It wasn’t until the back of her hand brushed his cheek that Moon realized he had taken two steps toward her, that he was within her reach. Her claws moved through his hair, the touch too light to scratch, and she cupped the back of his head, drawing him closer.
Moon looked into her eyes, heavy-lidded, sea-blue, and fathoms-deep, drawing him in. Her scent was strong and musky, but there was a trace of bitterness under it, too faint for him to place. It brought him back to his senses abruptly, and he tried to pull away from her. But sudden heat warmed his body, the tension flowing out of his spine.
That she could keep them all from shifting meant she was connected to them somehow, through mind or heart or something else, and Moon should have realized that. Should have realized the connection could go both ways. For a moment it was as if he was part of every other Raksura in the room, and he leaned toward her.
Then, as if she had judged it for the exact moment she felt his resistance fade, she said, “This was the best you could do.”
Her tone was calm, the warm purr of her voice unchanged. Moon blinked, so caught in her spell that for a heartbeat he didn’t understand. The whole room seemed to take a startled breath.
In that same tone, she continued, “A solitary, with no bloodline.”
Understanding hit him like a sudden slap. He jerked backward, but her hold on him tightened, her claws digging into his skin. Moon twisted out of her grip, the claws opening cuts across the back of his neck, snagging in the collar of his shirt. He fell back a few steps, out of her reach, baring his teeth.
Her lip curled, showing her fangs, and her tail lashed; growls echoed from the assembled warriors perched on the ledges, as if she was the one who had been insulted.
Moon spun on his heel, hissing up at them, furious and humiliated and ready to fight everybody in the room. The growls stopped as the warriors stirred uneasily. Apparently nobody wanted to fight, at least not while they were all trapped in groundling form.
“I didn’t bring him for you,” Stone said, his voice dry and acid in the silence.
The words broke the spell. Moon took a sharp breath, trying to clear his head and make himself think. He couldn’t feel that pull toward Pearl anymore, that connection to the others. There and gone so briefly, it had still left an empty place in his chest, as if something had been torn out of him. It was pure cruelty to let him feel that, to draw him into that, just to rip him away.
Pearl paced, her tail still lashing, her mane rippling with agitation. Cold edged her voice as she told Stone, “Solitaries live the way they do for a reason.”
Stone watched her, unmoved and unimpressed. “He wasn’t a solitary by choice. I told you how I found him.”
“And you have only his word for that.” Pearl stopped, half turning to show Stone her profile, as if she was reluctant to confront him. “What did you have to give him to bring him here?”
That was another slap. Moon gritted his teeth, looking away. Everything he had taken from them—food, the clothes he was wearing, even Stone’s protection while he was poisoned—flashed through his head. He had accepted it all with the idea that he would act as one of their warriors; Pearl had to know that. She wanted to drive him away, and he knew why.
That Moon was here as a potential consort for Jade somehow gave the younger queen power, taking it away from Pearl. Moon hissed under his breath. If Pearl wanted to drive him out, she was going to have to try a lot harder than this.
As if called by his thought, another voice, sharp with irony, said, “I’ve left gifts. He’s taken none of them.” The warriors on the ledge parted abruptly for a light blue form, the only other Raksura in the room who hadn’t shifted to groundling. She stepped off the ledge and landed lightly on the paving. She was smaller than Pearl, the same height as the other warriors. The silver-gray pattern overlaying her scales was less complex than Pearl’s brilliant indigo, and the frilly spines of her mane weren’t as elaborate. Her jewelry was silver, rings, armbands, and bracelets, and a belt worn low above the hips with polished ovals of amethyst and opal. Moon had only caught two glimpses of her before, but this was clearly Jade.
She stalked forward, radiating barely contained irritation, her gaze on Pearl. “The things he accepted from the Arbora are only what they would give in hospitality to any visitor.” Her voice hardened into a snarl. “Try your claws on me, why don’t you.”
Pearl moved away from her, her lip curling in contempt. “You’re a child. You have no responsibility in this court and you’ve made no attempt to assume any.”
Jade’s laugh held little amusement. “You say that as if it’s what you want.”
Stone broke the moment. “That isn’t what we came here to discuss. The Arbora want to go to a new colony. Our lines haven’t flourished here, and you know it as well as the rest of us do. All the consorts of my line are dead, Rain is dead, and your last clutch didn’t survive to—”
Pearl rounded on him, hissing. “I don’t need you to remind me of that!”
Evenly, unaffected by her anger, Stone said, “Then what do you need?”
After a moment she stepped away from him, shaking her head. “We have too many Arbora and too few Aeriat. We can’t leave this place, not now.” Her hands curled into fists. “I’ve waited too long. I take the blame for that.”
Flower stepped forward and suddenly had the attention of the entire room. It gave Moon some insight into just how much power the mentors actually held. Among all the larger Arbora and the tall warriors, Flower should have been a slight, insignificant figure, but every Raksura here turned to listen. She said, “It’s not too late. There are ways around the lack of Aeriat. We don’t all have to go at once. We can make the journey in stages.”
Pearl hesitated, though Moon couldn’t tell if she was giving the suggestion serious thought or not. Then she paced away. “It’s too dangerous. We would die in stages.”
His voice tight with irony, Stone said, “We’re dying here, and that started before you let the Fell in.”
Pearl turned toward him, her mane flaring in challenge. “What do you want from me?”
“You know what I want.” Stone let the words hang in a fraught silence. When Pearl looked away, he said, “I’ll settle for your word that you’ll agree to move the court if I can get the means to transport the Arbora safely.”
Pearl laughed, more annoyed than amused. “Your plan is ridiculous,” she said, sounding exasperated. “I think your mind has finally turned.”
Stone smiled, showing his teeth. It was somehow a far more threatening gesture than it should have been, and a ripple of unease went through the ranks of warriors. But he only said, “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
Pearl watched him a moment more, then she turned her gaze to Moon, contempt in every line of her body. “I want your solitary gone from this court.”
Moon glared narrowly back at her and tried to shift, tried it with everything he had. He felt the change gather in his body, felt it burn in his chest, but he couldn’t push past whatever power Pearl still held over him. But when he said, “Then make me leave,” it came out in the deeper rasp of his shifted voice.
Pearl’s face twisted into a snarl. “Get out of my sight!”
That he was willing to do. Moon snarled and turned for the door, barely noticing as the Arbora scattered out of his way. He strode down the passage to the landing, every step further away from Pearl’s presence a relief. The others came out behind him, and he pounded down the stairs until he felt the pressure in his chest ease and knew he could shift again.
He left the stairs at the next landing, and headed blindly down a corridor until he found an opening to the outside. He shifted and jumped out, meaning to glide down to the foot of the pyramid. His head still swam from the effort of trying to shift against Pearl’s restraint, his heart pounded with rage.
Distracted, he sensed something above him and snapped into a sideways roll. A dark green warrior shot past him, his stooping dive turning into an awkward tumble. Moon felt his lips pull back from his fangs in a silent snarl. They weren’t high enough in the air to play this game.
He turned back toward the pyramid and landed on a broad ledge. Hissing angrily, the warrior banked around and tried to angle in at him, his wings beating hard.
Idiot,
Moon thought.
Moon leapt up, caught the warrior’s ankle and yanked him out of the air. The hissing turned into an outraged yowl, cut off abruptly as Moon swung him against the upper ledge. The warrior snapped his wings in to protect them and tried to dig his claws into the stone to scrabble away. Moon pulled him down, caught him by the throat, and pinned him to the wall. The warrior bared his fangs; he could have sunk his claws into Moon’s wrists, or lifted a foot and tried to disembowel him. Moon should have torn his throat out.
Instead, he followed an instinct he didn’t know he had, and drew himself up, flared his spines out, and leaned in. The warrior’s eyes went narrow as he tried to avoid Moon’s gaze. Then his spines, crushed against the stone, began to wilt as the furious resistance leaked out of his body. Knowing his point was made, Moon said softly, “Don’t do that again.”
The warrior jerked his head in response. Moon released his throat and stepped back. He half-expected to be tackled off the ledge and for it all to start over again, but instead the warrior shifted to groundling. He was a lanky boy, turns younger than Moon, with a shock of red hair, dark copper skin, and a deeply embarrassed expression.
Several warriors circled the air above them, and Moon was sure two of them were River and Drift. No one else dove for him. Moon turned and leapt off the ledge again.
He glided down toward the teachers’ court. As he landed on the soft grass, he startled a flock of tiny flying lizards. They burst into alarmed retreat in a flurry of gold and violet wings.
Moon shifted back to groundling, and there he stopped, leaning one hand against the gritty, moss-covered stone of a pillar. He wanted to get out of this place. He wanted to fly in the cool air or float in the river, but he didn’t want anyone to think for one heartbeat that he had run away.
At least there’s no question of fitting in anymore,
he told himself bitterly. That bird had flown a long time ago.
Stone’s great dark form landed in the center of the court, crushing some flowering bushes and almost flattening a small tree. He set Flower on her feet and then shifted to groundling.
“That went well,” Flower said dryly, as they started toward Moon. She winced. “Moon, you’re still bleeding.”
“Let me see.” Stone reached for him. Moon jerked away with a half-voiced snarl. Stone cuffed him in the head so hard Moon stumbled into the pillar. “Stop that. And don’t shift,” Stone snapped.
Moon subsided, unwillingly, remembering that he really didn’t want to fight Stone. Flower hurried away, disappearing through the archway into the common room. Stone took Moon’s shoulder and turned him around, pushing his head down to look at the cuts.
“Ow,” Moon muttered.
“You shut up. Flower—”
“Here.” Flower was back, handing Stone a wet cloth that smelled of something earthy.
Stone pressed it to the back of Moon’s neck. Whatever was on it stung at first, then cooled the cuts. Stone said, quietly, “Pearl isn’t... It’s not supposed to be that way.”
Moon set his jaw. “You said she was sick, not...” So bitterly angry that she was blind to everything. “What’s wrong with her?”
“We don’t know.” Flower leaned on the pillar, looking up at him, a sad twist to her mouth. Other Arbora had reached the court, gathering in the common room and talking in soft, worried voices. “It could be disease, or just all the loss. Her last two queens’ clutches, the ones that should have given Jade consorts and sister queens, were stillborn. Then Rain died. He was the last of the consorts of her generation.”
“It isn’t always this bad.” Stone sounded weary. “She was better yesterday.” To Flower, he said, “We need to make plans. Send someone to get the maps.”
“Petal already has.” Flower tugged on Stone’s arm. “That should be enough. The grenilvine works quickly.”
Stone pulled the cloth away and stepped back. Moon turned around, feeling the back of his neck, startled to find scabs instead of open cuts. Flower took the blood-stained cloth away from Stone and stood on her tiptoes to look at the wound. She nodded to herself, patted Moon on the arm, and walked back inside.
Stone watched him, giving nothing away. “Are you staying?”
Moon had regained enough self-control not to snarl the answer. “I said I would.”
Stone’s smile was a thin line. “Yes, you did.” He turned away, and Moon followed him into the common room.
He caught many sideways glances, worried, uncomfortable, unreadable. Petal, Rill, and several others pulled cushions and mats out of the way, clearing a large space on the floor. More Arbora came in; Moon recognized Knell, the leader of the soldiers, and Bone and some of the other hunters. Balm and several other warriors followed them in; they looked uneasy, but no one objected to their presence.
Then Chime and Bell carried in a big, rolled-up hide, nearly twelve paces long. They put it down on the floor and unrolled it, pulling the edges to spread it out.
Moon stepped closer, unwillingly interested. It was a map, carefully drawn in black, blue, green, and red inks on the soft surface of the hide. Everything was drawn in broad strokes, with mountains, rivers, and coastlines sketched in lightly. He had never seen a map this large, showing such a vast area of the Three Worlds.
“We’re here.” Stone stepped out onto the map and tapped a spot with his foot. It was a star shape next to the blue line of a river. “From here, I could get across and out of the river valleys in three or four days.” His brows drew together as he studied the faded ink below his feet. “That’s eleven or twelve days for our warriors, more when they’re carrying Arbora. And we still have a long way to go after that.”
“Eleven?” Distracted, Moon padded across the map, looking for the Cordans’ valley so he could trace their route here. Stone’s pace, judging by the trip from Sky Copper, was one day to what would have been three at Moon’s pace. “You mean nine.”