Then Tempest spiraled down toward the lower half of the slanting trunk, and banked sideways. Following her lead, Moon saw it too: where the bulk of the bole rested against the rock, two small steady lights shone against a dark opening. There really is a court here, he thought.
They dropped down toward the platform. The tree had grown into and partially through the ridge, and the two spell-lights revealed a circular stone platform extending out from the trunk where ribs of wood had enclosed chunks of rock. The tree overhung the platform enough that it sheltered them from the worst of the downpour, allowing only a light drizzle to reach them.
It wasn’t until his claws touched down on the slab of stone that the shadows shifted and Moon realized the rock woven through the tree’s bark was carved stone. Gray faces, pieces of arms, shoulders, torsos poked out between the sections of glossy wood. The light on either side of the open doorway blossomed on stones carved into the shapes of lotus flowers. It was impossible to tell if the fragmented statues had been meant to represent Raksura or groundlings. Moon couldn’t see much of the ridge half-buried under the looming trunk, but now he wondered if without all the clinging greenery it would look smooth or terraced; this ancient mountain-tree might have sprouted in the middle of an even older groundling ruin.
They all shook the water off their spines and scales. A faint scrape of claws on rock brought Moon’s attention back to the trunk’s entrance. A door deep inside it had opened and let out a wash of warm light and a slim figure.
Tempest turned her head to hiss at her warriors, reminding them of their manners. They all shifted to groundling, though the wary tension in the way they stood showed none of them were happy about it. Beacon glanced at Moon and motioned impatiently at him, as if he could somehow miss the fact that he was supposed to shift too. He hissed under his breath, gritted his teeth, and let his winged form slip away, the water left on his scales transferring to his clothes.
The warrior who stepped out of Opal Night’s doorway was slim and strong, dark hair pulled back from her face, the light catching glints in her dark bronze skin. Her clothes were ordinary, a shirt belted over loose pants, the colors in faded shades of red. Her expression was studiously neutral. She said, “I am Rise, of Opal Night.”
Beacon stepped forward to Tempest’s side. She said, “I’m Beacon, of Emerald Twilight. Our sister queen greets you, and brings the consort from Indigo Cloud.”
Rise tensed almost imperceptibly, and her gaze went to the warriors behind Tempest and Beacon, dismissed them, then to Moon. He felt a tickle of unease travel down his spine. It was generally hard to tell a young consort’s groundling form from a warrior’s, and Moon, dressed in somewhat worn clothes and not wearing any jewelry, had nothing to set him apart. But somehow Rise had known immediately he was the consort.
He had been expecting indifference, or perhaps just hoping for it. In a few heartbeats he was going to have to walk through that door into a court who had gone to some trouble to get him here, and he had no idea why.
Rise said, “We hadn’t expected you would arrive so soon.” She sounded more disconcerted than pleased by it. After a moment she added, “Please come inside,” and turned to lead the way through the dark doorway.
She didn’t say anything about Jade, Moon thought. If Jade was already here, surely Opal Night would have expected Tempest to arrive before now. It was hard not to ask; he knew he was supposed to keep quiet until he was acknowledged by a reigning queen or taken away by another consort. The friendly reception at Viridian Sea had made him more reluctant to break rules and act the part of crazy solitary here. He followed Tempest and the others inside, hoping to find a way to get the question in without alienating half the court.
They went through the dark passage and the doorway beyond. The opening was large enough for a line-grandfather to pass through without ducking, and led into an equally large hall, bare except for the intricate carvings on the walls. A few rock-lights on the floor reflected red light off the polished wood, but the upper portion of the room was cloaked in shadow.
Three other warriors waited there, all young males, all with a close enough resemblance to Rise to be her clutchmates. They glanced at the Emerald Twilight warriors, but picked Moon out as easily as Rise had, staring at him with nervous intensity.
The hall was quiet, though Moon sensed movement somewhere above. The air was cool and smelt strongly of wood, earth, and of strange Raksura.
Rise said, “Our daughter queen would greet you, but she’s away from the colony tonight.”
The skin on Tempest’s back rippled as she sternly controlled her spines. It was mildly diverting to watch Beacon struggle not to look offended. This was obviously not a problem Emerald Twilight encountered often. “Perhaps a sister queen is available?”
Rise hesitated, as if reluctant to admit it. “There is a sister queen here—our court has two primary bloodlines—but the situation is…complex.”
Beacon glanced at Tempest, uncertain. As Moon understood it, queens weren’t supposed to speak until they were greeted by another queen. Before the situation became even more awkward, Rise added, “But the reigning queen of our bloodline will greet you.” She looked at Moon again as if she couldn’t help herself, her gaze quickly returning to Beacon. “I know she has been very anxious for your arrival, and to be reunited with the only surviving consort from her last clutch.”
Moon felt as if someone had punched him in the head. He was dimly aware that Tempest and Beacon had exchanged a startled glance, that Tempest looked back at him with a newly assessing eye.
His mother was alive, and the reigning queen of this court.
Chapter Six
Your mother is alive, Moon thought, just to hear the words again. It was suddenly hard to take a full breath. Moon had thought Opal Night regarded him as just a token in Raksuran court games, a way to take a slap at Emerald Twilight and Indigo Cloud. It was clear that was how Tempest had seen the situation.
Moving by reflex more than conscious effort, Moon followed with the others as Rise led the way to the end of the hall and the high-ceilinged passage beyond it. It curved around and then slanted upward. They walked under balconies and past smaller doorways. He heard faint sounds of movement, voices, the distant rush of water.
Somehow he hadn’t expected this, that anyone here would be closely related to him. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t that.
As a fledgling, lost, alone, and hating every instant of it, he had fantasized about this moment. He had given up on ever having it a long time ago.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to have it now.
These are the people who abandoned you, left Sorrow, Leaf, Bliss, Fern, and Light to die. They didn’t bring you here because they wanted you back, he reminded himself. But his heart pounded in anticipation.
Moon caught a hint of movement ahead, right before he saw a female Arbora standing in a doorway. She could have been one of the Arbora from Indigo Cloud: short, strongly built, with the same dark hair and bronze skin as Rise. She wore a light tunic and pants, and as they passed the doorway Moon saw younger Arbora crowded behind her. As she saw him, her eyes widened, and she turned abruptly to say something to the others with her. The excited whispers were lost as they continued down the passage. Moon couldn’t make out the words.