Chapter 73 – Strange shapes in the sky

Moon was standing at the kitchen door, her feet together, her hands pressed against her chest, her mouth slightly open.

On the other side, Aurora had set down the pot, set down the spoon, left the apron half-tied hanging off one side, and was kneeling on the kitchen floor with both hands sunk into the ground.

Moon blinked.

'…How is she doing that?'

Aurora's arms were buried up to the elbows. The floor around her hands trembled a little, rippled, like Aurora had stuck her hands in a pool and was stirring.

And yet the floor was still floor. Solid in the parts Aurora wasn't touching.

Aurora had her eyes closed, her mouth pressed shut, and her forehead crumpled.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on," she muttered under her breath, without opening her eyes.

Moon took a step forward. Then she knelt down next to Aurora, very slowly, without making a sound. She settled onto her knees, with her hands resting in her lap, and looked at the floor.

Then she looked at Aurora. Then at the floor again. And without saying anything, without thinking about it much, Moon pressed both hands against the floor and pushed.

Nothing happened.

She pressed again.

Nothing.

She pressed harder.

The floor was still floor.

Moon puckered her mouth slightly.

"…Aurora," she called quietly.

"…"

"Aurora."

"…"

"Aurora, what are we doing?" she asked, in that half-asleep voice of hers.

Aurora opened one eye just a bit. She glanced sideways at Moon and saw her two little hands pressed against the hard floor, not sinking, not doing anything.

She saw Moon's face, with that concentrated expression, and Aurora closed her eye again.

"Don't get in the way," she snapped.

Moon felt something tighten in her throat. She felt her eyes get hot and lowered her gaze to the floor.

◇◆◇

Elyra ground her teeth. She had her palms resting on Matt's forehead, her eyes closed, her breath held, and for a second, a long second, a second that stretched longer than she would have wanted, she'd felt that the barrier of Matt's mental world was pushing back.

Not much. But enough to keep her out.

Elyra tried again.

She pushed a little with the energy.

The barrier pushed back.

'…It won't let me in.'

And for a second, a tiny, ridiculous second, Elyra felt something clench in her chest.

'But he's alive.'

Elyra opened her eyes just a bit and looked at Matt's face, which was still asleep. The barrier of his mental world was active, and an active barrier meant there was someone on the other side keeping it up, and if there was someone on the other side, then Matt wasn't dead.

And for the first time in five days, Elyra laughed out of sheer amusement.

'…Ah. Ah, Matt.'

Elyra lowered her hands from Matt's forehead, slowly, carefully. She rested them on her lap, straightened up slightly against the headboard, and ran a hand over her mouth to cover the smile that was forming on its own.

She laughed at herself.

On the other side of the room, one of the guards, the closest one, turned her head slightly.

"…Your majesty?" she asked cautiously.

Elyra didn't answer right away. She ran her hand over her mouth once more to bring the smile down. She fixed her hair a little. She closed her eyes for a second, breathed, and when she opened them again her face was back to normal.

"…Your majesty, is everything alright?" the guard insisted.

Elyra nodded.

"Yes," she answered calmly. "Everything's fine. Keep watching."

The guard nodded, very slowly, and looked forward again. Next to her, the other guard hadn't turned her head at any point. She hadn't moved. But Elyra could see, out of the corner of her eye, that her shoulders had tensed slightly.

'…Ah. I scared them.'

Elyra lowered her gaze to her lap.

'I'm more on edge than I thought.'

◇◆◇

On the other side of the door, in a dark stone hallway, very far from the room but also very close, two servants were crossing a corridor with a tray each.

The younger one carried her tray pressed against her chest.

"…Is he still in there?" she asked in a low voice.

The older one didn't answer right away. She walked a few more steps. Then she answered quietly, without looking at her.

"Yes."

"…"

"Same as every day. He doesn't come out."

"…How many days is it now?"

"Eight."

"…Eight."

"Eight, yes. Nine tomorrow."

The younger one lowered her gaze to the tray. On the tray there was a goblet. In the goblet was something she hadn't poured but knew perfectly well what it was and who it was for.

Because in the castle, now, the only blood being requested at this hour was for a single room.

And everyone knew.

The young one swallowed again.

"…And…?"

"No," the older one cut in.

"…"

"Don't ask."

"…I wasn't asking."

"Yes you were."

"…"

The older one walked a few more steps. Then she lowered her voice even more, almost to the level of a tight whisper, without turning her head, without looking to the sides, without stopping.

"Listen to me."

"…"

"Don't ask about young Matt. Not to the queen. Not to lady Iris. Not to the guards at the door. Not to the maids in the north wing. Not to the cooks. Not to anyone."

"…"

"If someone asks you, you don't know either."

"…"

"You serve. That's it."

The younger one nodded slowly, without saying anything. And the two of them kept walking.

In the east wing of the castle, two guards on shift on a high balcony exchanged a quick look when they heard the explosion — they'd lost count that week — hit the barrier outside.

They didn't even flinch. They'd gotten used to it. The barrier held, but every explosion put the same question in their heads that they didn't dare say out loud.

'What if young Matt isn't around anymore?'

'What if the queen knows and isn't saying?'

'What if that's why she doesn't come out?'

Neither of them opened his mouth.

They looked at each other.

They stopped looking at each other.

They went back to looking straight ahead.

◇◆◇

Inside the room, the younger guard, the one standing to the right of the bed, felt a drop of sweat run down the back of her neck under the collar of her armor.

'…I've never seen her like this.'

The guard was young. Not in years, because in years she was old, as old as any vampire with centuries of service. But young in experience with Elyra. She'd been only 32 years in the shift close to the queen.

32 years.

And in those 32 years she had seen Elyra in many states.

Angry, cold, amused, tired, bored, interested, threatening, many things… but she had never seen her nervous.

And now, even though Elyra had covered up almost everything, the young guard had seen something. A tiny tremor at the corner of her mouth.

'Is the queen really nervous?'

The young guard felt another drop run down. She pressed her thumb slightly against the hilt of her weapon, without moving the rest of her hand, without changing her position so it wouldn't show, and she looked straight ahead with her jaw clenched.

'Don't think. Watch. If the queen is nervous it's because she has reasons, and the reasons are not my problem.'

The guard forced herself to breathe slowly.

Elyra, on the other side of the room, rested her hands on Matt's forehead again. She closed her eyes, and pushed once more.

'…Matt. It's me. Let me see… just a second, my love.'

The barrier vibrated and this time Elyra felt something else.

And before she could push further, she felt Matt's fingers grab her wrist.

Hard.

Really hard.

"What are you doing?" Matt let out, his voice dry and rough from the days without using it.

Elyra went still.

The two guards turned their heads at the same time, hands already on the hilts, feet slightly parting to better bear the weight, with the entire military response assembled in the same second.

And they both saw the same thing.

Matt with his eyes open, holding the queen's wrist.

Matt was alive.

The young guard felt the air rush back into her chest all at once. Air she hadn't known she'd been holding.

'…He's alive.'

'He's alive.'

'The whole castle had it wrong.'

Matt looked at Elyra.

Elyra looked back at him.

Neither of them moved for a second.

Matt frowned slightly.

"…Let go of me," he asked in a low voice.

"…"

"Elyra. Let go."

Elyra didn't move.

Matt tried to release her wrist harder, to push her hand back, to get it away from his forehead. But his arm, after five days lying down, didn't fully respond.

'…Damn it.'

Matt clenched his teeth.

He pushed again.

Elyra didn't let him. With her free hand, the one he hadn't grabbed, Elyra touched his cheek. With her fingertips, softly.

With that softness Matt had learned to recognize as the most dangerous of all, because when Elyra was soft was when she was furthest from letting him go.

Elyra smiled.

"…Don't scare me like that," she murmured.

Matt closed his eyes for a second and opened them again.

"…Elyra. Get your hand off me."

"No."

"…Elyra."

"No, Matt."

"…"

And in that moment the sound of an explosion came from outside.

BOOOM!

The castle shook. The ceiling lamp swayed slightly. The glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed vibrated against the wood and a drop spilled over the edge.

The candles in the hallway, on the other side of the door, all flickered at the same time.

The guards straightened up sharply.

"…Your majesty!"

Elyra had already turned her head toward the window.

BOOOM!

Another.

Closer.

Louder.

The glass trembled again, and this time it fell to the floor.

Clang!

It broke into pieces.

"Matt," Elyra called, her voice changing.

"…Elyra, let me go."

"Matt, stay still."

"Let me go."

"Matt."

"Elyra, let me go."

Elyra looked at him. And for a second she considered not letting him. For a second, a very tiny, very short one, she considered squeezing his shoulder slightly and keeping him lying down, with any excuse, with anything that would work to keep him from seeing what was happening outside.

But she couldn't.

Elyra let go of Matt's wrist.

Matt sat up slightly, his arms trembling. Everything felt heavy: his head, his eyes…

He sat up on the bed with effort, propping one hand on the mattress so he wouldn't tip over sideways.

BOOOM!

Another.

Elyra stood up fast, dress already smoothed, voice already changed, that voice of hers from when she stopped being a mother and went back to being the queen.

"Matt, I'm here. I'm here. Everything's going to be alright. Don't be scared. I'm here with you," she said firmly.

Matt didn't fully hear her.

BOOOM!

BOOOM!

BOOOM!

Three in a row.

Matt lifted his head.

'…Wait a second… those sounds.'

Matt swung his feet off the bed.

"Matt," Elyra insisted. "Matt, no. Stay. Matt."

Matt stood up. His legs almost gave out. He grabbed the headboard. He breathed. He took a step. Another. Each one took him two seconds. Elyra put her hand on his arm, not to stop him entirely, but to hold him up, and Matt let her because he had no other choice.

He walked like that, with Elyra's hand on his arm, the three steps to the window.

The window was tall, with thick glass. Matt pressed both hands against the glass, looked outside and noticed there was smoke.

A lot of smoke. Gray columns rising from several sides of the forest surrounding the castle. Small fires in two places. A bigger one near the east wall.

The castle's barrier glowed faintly against the sky, holding, but it was glowing in areas where it hadn't been glowing before, in areas where it was taking hits.

Matt narrowed his eyes.

'…What…?'

BOOOM!

Another impact against the barrier.

Matt saw the flash.

And above the flash, high, very high, higher than anything Matt would have expected to see in that sky…

He saw a silhouette with two straight wings. With a long body. With an engine whose sound, that low steady sound Matt had been hearing underneath the explosions without realizing it, was a sound Matt knew.

A sound he knew very well.

A sound he shouldn't be hearing in this world.

Matt's mouth fell open.

'…No.'

Another silhouette crossed behind the first.

And then another.

And then another.

Four in combat formation.

Matt felt himself forget to breathe.

'…No.'

'…No, no, no, no.'

'…That's—'

BOOOM!

Matt pressed his palms harder against the glass. He leaned a little closer to the window, his eyes wide open, his mouth still slightly parted, trying to convince himself he was seeing wrong. That it was exhaustion. That it was anything else.

But no.

He knew them. By the sound, by the shape, by the cut of the wings, by the way they moved through the sky, with that speed that only one thing had, and that thing shouldn't, shouldn't, shouldn't exist in this world.

'What are combat aircraft from my world doing here?'

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