Elves Invasion

6

“Your rooms are on the other side,” Windyard told them. A worried frown creased his forehead as he registered the listless expressions around him. “Is this arrangement not to your liking? If you don’t find the rooms suitable, just let me know what you require.”

“They’re lovely. We’ve been traveling for a long time,” Mia said in explanation. “And we’ve lost . . . a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Windyard replied, his concern deepening. “I’m sure you need your rest. What you’ve done—just getting here—it’s amazing.”

Mia’s head filled with the mountains they’d climbed, the rivers they’d crossed, and the lives that she had lost along the way. She smiled at Windyard uncomfortably and went out onto the balcony as her coven broke away from one another silently and went off to be by themselves. Mia took a deep breath. A wisteria vine framed the wrought-iron casement and spilled over the railing like lavender locks of hair tumbling down a woman’s shoulder.

She felt Windyard join her on the veranda. “I mean it,” he said softly. “What you’ve accomplished is nothing short of a miracle. Those you’ve lost would be proud to see that at least you made it.”

Mia didn’t turn to look at him. She thought of Tristan’s body lying somewhere in a burnt-out field, probably already rotting in the sun, and wanted to say that pride had nothing to do with it. I did that, she thought.

Mia trained her dry, staring eyes on the city that rolled out in front of her. Like a patchwork quilt, interlocking blocks of color were saved from looking too busy by the orderliness of the pattern, and beyond the bright blanket that was Bower City, Mia saw a ribbon of sparkling blue.

“The ocean,” she whispered.

“I can take you there if you’d like,” he offered carefully.

Mia kept her attention on the view, neither accepting nor declining his offer. “Are those ships?” she asked, squinting into the distance.

“Yes.”

Mia turned to face him. “From where?”

“All over,” he said, shrugging. He suddenly understood. “The east is cut off from the rest of the world because of the Woven plague. No other countries will risk contamination through contact with you, but there’s no chance of that with Bower City.” His brow creased with a thought. “There are restrictions, of course, and immigration is carefully watched, but we trade with the rest of the world.”

“Carefully watched by who?” Mia could feel heat rising to her cheeks. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to scream.

“The Hive,” he said. “The Hive watches over everything in Bower City.” Windyard’s worried frown was back. “I should warn you to watch you temper. They react strongly to anger.”

Mia looked down at the purple blossoms surrounding her. The bees buzzing in and out of them began turning their attention from the flowers to Mia. More came. Windyard didn’t notice, but one had landed on his sleeve. Mia pointed at it.

“Careful,” she warned.

Windyard didn’t even look. “You don’t have to fear being stung accidentally. As long as you don’t attack them, they’ll leave you alone. But you must try and maintain a calm demeanor here in Bower City.”

Mia moved her elbows away from the wisteria. “And if you step on one?”

“They’re smarter than that,” he assured her. “I’ve lived here my whole life and they’ve never stung me.”

Mia relaxed a little, and then considered that maybe she shouldn’t. Watching the Worker go back to picking her way through the petals was not reassuring. They were always there. Always watching. No matter how much she wanted to find a room, lock the door, and start crying and throwing things at the wall, she couldn’t. She had to remain “calm.”

For all the fresh air, this place is more suffocating than the oubliette, she said in mindspeak to Lillian.

When she looked up again, Mia noticed that Windyard was standing very close to her. He seemed to notice it, too, and jerked away from her, embarrassed.

“Well, I’m sure you’re tired,” he said, taking his leave. “Would you like me to send up some food now?”

“Yes. Please,” Mia said, following him back inside. “And thank you, Windyard.”

He opened the door and paused before going through it. When he looked back at Mia he seemed surprised. “It was my pleasure,” he said, and then left.

Mia stayed at the closed door, replaying the conversation in her head.

“Thinking of adding him to your collection?” Tristan asked. His hair was still wet from a shower and he was dressed in one of the silk tunics the men here wore, the laces at his wrists still undone. He looked furious.

“No! I was—he was—” Mia stammered. “It’s not my fault.”

“Forget it,” he said, turning away in a huff and going back to his room.

“And I don’t have a collection!” Mia called after him.

She heard him shout, “I said forget it!” from deep within the other apartment and sighed.

Caleb came through the adjoining doors, cringing at Tristan’s wake. “That could have gone better,” he said.

“It’s not my fault,” Mia repeated.

“It’s a weird witch-mechanic thing. I know that,” Caleb replied. “Tristan does, too. He’s just angry that the line to you got longer.”

“There’s no line,” Mia argued, but Caleb continued as if he didn’t hear her.

“Don’t worry about Tristan. He’s just mad at you because it’s a convenient distraction. It’s easier to be angry at you than to be sad about, well, everything.”

“Not here it isn’t,” Mia said, noticing that more Workers were coming in through the window. She pointed it out to Caleb and told him how the Hive had reacted when she’d started to feel anger.

They can feel our emotions? Caleb looked disturbed.

I doubt that, but they can certainly sense them somehow, she replied. And they don’t allow anger. Tristan’s blocking me. Tell him to calm down and show him why.

Caleb took a moment to converse with Tristan in mindspeak, and then turned back to her. I really hate this place.

Get ready to hate it some more.

Mia brought Caleb out onto the balcony and showed him the ships in the harbor. She told him they were from all around world and watched as he stared at them, his breath stalled in his chest and his jaw lax with surprise. His eyes flew out over the water as he imagined other countries, other continents—all of them Woven-free.

“How does Bower City keep the Woven from contaminating other countries?” he asked. “Because all you need is one to climb inside a crate that gets loaded on a ship—”