“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I’m allowed to give.”
“Allowed by who?”
But Peeble had vanished, leaving me alone with my spreading marks and the sound of the crew preparing for threats I couldn’t imagine. Tomorrow, I’d apparently fly on something terrifying through a realm that wanted to eat me, heading toward a place called the Hollow to find answers I probably didn’t want.
But tonight, I was just a woman in borrowed clothes that grew to fit me, in a fantasy tent, in a realm where nothing made sense except the certainty that tomorrow would be worse.
“I miss normal,” I said to no one.
Outside, something that wasn’t quite wind but wasn’t quite not-wind rustled through the camp, carrying the scent of flowers that shouldn’t existand the promise of dangers I couldn’t yet imagine.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about how the marks on my skin pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, or how I could sense Kaelren’s presence even through the tent walls—a cold fury wrapped around pain that never stopped.
Tomorrow would definitely be worse.
But at least I wouldn’t be naked when it happened.
5
Elle
“Absolutely not.”
I stood at the edge of the clearing, staring at twenty giant bees that stared back with compound eyes the size of dinner plates. They were massive—horse-sized—with wings that created wind gusts that flattened the grass with each lazy movement. Their fur looked soft but substantial, black and yellow stripes gleaming in the strange light of the Thornwood.
“It’s perfectly safe,” Bryx said, already approaching the largest bee, which had patches of electric blue among its black and yellow stripes. “Kevin here has only dropped two riders in the last year.”
“Kevin?” I looked at the monstrous insect. “Your giant death bee is named Kevin?”
“All the best bees are named Kevin,” Bryx said solemnly, patting the bee’s fur with obvious affection.
“That makes no sense,” Nimor said, materializing more fully from the morning mist. “You’ve only ever had one bee.”
“Exactly. And he’s the best. Therefore, all the best bees are named Kevin. Logic.”
“That’s not how logic works,” Eltrien said mildly.
Kevin buzzed, a sound like a freight train made of vibration, and Bryx laughed. “See? Kevin agrees with me.”
“The death bee is named Kevin,” I repeated, because apparently my brainwas stuck on this point.
The morning had come too quickly. One moment I was fitfully sleeping, dreaming of roses with teeth and mirrors that led nowhere, and the next Vashael was shaking me awake with her pollen-covered hands, telling me it was time to fly.
The clothes they’d given me had adjusted overnight, fitting even better, like they’d been learning my body while I slept. Which was creepy, but less creepy than being naked because the realm ate my jeans, so I was calling it a win.
“You’ll ride with me,” Kaelren said, approaching one of the mid-sized bees. This one was darker than the others, with silver markings that reminded me of his carved marks.
“Why do I have to ride with you?”
“Because you’ll fall off otherwise.”
“Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”
“Would you prefer false encouragement?”
“I’d prefer not riding a giant insect through the sky, but apparently that’s not an option.”
