Hive

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE An Unlikely AllyHis question left me gaping and my stance wavered. The guard jerked his head towards me. “You can fight?”

I remained on point, storing energy in my core and ready to distribute it to my limbs should it prove necessary. The upward tilt of my head showed I considered the conclusion obvious. His body sagged against the door and he sighed, rubbing the backs of both hands across tired eyes shadowed by dark rings. “You said nothing throughout dinner, Melanis. But please speak to me now. Where is my Lord?”

Possibilities sped through my mind, a litany of lies I could mime to assure myself of his loyalty. The old Estefania had them to hand, ready to fling out into the air and save herself. The new Estefania dismissed them one at a time. The path-delineator pressed against my skin, reminding me of my shortened life and diminishing opportunities. Perhaps this moment would be my last, slain by a disgruntled Forlornn guard. Sighing, I relaxed my stance and moved towards a wide armchair. Its soft folds welcomed me in. Something clicked in my soul and I paused, hearing the slight inhale from my lips and stilling. With excitement building, I tried to speak but no words emerged. Yet the sensation of finality had gone and left hope in its place. Restoration may yet come before my life’s end.

The guard watched me, his gaze following my movements. With trepidation in my heart, I considered how I might deliver the bad news. I patted my breast bone and saw his brows furrow. Then I pressed an index finger over my lips. When I saw his eyes widen, I raised my hands out to my sides with the palms facing upward and shook my head. Realisation flooded his face and his shoulders sagged further. “You can’t speak,” he said. “Someone stole your voice.”

I nodded and winced, knowing the hopelessness radiating from him would soon turn to rage. Pointing to the bed and then to myself, I saw him understand I referred to my husband. His interest sparked and he shot questions like arrows, leaving his position by the door and drawing closer. “Where is he?” he demanded. “We searched for you for days in the far reaches of the realm. We returned and he retired for the night, dismissing me. I’ve heard tales of a messenger arriving with news of you. Prince Kuiti went to the keep and spoke to many on his way, but nobody saw him again. I searched the grounds myself. Nothing suggests he left the safety of the castle.” He waved his primary arm behind him, though I sensed he required mere seconds to return it to the hilt of his sword. Then his shoulders slumped. “Why am I asking you? You abandoned him like the Wasp Lord said and arrived back at the city in a raggedy state. How can you give me answers? This is our punishment for supporting Kuiti when the Wasps spoke against his father’s lax rule. We helped him overthrow the foolish old king and now we have no one.”

Placing my hands over my eyes, I sighed, again hearing the whoosh of breath leaving my lips. The guard’s fingers tapped my sleeve in a motion of impatience. I forced myself to drop my hands and face my destiny.

Drawing a finger across my throat, I mimed the sign for death and saw him recoil as though I’d struck him. His eyes widened to dark pits and he leapt back, his left hand reaching for his sword as I knew it would. “How?” he growled. “It’s not possible.” Exhaustion filtered through my muscles and sinews, setting up a dance of pain and making me wish the moment over. My mind provided images which forced me back to the round keep and Galveston’s cruelty. I avoided the inner vision of Kuiti’s blank eyes, but my mind betrayed me with horror regardless, running the scene of Limah’s torture on a loop of misery.

“Don’t cry.” His voice brought me back to the dark marital suite of my dead husband and compassion met me in the guard’s face. He appeared different, exhaustion replaced by a new alertness of mind. His hand squeezed my shoulder and I studied his concerned expression through a haze, my watering eyes betraying my silent agony. I cared for Limah. I blamed myself for Kuiti. Both men tied me to the torture chamber and to vengeance.

Giving an ugly sniff, I sat up and scrubbed my face with my palms. The guard rose and gave me space, misunderstanding my sorrow. “I loved him too,” he said, his voice laden with sadness. “He was my prince and I swore allegiance to him in my sixteenth summer.” Blowing out a loud sigh, he turned away and rested his forehead against the tall bedpost. The solid frame hardly moved, but the surrounding curtains swayed at his touch. I tried to imagine him at sixteen, fresh faced and handsome as he threw his life away to serve a foolish prince. The parallel with Limah contained a painful bite. My counselor made the same rash choice to serve a petty monarch.

The guard turned back and touched his chest. The serving fork showed as a long line beneath his collar bone. “I swore allegiance to you under duress,” he whispered. “But I will swear it again now.” Jerky movements brought him back across the room and he dropped to one knee, his dark head lowered and silken curls tumbling into his face.

I reached out a hand and laid it over his crown, unwilling to accept another sacrifice. When he looked up, I shook my head. “No,” I mouthed. “I don’t deserve it.”

Sorrow infused his brown eyes and he looked lost. I saw the remains of unguarded youthfulness for a split second and placed him at twenty summers. His dark eyelashes fluttered and his facial muscles moved through a series of creases from hope to devastation. My conscience pricked with what I’d done, but I intended to take no one else into death with me. My fingers traversed his head and slipped to his cheek, feeling the roughness of his beard against my palm. I cupped his chin in my hand and leaned closer, eager he shouldn’t misunderstand my meaning. “I give you freedom,” I mouthed, starting as the words emerged in a whisper.

A light went on in his eyes and I saw the flame of life flare in his irises. “Say it again,” he demanded. “Say it again.”

“I give you freedom.” No whisper this time, but a wavering, croaky voice. I bit my lip, inhaled and then repeated it. “I give you freedom. You’re free.” A woman’s voice emerged, strong and without girlish petulance. I gasped and clapped a hand across my mouth.

“The curse is lifted!” Delight danced in his brown eyes and the guard remained on his knees.

I swallowed and nodded. “Go. Your faithfulness to my husband is rewarded.”

The guard stood and turned, shaking his head from side to side. I imagined he focussed on endless possibilities for his new life and watched as he spun back towards me. No trace of his former jadedness remained in an open face which looked unlined and youthful. His cowed posture straightened and he towered above me. “Thank you,” he said, his tone respectful and his eyes bright. He waved a hand at the locked door. “Tomorrow might bring somewhere to go but today, there is nowhere. I’ll stay and avenge my master’s death.” He inclined his head towards me. “I’m guessing that’s why you’re here.”