, and she felt the pressure on her chest lessen. “She said they’d be here!”
The temperature in the room plummeted as Nereida wrestled with her anger. Someone had betrayed them. The would-be assassins felt the chill and closed ranks.
“Something ain’t right.” The first speaker looked around, his eyes passing over them. Aella decided to do something very foolish. She dropped one of her hands, and signed to her youngest son.
“Mind rip.” She hoped he understood what she meant by her words. The magic entwined with hers lessened and then disappeared. Aella grunted under the weight of her own magic. She felt Egaz’s trickling magic. The one who spoke the most stiffened as if he, too, sensed something was wrong, before his voice rang out with a single thought. “My Queen!” He screamed and let loose his fire onto the carpet.
The carpet they were all standing on.
Aella dropped her spell, running toward the would-be assassins. She had no plan, but she knew she needed to buy time for the others. She swung her fist at the first assassin, aiming for his gut. He was not expecting someone to punch him, and he stumbled back, grunting. She heard Nereida’s voice lifting in song, angry and vengeful. One of the would-be assassins threw his blade past Aella, likely aiming for Nereida. Aella heard her wife gasp and hit the ground. She did not turn, could not afford the distraction. Fire flew past her, her allies unleashing their might. Aeljo, awake now and frightened, was singing as well, a child’s song with one verse that he sang over and over, his voice high and slightly off key.
“Two!” screamed one. “Kill her boys! All sirens must die!”
Aella was able to knee her opponent in his jewels, and he went down hard. She wrested the serrated blade from him as he gasped. She danced back, avoiding a blade and a fireball. She let her magic and her instincts take over, and a strange sensation of watching herself washed over her. She knew when to serve left or right, knew when an ally was going to miss their attack and leave her in the crossfire. The Grand Admiral, Daughter of the Moon, would not be touched by blade or fire tonight. The Moon Dragon’s energy buzzed beneath her skin, never quite taking over, but guiding, urging. She called to Nereida to duck and her wife did, dropping to the ground as a knife flew toward her. A wave of rage washed over her as she realized Damara was not far from the knife.
“Kill him,” the Moon sang from inside Aella’s mind. “He’d hurt our love, kill our child.”
She slipped into the fray again, aware of her allies’ fires, and found the assassin with the throwing knives. One barely missed her as she turned to the side at the last possible moment. She stabbed him in the gut and then slit his throat. The mood changed, and the assassins seemed to realize they were outmatched. A familiar voice rose above the roaring of fire and the streaming of terrified children. Masilee’s voice.
“Do what you came here to do and kill them!” Her voice was shrill and angry. A beat passed, and Masilee screamed in rage and terror.
“That’s not me! It’s not! The moon-touched is doing something to me like she did to the King!” Her voice continued, even as she raged. “Sirens bring madness, they have to die!”
Aella left the traitor to the Salamanders. She moved in toward another assassin, this one fighting his way forward, his eyes settled on Nereida. Nereida, however, was too busy subduing her soon-to-be-ex inlaw. Masilee, like all the Salamander nobles, was powerful. The assassin saw the opening in Nereida’s defences, and Aella moved to stop him, but her body was too slow. This fight had dragged on too long, and she was already tired. The knife left his hand before she was able to slash at him, the serrated blade tearing his flesh painfully. He howled and dropped, clearing Aella’s view to her wife. Camina stood before Nereida, shielding her with her body. The girl dropped heavily, and Aella heard Basiano scream with grief and rage. Nereida was already singing one of her healing songs, Alejo kneeling beside her and joining in the song. Basiano’s fire changed from red to white, and Aella dropped to the ground as he unleashed his magic. She had forgotten, momentarily, that he had been changed by the Stars Dragon, that he had a Dragon inside him for months. The power of his fire stole her breath, and even the Moon Dragon felt far away. The air boiled and popped above her, but she was not burned in his fury despite it all.
The unfortunate would-be assassins were not so fortunate. They died quickly, screams cut short as the air inside their lungs boiled away. The one beside Aella had tried to run, but instead burned alive, so fast that she barely had time to register the smell before that, too, was reduced to ash.
No one moved or spoke except Nereida and Alejo, who sang in unison.
“They need water,” Aella said to Caleb. “Where’s the nearest water?”
“The fountain outside.” He looked at his husband, who nodded and scooped up the critically injured princess. He ran outside, the two sirens following him. Egaz did not follow his mother but went to his Uncle’s side. The little boy reached up and took the hand of the wrathful King.
“Uncle Basi?” his voice trembled. No one else moved or dared to breathe wrong, even the infants. “I can make her talk.”
“Do it.” His voice was cold, ash on the wind. “You have my blessing, Egaz.” The little boy, too young to do this, stepped forward. He sang, his voice sweet as he sang a children’s song.
“Peekaboo, the Moon doth say. The Ocean gone to save the day. Shadows dance about your bed, while Stars dance round your little head.” The song was deeply disturbing now as Egaz’s sharp magic danced over her skin toward Basiano’s first wife. His little voice echoed strangely in the room.
“You always loved Nereida best! There was no room for us. For any of us! And now you bring sirens and murderers! You abandoned us for a year! I hate you!” Masilee thrashed about, covering her mouth with her hands, but her voice continued until the echoes of Egaz’s song died. The little boy slumped to the ground, exhausted, and Aella ran to him, scooping him up in her arms.
“Mom,” he muttered, cuddling into her and sobbing. “Sorry mom!”
Basiano stalked toward his wife, his fist clenched as he towered over her.
“If my daughter dies, so do you,” he said, his voice flat. “I will let you live long enough to deliver your baby, but you will die without holding it. Ango! Caleb! Lock her away. I never want to see her again.”
“Basiano no, please, I love you!” Masilee shrieked, falling at his feet and sobbing. “I love you!”
“I loved you. You were my first love. But I will never lay eyes on you again.” He turned his back to her as she sobbed. She reached for his feet, but he stepped away, crossing his arms as he stared resolutely toward the wall. Caleb and Ango dragged her out as she continued to scream that she loved Basiano, leaving Aella with the spouses and children. Babies sobbed, children held their parents and shook. Someone had wet themselves in the chaos .
“I’ll keep them safe,” Aella said softly, looking up at her pale, trembling brother-in-law. “Go.”
“If I break vigil….”
“Dragons saggy titties, go!” One of the wives gasped in horror at her language, clapping her hands over her young girl’s ears. Basiano, however, had the ghost of a smile.
“Aye, Admiral.” And he rushed away, stepping on the ash that had been of one of the assassins. Aella sat on the floor, exhausted. She hoped that Nereida would be enough.