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And she called to the surrounding trees, and while their voices had turned into moans of pain, they still answered her. The wood screeched, and the branches swept toward them, swinging low as they took the fae by the head.
“What are you?” the fae with the sweet voice asked from the ground, her voice shaking and her pupils blown wide. She stared at Nava as if she were a demon, worse than the Zorren.
Nava’s energy dwindled again as the surrounding trees caught fire, and the damned poison running through her veins kept fighting the healing potion—and even her own magic.
She reached for her bond, trying to locate Arkimedes, to sense how he was doing, but she couldn’t feel a thing.
The final two fae lunged at her but ground to a halt when a massive tree-like creature appeared in between them and Nava. She shouldn’t be surprised to see Aristaeus. He’d likely received her position during the split second she’d sensed him. The two Dark Ones screamed, but it was too late, for Aristaeus was furious.
The moss and bark on his body were burned. He’d probably been fighting the Zorren and trying to find her at the same time.
For the first time since Nava had learned she was a Beekeeper, she couldn’t hear him speak in her mind. But he came to her either way, his claws and sharp teeth tearing at the fae with such ferocity that Nava had to look away.
It wasn’t as if she cared for their lives when they had tried to kill her only minutes ago. Yet her heart ached that even while demons invaded their kingdom mere feet away, they had come for her instead of fighting for their people.
When Aristaeus approached Nava, his gaze searched her face and narrowed in on her limp arm.
“I can’t hear you,” she said, knowing he must be trying to speak. “The poison of the knife has dulled my connection to both you and Ark.”
And if she were honest with herself, she wasn’t even sure how she was still standing upright. She began to trudge to the clearing with a wobble to her steps. Arkimedes was just across the way.
“I need to get back to him,” she said, knowing Ari would understand who she meant. And perhaps it was actually a blessing not to hear his sarcastic quip about how unfit to fight the Zorren she was in her current state. Although, since her mind filled in the blank void so easily, perhaps it wasn’t.
After a second, he nodded. Then he walked to her and pointed to a spot right across the clearing, where the forest lay nearly untouched by the surrounding chaos.
The yellow lines of energy were thicker, more vibrant, showing her a path to where she could regain some of her power. The two of them moved, fluid like water, and the deeper they went into the forest, the more like herself she felt. A caress of their bond touched her mind.
“Turn to the right here, dearest.” Aristaeus’s voice startled her. He ran a few meters ahead, removing obstacles from her path. Her panic grew when she couldn’t feel Arkimedes.
She’d transferred too far from him. It was idiotic to separate. Perhaps she should have let him try to save her. They might be in better shape now.
What if he was badly hurt? What if he was— No, she couldn’t think of that. He was alive, and they were going to be fine.
The burnt tree the queen had died on became visible in between immense tree trunks. Behind it, a fire glowed. She couldn’t make out how well the guards were holding up against the Zorren through the thick layer of smoke.
Aristaeus and her bees swarmed around them, right before a black shape jumped out in front of them. A demon with clanking mandibles swung one of its claws at her, and Nava barely got out of the way. Transferring a few meters away, she studied the dark shadow of the forest.
“Go to our protector. I’ve got this one,” Aristaeus commanded.
42
ARKIMEDES
Aristaeus was gone, presumedly to find Nava somewhere in the clearing. But it was hard to focus on killing Leir with the stolen artifact, when demons popped out of portals all around him.
Panic, anger, and determination settled within Arkimedes as he turned toward the emissary once again. Leir was cradling his missing limb, a new one already growing from the stump of his arm, forming a new palm and fingers.
Arkimedes’s aura bloomed thicker, although the pain from holding the artifact didn’t subside, he tightened his grip around the sword’s handle. He let everything around him fall silent and leaped forward, cutting through the two-feet gap between them, and speared Leir in between the ribs.
His blade met resistance, the emissary’s body attempting to heal and push the magical weapon away. But it was no use. Its power was too great, and it sucked the life out of everything it touched. One of Leir’s hands coiled around Arkimedes’s throat, squeezing hard.
Past the slope of his shoulder and mangled wing, Arkimedes saw the horrid shape of his mother’s ghost materialize, right in front of the tree where she’d met her end. The sockets of her eyes were wet with tears, and flames lapped the ripped edges of her dress as it flowed in the air.
Arkimedes’s magic stuttered, drained by the artifact and Leir’s hold. He pushed further, leaning his full body weight into the weapon, and the sharp point sank in a few more inches. A gurgling sound poured from his uncle’s throat and their eyes met, frozen in time as warm liquid stained his fingers.
Leir’s hand loosened just as an eerie moan escaped from his mother’s lips. Then he crumpled to the ground, taking Arkimedes with him.
Arkimedes couldn’t hear the warring demons and Dark Ones behind them. Nor did he know where the king had gone.
