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40 THARAN

Tharan kneeled in front of Queen Rhyhinia, or as her people called her, the Queen Bee, the name for the ruler of the Court of Honey. Built inside a massive beehive, the smell of fresh honey wafted through the air. Bees buzzed about, unbothered by the sylphs living inside their home.

The queen sat atop a carved wooden throne. Live flowers were embroidered into her massive white dress, bursting against her umber skin. Her hair was braided into long pleats, and she wore a crown of sunflowers. Next to her, her husband, Melkar, sat strong and silent, radiating power, with a square jaw and broad shoulders. His toned physique was visible through his silk shirt. Since hives had no king, he was referred to by name only.

“Rise, Alder King.” the Queen’s voice was smooth and deep like the honey they coveted. “You are a friend here. Roderick has told me of your plea.”

Tharan rose. His wine-colored hair sparkled in the amber light. He could only stare in awe at the massive combs rising like mountains behind the queen. “Yes, your grace. We have come seeking help with the Court of Screams. We believe there is something our enemies want there. Any information you can give us would be helpful.”

She mulled over Tharan’s words. “Let us speak in private. Follow me.”

She rose, cradling her heavily pregnant belly, grasping her husband’s hand. He escorted her off the dais into an antechamber off the throne room. Tharan, Sumac, Hopper, Amolie, and Roderick followed.

Gold covered every inch of the meeting room’s walls, and the table was made from an old hive encased in glass. Light flooded in from a giant window, where Tharan could see the first flowers of spring beginning to bloom in the fields.

Queen Rhyhinia took her seat at the head of the table. Tharan took a seat at the other end, and their advisors filled the space in between. His stomach hardened with trepidation, but he tried to remain optimistic.

“So, you want to know about the Court of Screams?”

“Yes, your Highness,” Tharan said, sitting back in his chair, he commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

She drummed her ringed fingers on her taut belly. “They have a leader. You could call him a king, but he’s more like a cult leader in my opinion.”

“What do you mean?”

“They believe he is the son of Algea or he is Algea or he’s Algea’s representative. I still haven’t fully figured it out myself. I’ve never met with him, but my scouts have heard screams coming from the woods.”

Tharan mulled over the queen’s words. The old gods were brutal, and anyone who worshiped them would likely be the same.

“Do they have a palace?”

“I have no idea. I assume they do. Could be ruins for all I know. They rarely leave their own borders. Some of the townsfolk believe the Trinity cursed them long ago for not worshiping them. Others believe they were like us once, but when the War of Three Faces came, they sealed themselves off from the rest of the world, and all that time in isolation made them mad.”

“Is there a way in?”

Her amber eyes flitted to her husband’s then to her advisors.

“There are some at our farthest borders who trade with them. It would be a crime to enter their domain, but I’m sure some do. You may walk this land freely, on one condition.”

Tharan leaned forward in his chair.

“And what’s that?”

“You bring some of my hives to your Woodlands. Let them feed and grow for a season and then I will collect them.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she said.

Hopper leaned into Tharan, whispering into his ear, “They think the bees will absorb the magic of the realm and deposit it into the honey. It’s a risk, but one we might need to take.”

Tharan cleared his throat.

“Very well. I will send word to my groundskeepers.”

“Excellent.” She smiled with a mouth full of blinding white teeth. “I thought you’d agree, so I took the liberty of drawing up this.” She snapped her manicured fingers, and a servant approached carrying a royal decree on a platter. With a white gloved hand, he gently placed it in front of Tharan. “You may travel freely within the Court of Honey, your Majesty. I hope you find what you are looking for… for all our sakes.”

“Thank you, your Highness. Consider us allies.” He gazed at the letter written in big swooping letters.

“Do not say things you do not mean, King.”

“I never do.”

“Very well.” She rose, cradling her stomach once again. “I must depart for my afternoon rest. I hope you’ll try some of our court’s delicacies. The honeyed ham is one of my favorites.”

The rest of the table stood and bowed to the queen as she departed.

A servant opened a door behind them and ushered them out.

The capital of the Court of Honey was Hiveton, a quaint village with thatched-roof cottages, cobblestone streets, and, of course, a beehive in front of every house and business.

“It’s so cozy here,” Amolie said as they walked through the flower-lined streets. The smell of honey and lilac wafted in the air and a trio of flutists played in the town square.

“A far cry from Elohim, that’s for sure,” Sumac said.

The people of Hiveton seemed not to notice them. They went about their daily business, saying hello to their neighbors, and haggling with shop merchants, much like the bees they cared for. They dressed in bright colors and most of the women wore flowers in their hair.

“This must have been a nice place to grow up, Roderick,” Amolie said.

“It was. But Vantris and the Court of Storms are my homes now.”

“Anywhere we are together is my home,” Amolie said, kissing her husband on the cheek.

His face reddened.

“Everyone, enjoy your night. We’ll meet up in the morning and head north,” Tharan said.

Three days of travel through the lush lands of the Court of Honey had their bellies round with all sorts of honied treats and confections. Tharan gazed out the window of the carriage as they trotted through rolling hills of budding flowers and fruit trees.

“This is quite something,” he said to Roderick.

“Yes, this court is blessed with an abundance of resources. It is why they are so desperate to preserve it. You’ll see when we get to Honeyville what a stark contrast the Court of Screams is.”

“Lovely,” Tharan said with a sigh. His mind was elsewhere, churning over every terrible thing Erissa and Gideon could be doing to Aelia. He fiddled with the rings on his fingers to distract himself.

“We’ll get her back,” Amolie said.

Tharan mustered the best smile he could. Leaning back in his seat, he tried to remember her smell, the way her hair felt as it slid through his fingers, the way her face lit up when she laughed, and what he wouldn’t give to kiss her lips.

The carriage turned into the small town of Honeyville. It was a quaint place with a crystal-clear river snaking its way through the village. A wall of twenty-foot-high honeycombs guarded its inhabitants.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Sumac said, mouth agape at the tiny village.

“Honeyville is an apt name,” Hopper added.

They stopped at an inn in the center of town and unloaded their things. As much as Tharan wanted to throw himself into the plush bed, he had bigger concerns.

“I’ve arranged for a meeting with the mayor,” Roderick said. “We should go as soon as we are able.”

“Lead on, but I’ll be needing some of that honeyed cider afterwards,” Tharan said.

“I think we all will.” Roderick patted Tharan’s back, and together they walked through the bustling town to the mayor’s home with Sumac and Hopper in tow. Amolie stayed behind to set up her potions.

One of the mayor’s advisors met them at the door. A short, plump, sylph man with a mop of curly hair and a button nose. He had to be part halfling. Sylph were naturally tall and muscular, built for battle.

“Roderick and Lord Tharan, I presume,” he said.

“Yes. We have a meeting with Mayor Thistlebottom.”

The man looked at his parchment and nodded. “Right this way.”

They walked through the quaint halls of the mayor’s residence, much like the Hive of the Queen Bee, the walls grew hundreds of varieties of flowers. All in bloom. Bees flitted from one to another gathering their pollen to bring back to their hive. The floral scent of honeysuckle filled the air.

“Right through these doors,” the attendant motioned. “The mayor is waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Roderick said, pushing the doors open.

The mayor, a sylph woman with dark skin and white hair braided into two buns on the top of her head, stood at a large oak desk, examining some documents. Her brown eyes lit up when she saw Roderick.

“It has been too long, my friend,” she said, smiling brightly.

Roderick embraced the woman in his massive arms.

“It is good to see you, Lydia. Or should I call you Mayor.”

“Lydia is fine.” She slapped him playfully.

Tharan and Sumac exchanged knowing glances.

“Very well, Lydia, these are my friends, Lord Tharan Greenblade, Sumac, and Hopper, of the Woodland Realm.”

“It is very nice to meet you,” Lydia said, rounding her desk and taking a seat at a long cherry table in the center of the room. “Please, take a seat, and I will tell you what I know of the Court of Screams.”

They each took a seat in a plush, velvet chair. An assortment of honey cakes and pastries adorned the table, and a silver mug sat before each of them. Lydia rang a bell, and two servants carrying teapots filled their mugs.

“Now that we have refreshments, where to begin?” she said, taking a sip of tea. “Roderick told me you want to get into our neighbors to the north. If that’s true, I’ll say you’ll have no trouble doing so. It’s getting out that’s the issue.”

“Have you seen their leader?” Tharan asked, leaning forward in his chair. “Should we seek him out?”

“Their leader is called Cyrus, and you will want to avoid him at all costs. He will not take kindly to you trespassing in his domain. But the good news is there aren’t many of them, so they should be easy to avoid. Roderick mentioned something about a well…”

Tharan shot Roderick look that said, “ You better not have. ”

Roderick averted his eyes.

“Yes, we’re looking for something old. Older than the sylph.”

Lydia nodded.

“So, something ancient, like a shrine?”

“Yes,” Tharan said.

Lydia sucked in a breath. “There is a place where the Court of Screams performs their sacrifices. They call it ‘The Well of Blood’ and it was there long before they were. I’m wondering if this is what you’re searching for.”

“How do you know all of this?” Tharan asked.

She gave a little chuckle.

“You don’t think we’d live next to a cult that worships pain without at least sending some scouts in once in a while, lest they come knocking at our door.”

Tharan nodded.

“Very well. Then we shall make our way into the forest tomorrow.”

“Best to go at night, when they are sleeping or doing their rituals. That way you can get close in the day when they hunt.”

Tharan let out a breath.

“Fine, we’ll rest and head out tomorrow night. Do you have any spies or even hunters who know their way around the forest?”

“I will call upon my men and see if someone will take you. I will have them meet you at the inn tomorrow night when the last rays of light have hidden behind the horizon.”

“Thank you.” Tharan nodded to the mayor.

“Do not make me regret this, King.”

“I won’t.”

They rose and said their goodbyes and headed to the local tavern, where a string band played, and people danced and sang. Meanwhile, knots tied themselves in Tharan’s chest. They would have to blindly walk into another hostile court. He prayed to Illya that they weren’t too late to rescue Aelia.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” he said to Sumac, who was downing a pint of honeyed ale.

“Oh, most definitely. No good can come of this. We don’t even know if Aelia is there. What if we get all the way into their little temple and she’s not there? What are we going to do?”

“I… I don’t know. I know we need to find and harness the power of the Wells, but right now my priority is getting Aelia back.”

“We will.” She patted his back.

“Don’t worry, you’ve got one of the finest soldiers in Moriana on your side,” Roderick said.

“Hey…” Sumac chided.

“Well, two of the finest, I should say.”

Tharan smiled, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a cloaked figure lingering in the back of the tavern. Something about the man set his nerves on edge.

Sumac’s smile dimmed and her brows knitted “What is it?”

Tharan took a swig of his ale, letting the alcohol calm his nerves. “We have an admirer.”

“Do you want me to say something?” Sumac whispered.

“No,” Tharan replied.

“What are we whispering about?” Roderick and Hopper leaned in.

“Make it more obvious,” Tharan scoffed. They broke from their huddle to find the hooded figure standing next to them. Tharan’s heart leapt in his chest.

The man pulled back his hood revealing a long, elegant face.

“Trinity be, Lucius. What are you doing sneaking up on us like that?” Roderick said.

“You need to leave, now. Blood Riders are coming. I saw them hunting on my way here.”

“Blood Riders? But I thought we killed them at Ryft’s Edge.”

Lucius cracked his neck.

“They made more.”

“How did you get here so quickly, Lucius?” Roderick asked.

“That’s my secret to keep. Now let’s get to the inn and I’ll tell you of what I know.”