God forgive her, but she didn’t want the war to end quickly. At least, not until next summer, when they’d had a chance to plant crops and harvest them. All the food from Earth was running out. It was only a matter of time before the elves were the only source. For her unborn child and all the people of Pittsburgh, she didn’t want their survival to be dependent on the good will of the Wind Clan. It would be a simple matter of letting Pittsburgh starve in the dead of winter.
She hoped that the Wind Clan would be better than that. She prayed that they were. But she couldn’t afford to assume that they would be.
They only needed to be in Oakland during the war. The moment it ended, they could settle anywhere in the city. They could stay at the Cathedral of Learning. The important thing was to find winter clothing and start stocking up on food.
She yawned deeply.
Tomorrow.
She woke up late at night, the moon shining light through the windows on the ranks of cots around her. The Wyverns, who stayed up the night before, slept while the marines kept watch down the hall.
It made Olivia feel like she’d awoken in preschool during nap time and found her classmates still asleep. She wondered why. She spent years sleeping with all her stepsisters, stacked like cordwood in bunk beds. Maybe it was because the Wyverns were unknown elements; possible allies instead of known enemies.
She didn’t have the luxury of seeing the world as a child. Currently her worldly possessions were exactly a pair of underwear, a pair of sensible shoes, a gingham sundress, and a purse full of gold. She needed clothes not only for herself but for Forest Moss too. He had lost everything at Ginger Wine’s; his rooms had burned the night of the oni attack.
She tiptoed to the restroom. Forest Moss didn’t stir but all the Wyverns woke long enough to watch her pass. Half of the marines were gathered around the elevator; the rest were in cots scattered about the twentieth floor. They grinned sheepishly at her as if she’d caught them doing something wrong. They bowed repeatedly, like a flock of drinking bird toys.
What had she interrupted?
They didn’t seem to be drinking or smoking (if elves smoked), or even roughhousing more than normal. They must have been talking about something they didn’t want her to hear. She let the restroom door squeak closed behind her, clunked across the tile floor, coughing to make more noise. Then, slipping off her shoes, crept back to the door. At the ranch, eavesdropping was the only way she ever learned anything. During the day she’d learned the individual voices of the marines so she was able to identify the speakers.
“See,” Dagger whispered loudly. The female was the brassy leader with a little too-friendly hands. “All this strangeness and she’s calm as ice on a lake. No amount of wind is going to be ruffling her.”
“Two different things.” Ox didn’t bother to whisper. He tended to be blunt to the point of rude, but not in an intentionally mean way. “He could shatter again at any moment. She’s still human; there’s nothing she can do to stop him.”
“She calms him right down.” Coal sided with Dagger. “Ice on rough waters.”
“No, he’s like a keg of black powder,” Ox stated. “One spark. Boom. Everyone dead before they can stop the explosion. He’ll probably just kill her by mistake.”
“He’s too valuable!” Rage lived up to her name; her voice was rough with her anger. “We need him. The oni have powerful human weapons and dragons and wargs. Forest Moss is a seasoned warrior, something that Wolf Who Rules is not.”
Coal made the sound of agreement. “It was Wind Clan domi that killed the oni dragon, not the viceroy. Do you think, once she’s dashavat, she’ll be as fearsome in battle as the child bride?”
Olivia didn’t know the meaning of the unfamiliar word. Once she was what?
“I don’t think it will come to that. Forest Moss is going to shatter and the holy ones will put him down. You’ll see. Just like Earth Son.” Ox whistled, imitating a sword cutting through the air. Earth Son had been beheaded by his own guards.
“Wyverns don’t want to do that,” Dagger said. “We’re spread thin and Forest Moss has fought bravely so far. Earth Son was a coward.”
“At that place with the children statues that he was blowing up, they were discussing putting him down like a mad dog when she slipped him away. They might not want to do it, but they will.”
They meant Kaufmann’s. The Wyverns had been that close to writing Forest Moss off as a lost cause?
“I would like to go to that place,” Lynx said. Apparently Elvish didn’t have a word for “department store.” “They say that the stairs moved and would carry you up and down without you moving your feet.”
The conversation changed to the rumored sights of the city that the elves would like to see. Olivia backed away from the door, her heart beating madly. The Wyverns planned to kill Forest Moss? The only reason he was still alive was because she kept him sane enough that the elves felt safe around him?
Were they right? Could Forest Moss lose control enough to accidently kill her?
She used the toilet because the need was real and ignoring it wouldn’t solve any of her problems.
Somehow this was worse than when Troy first unleashed his anger on her. She’d been scared then because she knew no one would stop him from hitting her until he felt like stopping. This time the Wyverns would stop the person hurting her by killing him. It should make her glad that someone was protecting her. Had she become one of those women that expected abuse as part of a relationship? Or was it because she didn’t want to believe that Forest Moss would ever hurt her?
She finished, washed her hands, and then stood staring at her reflection.
Shouldn’t she be comforted by the fact that she was being protected?
The door squeaked open and Dagger leaned in. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Olivia said automatically.
The Wyverns woke again as she made her way back to her cot despite the fact she was trying her best to move silently. Forest Moss stirred, sought her warmth and fell back into deep sleep.
She imagined that she felt the eyes of the Wyverns on them. Judging them. At any moment, the holy warriors might decide to take a sword to Forest Moss. They could even do it with her beside him, spraying her with blood. She shuddered, remembering how it felt when they butchered the lambs. The small thrashing bodies that had to be held still for the knife. The stench of blood and the slickness of it on her hands. The cries of fear. The distress of the ewes wanting back their lambs.
Olivia wrapped her arms around Forest Moss, hugging him protectively.
Anyone could be dangerous; even the smallest of children could pick up a gun and pull the trigger. It was the nature of God’s creations; the will to survive included the ability to kill. Even bacteria could murder. What set humans apart from animals was the moral understanding that ability to kill others didn’t equate to the right.
The Wyverns might be just and holy, but they had no right to kill Forest Moss.
She couldn’t let them, but she knew she couldn’t stop them. Somehow, she had to find a way to keep them from harming Forest Moss.
Olivia and her private army went shopping the next morning. By some minor miracle, the nearby Giant Eagle had managed to stay open while the rest of the chain had closed. She trundled through the big supermarket, pushing a cart with one squeaky wheel, followed by a herd of Wyverns and royal marines. Imagine Dragons’ “Radioactive” played over the sound system, the deep thumping bass accompanied by the cart’s squeaking. “It’s a revolution I suppose,” the male lead sang. “We’re painted red to fit right in.”