Clarity
The library bunker was stuffed to the brim. Damask floor pillows fluffed the perimeter, and a corner table held heaping piles of cheese, fruit, and smoked meat. All untouched. No one had an appetite with the thunder outside, the droning within. The vat of melgo, however, was a huge hit. Most of the staff had already gone back for seconds and thirds, their formerly crisp uniforms now wrinkled with sweat as they clumped between the shelves, whispers and eyes darting through the weak light. Naokah could’ve used a strong drink too, but she had much to say, much to ask, and she didn’t want to fumble any of it.
She veered around the fruit salad tree, nodding at Marguerite, who attended a cut on Mauricio’s hand. The mercy caught her gaze, his pupils magnifying behind his green-rimmed glasses, and he offered a thin smile as she passed. Her lips curved into more of a grimace than a grin, as she neared the Keeper and head sentry, who were sitting on a bed of fringed pillows under an eave. The iron chandelier above flared, throwing dark shards over the library, shadows far too similar to the creatures she’d barely escaped only moments before.
“Madam Keeper,” Naokah said, clearing the apprehension in her throat. Had she not just crossed an isle wearing a lethal bee cloak? This was nothing. “Excuse me if this is too bold, but it seems you’ve been preparing for this for some time.”
“You’re right. You are too bold.” Avice leaned forward, uniform pulling at her shoulders, pallid skin pulling at her temples.
The Keeper, upon placing a manicured hand on the captain’s, glimpsed over her goblet. “Safety measures were placed after the last…mishap.”
Naokah crossed her arms, trying to contain the heat boiling her veins. “I’d call it more than a mishap.”
The Keeper looked like she’d just sipped vinegar instead of melgo, long lashes fanning her cheeks as she searched for words. Likely she didn’t know the extent of how dark and twisted the maze went.
“You might want a refill.” Naokah raised a brow at the Keeper’s half-empty goblet. “I learned a lot on my little jaunt across the isle.” She told them about Kjell’s duplicity, the very real and unfortunate possibility that, since Laerte and Mila hadn’t returned, he’d killed them too, and his sick motivation behind it all, turning Abelha into an aviary and destroying the bee population altogether. She left out Brielle’s part in it, though. She’d intervened at the end, saving Naokah, and she wouldn’t sully her name by admitting her forced involvement.
Gasps assailed the hazy library, trailed by fraught silence. The Keeper’s hand quaked, melgo sloshing in her goblet, and Avice shook her head. Still, neither offered anything. Something large and heavy clanged overhead, riling the room. The Keeper flushed the shade of her gown. Another clang, outside the arched window overlooking the hedge maze, but night had already pooled over them, quick as ink.
“Kjell is responsible for the unexplained deaths and claims to have killed my sister.” Naokah’s voice wavered. “But he wasn’t here when she went missing. He mentioned an Enzo?”
“Enzo was his predecessor,” said Samara, frowning. “He was kicked off the isle for attempting to drown your sister in a melgo vat. He failed.”
Marguerite gasped, and all eyes shifted to her. “I should’ve put two and two together.”
“What do you mean?” asked Naokah.
“I treated Enzo for severe burns to his face and a knife wound across his neck before he left.” The healer pinched the bridge of her nose, cursing under her breath before looking back up. “Kjell had gone through some extensive aesthetic treatments and—”
“Had a scar running ear to ear,” Naokah said. His makeup, his waxy, too-perfect face. “He disguised himself and returned to compete.”
The Keeper exchanged a loaded look with her sentry, then nodded, but Avice answered.
“But Enzo/Kjell didn’t kill Lenita. Those darting shadows outside? The scrim is what we call them. A final raze you from the Scorned Son before the Divine Daughter banished him from Vindstöld. Abelha’s not only charged with guarding the world’s bees but the Scorned Son’s afterscape. Last Praxis, our wards were breached, and when we managed to close this passageway, or so we thought, your sister sacrificed herself for the greater good. She died a hero.”
Tears pooled in Naokah’s eyes. She’d suspected her death. Even if Kjell hadn’t been the culprit, she’d felt that absence. But hearing it aloud, the confirmation, ripped her heart out. What she’d give to see Lenita one last time. To thank her for raising her, to apologize for being cruel. And now she never could. She clenched her jaw, fury chasing away sorrow. “And you never thought to release that bit of information, so, I don’t know, her family could grieve?”
Avice stared down at her lap, knotting her hands. “It would’ve caused worldwide panic if the other nations knew—”
“You labeled her a coward, running away from her responsibility.”
The sentry blenched when Naokah said ‘coward’, but still didn’t make eye contact. “We didn’t have a choice. Lenita would understand. She—”
“Don’t you dare speak for my sister,” Naokah snarled, and Avice finally looked up. So did the Keeper. Eyes wide and mouths agape, the staff mirrored her shock. Everyone save Samara, who shrugged as though agreeing Naokah’s anger was valid, then took a sip of their melgo. “Are the scrim also responsible for this?” She yanked the locket out of her pocket and shoved it into the Keeper’s face.
“I…what is this?” She looked genuinely confused.
Naokah opened the rusty hinge, The Unsinkable Clara splaying on one side, her family on the other. Still, the Keeper shook her head, but she caught Avice’s guilt trudging across her drawn face.
“Ask your captain,” Naokah said.
“Avice?”
“The woman in the locket was a pirate,” Avice said, flipping her hands over as if stating a well-known fact. “We apprehended her for diverting our bee barges to salvagers in the north.”
“You’re lying.” But Naokah’s words came out a whisper. She’d always wondered how Tati had come across such unique goods, some so incredibly random, it made no sense for her to buy them at port. They were personal. Tati had argued the best trades were done with someone who loved their material goods, that their love for that memento carried over and stayed attached to the object for good luck. “My tati was an honest privateer.”
“Don’t be naïve.” A cruel laugh escaped the captain, but it was cut short by more clanging on a nearby tower. The bees keened, heightening the tension. “As you’re all too aware, inflicting harm on Abelha and her bee population is a grave offense. In fact, there is no crime greater. Those caught in this illegal trade, their ships are burned and the crew and captain, repurposed, if you will.”
“Repurposed?” Adrenaline-fueled fury coursed through Naokah. She couldn’t stop trembling. The Keeper took another drink, stiffly eyeing her sentry, but didn’t answer. What was her role in this? Had she even known? “If I’m to swear in as the new Keeper, am I not to know of the skeletons on this isle? I found my tati unceremoniously dumped in the western river. You owe me an answer.”
“I owe you nothing,” Avice sneered. “Your aunt was a pirate. She did unspeakable things. Unforgivable things. Whether you believe that or not doesn’t change the fact that she was a villain, an enemy to Abelha, and was executed.”
A headache sprouted at the base of Naokah’s skull. She rubbed her neck, attempting to unclench her teeth, but it was hard. She’d won the Praxis, was expected to be sworn in, and still, the citadel kept secrets? She scanned the agitated group. No one would look her in the eyes. Her rage was on the verge of bubbling over, and the rest of the room felt it, growing deathly quiet, save the bees. They fumed with her. She felt their power growing, their venom throbbing.
“What did you do with her—”
The dome above the fruit salad tree exploded, flinging shards of glass across the library, dousing the room with muggy night air. The torches flickered, snuffing out. The hum of bees and something else, something ominous and ancient, intensified to deafening. An elbow collided with her temple and blinding light shot behind her eyes. As screams ricocheted off the hives and the library erupted in chaos, Naokah fought to stay sharp, but a heavy wave of pain crashed into her, sweeping her away.
* * *
Naokah awoke to scuffles, groans. The room, thick and stifling, seemed to have been yanked up and rolled over. Stomach twisted in knots, she spat out blood and crawled over the cold floor, debris and dust biting her palms and knees. A single torch beside the fruit salad tree cast halos over the crumpled Keeper and Avice, the latter running shaking fingers through the Keeper’s long hair, pleading for her to wake. But she didn’t move.
“Is she all right?” asked Samara.
Naokah couldn’t actually see the savvy, the rest of the room hazy with dust motes and clutter, but she recognized their firm voice.
“Her chest is rising,” Avice said.
A shuffle of steps and the healer came into view, kneeling by the Keeper. Her silvery-white hair glowed. Figures sat bunched up against the shelves; a few were sprawled beneath the windows. Still, unnaturally still. Even the bees were quiet, as if mourning.
“She’ll be fine,” the healer said finally, and a collective sigh echoed. “Suffered a heavy blow to the back of her head. We must wake her. With her brain swelling, it’s dangerous to let her sleep.”
The captain whimpered, shaking the Keeper’s shoulder. Gently at first. But when she didn’t move, with increased vigor. Finally, a groan trickled from her, and the sentry’s shoulders fell like she was breathing for the first time since the lights snuffed out.
The Keeper’s eyes popped open. “You,” she groaned and jolted up, steadying her head with her hand. “Get away from me.”
Avice squinted, scanning the group. “Who—”
“You!” The Keeper pointed a shaky finger at the sentry. “She trusted you, and you betrayed her.”
The sentry slid the healer a perplexed look. “Why don’t you lie back down? You hit your head and—”
“I’m perfectly fine,” the Keeper said, wincing as she backed farther away from Avice. Her eyes shot wildly around the room’s wreckage, making her look more like a trapped animal than the world’s most powerful leader. “What am I doing here with that traitor?” Avice opened her mouth to respond, but the Keeper cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Not you.” She turned to the healer and raised an expectant brow. “Marguerite, right? I remember you from camp.”
The healer’s brow creased. “What’s the last thing you remember, Madam Keeper?”
“Keeper?” Her lips pursed, and she cocked her head to the side, now looking more puzzled than ever. “That disgrace for a captain over there conspiring behind my wife’s back and coercing one of my best mates into turning on me so that I’d sail The Clara right into a trap.”
“The Unsinkable Clara?” Naokah’s chest caved in. She knelt by the figure who, only moments before, she’d thought was the Keeper and dropped the necklace into her hand. “Do you recognize this?”
She popped the locket open and gasped. “Where did you get this?”
“Found it today near my tati’s…grave.”
Earnest amber eyes met hers, growing bigger, misty. “Are you…?”
“Naokah,” her voice quavered, “an older, hopefully wiser version than the last time you saw me.”
“What in the Daughter’s name is going on?” Avice threw Naokah a bewildered look.
“I don’t know how it’s possible, but….” Naokah squeezed the woman’s hand. “Meet Comandante Jordana Hansen, my aunt, who you executed for piracy.”
Blood drained from Avice’s already pale face, and then her eyes flashed with fear, with malice. “If you’re not the Keeper, witch, then where the razing is she?”