Thunder Moon’s days were long, so though Belle had spent hours with Tobei and Kunin, the sun was still high in the sky—at least, she trusted that it was. She couldn’t know for sure due to the layers and layers of canopy between her and the sky. It was amazing how the great leaves of the oversized trees bounced the sunlight around until it seemed to be coming from everywhere. Like the trees made cool, green sunlight of their own.
Belle was eager to explore the village, but first she wanted to make sure Jac was alright. It wasn’t hard to find her—somewhere off in the trees, Belle could see the occasional burst of brilliant, blazing golden magic. They followed the blaze to a large dirt clearing where it looked like all the combat magic practitioners in camp (except Daivad) were gathered before Jac, who was basking in their undivided attention.
Jac was showing off Puissance, her hammer, inviting up anyone who wanted to attempt to swing it. One by one they lined up and gripped the handle and yanked with all their might, and after much huffing and groaning, went away defeated. When one older man stepped up, Belle knew right away he would manage the task. Face red, he gripped the hammer, called up his magic, and yanked. Puissance parted with the ground, arced up over his head, and fell back to the earth with a heavy thump.
The crowd whooped and cheered, and Jac clapped along with all the rest, every one of her teeth showing and that hungry glint in her eye. Before the man could step aside, she stopped before him and instructed him to swing the hammer once more.
“At me,” she said with that mad grin. She tapped her forehead, indicating his target.
Belle chuckled, and turned back toward the village.
Odelia watched her carefully. “You’re not worried?” she asked in that gruff voice.
“Not even the first time I saw it,” Belle said.
Finally, she had the chance to explore the village (without the pounding threat of Daivad’s footsteps hurrying her own this time), so she dragged Odelia to every corner of the camp she could.
It was a mess in the most beautiful way possible.
Similar to how Urden had been built up haphazardly as it quickly grew too big for its britches, the village hidden in the leaves had been constructed from whatever was on hand at the moment, it seemed. Belle could tell which buildings were the oldest because they were the simplest and smallest, on the edge of the village closest to where Daivad’s house was. Just reshaped branches, roughly cut wood, and some ropes and vines to hold it all together.
But as she explored further toward the center of camp, the buildings got bigger, with multiple rooms and actual doors. They’d tried multiple types of bridges and walkways between trees, and added pulley systems and zip lines to transport supplies. Everything looked a bit mismatched, yet Belle could see how it had all grown organically. Walking through each area, Belle could almost see how this little village had looked during each stage of its young life. It was like walking through time.
The villagers were of all ages and all shades of hair and skin, from the black-haired, dark-skinned children playing outside the infirmary on the forest floor to the pink-cheeked, white-haired elderly woman who cussed Belle out when she ignored Odelia’s warnings and attempted to explore the kitchen. For a village of fugitives, they were all well-dressed; simple clothes to be sure—tunics, togas or maybe some trousers, leather sandals or boots, colorful head-coverings for those who wore them—and well-worn, but even better taken care of. Any torn knees or split seams or peeling soles had been mended well enough that Belle couldn’t spot even one.
“Who cares for the clothing here?” Belle asked, wondering if Tobei had something to do with it. He was certainly one to care for appearances.
“Lenna,” Odelia grunted.
“By herself?”
“She’s quick.”
“And skilled,” Belle added. She glanced back at Odelia, at those flattering trousers she wore.
It made sense, she supposed. The precision of tailoring, of working fiber, covering flaws—it fit well with Lenna’s magic.
Almost everyone Belle saw as she (and Odelia) trotted across bridges, leaned over railings, and climbed up stairs, was marked, and no one seemed especially eager to cover those thick letters on their forearm. In the same way, it seemed almost as many people either wore old, prominent scars or else were missing at least one finger, if not a whole limb, and didn’t bother to hide those either. It reminded Belle so much of home.
And that reminded Belle that she no longer had a home. Which reminded Belle why she was here. And that she had to face all these beautiful, mismatched people and tell them about how she’d killed her
(Aran did that. Make her carry it.)
own beautiful, mismatched home, and now she needed their help in cleaning up her mess. And that sent buzzing, fidgety, heart-squeezing anxiety all through her body.
And that was when Belle would set out for a new corner of camp to discover.
Next, Belle poked her head into the infirmary, thinking perhaps she could help out around there and that would keep her hands and thoughts focused on something good instead of something dangerous.
Kadie, a chubby woman with amazingly pink coily hair and the most interesting sense of dress Belle had seen in the whole camp, was happy to put Belle to work and to chat with her all the while. Kadie wore a peplos that seemed to have been splash-dyed a dozen different yellows, oranges, and reds, all of which clashed loudly with her hair. Her lips and eyes were painted the same pink as her hair and her cheeks were rouged in salmon. A shawl of bright lavender draped her shoulders, pinned at her breast with a big red ruby cut into the shape of a heart. To say nothing of the seemingly handmade jewelry around her neck and over her ears that made it look like big, spindly, copper spiders were crawling up her head and disappearing into her hair.
She asked Belle all about the technique she had used to interrupt the flow of Lenna’s magic earlier, and when Belle explained that it was magic used by the healers at Great Cassiix, demanded a demonstration with sparkling eyes.
The infirmary was fuller than Belle had expected for a village of people who were obviously well cared for, but she soon came to realize that most of its occupants were permanent residents. Either they had mobility issues that made it difficult for them to make the trip into the trees alone, or chronic conditions made safer by nights spent under care, or they were healers themselves who found it best to bed down where they practiced.
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Kadie offered up one of her apprentices for Belle to demonstrate her magic on, a twenty-some boy who didn’t look excited about being volunteered. Right away, Belle named a pain in his shoulders, a tension that clogged the flow of his magic. Knots in the muscles, she explained, bred knots in the magic, and vice versa. This one, she guessed, had begun in his magic, stress probably, big, slow-moving chunks of worry getting caught on the way to and from his mind. A safe guess as so many people wore their worry there. He must have thought the same because he didn’t seem impressed.
She explained she didn’t need to touch him, though it would help, so first she’d just interact with his magic, not his body. It took a minute or two of alternating kneading and smoothing his magic, explaining what she was doing to a watchful Kadie all the while. The tension was deep-seated, twisted and twisted over years, but before too long under the gentle heat and soothing pressure of her own magic, the knots gave all at once.
He let out a sudden, shuddering breath and sagged forward, and Belle watched a surge of emotion burst free from those knots and go crashing over his magic.
“That’s almost always how it goes,” Belle told Kadie. “When the dam breaks, it breaks.”
Belle helped out in the infirmary until a distant clanging in the canopy announced dinner time. It was a jolting reminder that, distract herself as she might, she could never stop time, and soon she would have to tell her story. And after that, leave this perfect, wild forest, either having succeeded in her task or…
Belle wasn’t hungry—in fact she felt a little sick, but she wasn’t going to keep Odelia from her dinner. The thick stew with its chunks of potato, fresh vegetables, and even fresher meat looked absolutely delicious, but Belle’s stomach was turning flips more than she had in her circus days, so she just picked a table in the corner while Odelia waited in line.
Despite the corner table, she did not escape the sharp eyes of the angry old lady, Doll, who did the cooking, and Odelia joined Belle at the table with two trays. Doll didn’t serve anyone else in line, didn’t even take her burning glare off Belle until she’d picked up her oversized wooden spoon and scooped some stew into her mouth. Belle felt simultaneously afraid and also cared for. Scared for?
Surprisingly intimidated by such a tiny old lady, Belle made herself finish her whole bowl of stew and the accompanying chunk of bread. It was even more delicious than Belle could have imagined, and she made sure to tell Doll so once she was done. Doll only watched her and Odelia leave with narrowed eyes.
By now, it was nearly nightfall—that gold-green sunlight bouncing around the forest was dying, dyeing to filtered orange light cupped by cool blue shadows—and Belle was beyond exhausted. A day full of running from her problems (and a night full of running from a six-foot-seventeen Inhuman before that) would do that to a person. And yet, she hadn’t exhausted herself enough. As cozy and safe as her little cot in the tree cell might seem right now, the silence she would find there, the stillness, the Nothing, would only serve to make room for the Chaos inside her to come spilling out.
Belle had grown up in Chaos, and had only learned to fear it, be ashamed of it, after Richard had taught her.
But she had to be strong now. She had to stop running.
The Dark Mother, maybe even the Light Mother too, had guided her to Daivad. She knew that. It wasn’t like last time, where her own ego had driven her to dance a cursed dance before the Crown Prince.
This prince was different.
Belle found herself once again overlooking the hanging gardens. She had no idea how she’d gotten there.
The magic of the gardens was growing thicker, stiller since this morning, as the last bits of light were dying away. Instead of the smooth bubbling of this morning, with globs of rich magic in a thousand earthy tones dripping over the edges of the garden platforms, the magic had taken on an almost glowing, humming quality as it settled heavy over the crops, flowers, trees, and vines.
“Here,” she whispered to herself, ignoring Odelia’s grunted, “Eh?”
Here, she could do it. There was a large branch off to the right that curved around and over the gardens and had several benches where one could sit and just … look. Belle chose the highest one and collapsed into it.
Here, she could finally let them out.
Belle took a huge, slow, deep breath, and as she sighed it out, they came with it.
As usual, Panic spoke up first, and loudly.
They’re not going to give you an ear. Why would they? We’re outsiders! This village is so much like Great Cassiix, and how would we have reacted if some strange girl from Broken fucking Earth showed up and tried to guide our path? Convincing yourself there’s a chance you can earn their help will only make it hurt worse when they shoot you down!
Preparation piped up next with the gameplan he’d been preparing in the back of her mind all day long.
Manipulation magic. If you’d listened to me this morning we could have spent the whole day sowing the seeds in their magic and they’d already have taken root so that tomorrow night at the meeting we could reap the fruit. Since you didn’t, we’ll just have to start now and hope one day is enough.
It’s not enough! argued Panic. No one will listen to one mad little girl who destroyed her whole family and has spent the five years since sleeping with the Crown Prince!
Preparation countered with, And what lesson did those five years teach? Daivad said it himself—none of the other brides survived as long as us. How did we survive? We played the role Richard wanted us to play. We perfected the practice of manipulation.
Panic shot back with, Richard is one man, and a simple man at that. There’s no easier magic to read than his. This is about facing an entire village! We’ll fail!
It’s true we might fail, said Preparation, but if we brace for that possibility, we’ll survive. We have to try, for Mama B. The worst that will happen is that they say no—
Panic screamed, The worst that will happen is they throw at us names we know we’ve earned: Disgusting, Selfish, Broken! They’ll say, “If you got your whole family killed, why would we trust you with ours?” The worst is that the last hope will finally give, and that sends us back into the Nothing, and we lose our magic all over again. And without our magic Mama B will die in that fucking dungeon, and WE will die in that fucking castle—
In her head, Belle grabbed the both of them. And pulled them into a hug. They went quiet, whether from shock or because it was a hug that they had needed, Belle didn’t know.
She spoke in a shaky whisper, “This place is … beautiful. It’s pure magic.”
The last of the sunlight had gone, and stars were slowly taking over the darkening sky. The gardens were wrapped up in that special magic that only bloomed at twilight, when the day was freshly mourned and the night was eagerly anticipated.
They looked. And they softened.
Thank you, Belle said.
After a moment, they asked, For?
Keeping us alive.
They relaxed against her, and she gave them an affectionate squeeze. With Panic under one arm and Preparation under the other, Belle said, We’re going to survive this. We’ll feel sick and scared, but not forever. Everything Aran took from us, and everything Richard has done to us—we survived it all. Not in one piece, but we survived. And all those broken pieces, the sharp edges? Well, now we’ve got weapons.
We made it here. To this genius, peaceful place. And we’ll show this to Mama B one day.
Panic couldn’t help it. He burst out, But what if we fail?
We’ll survive that, too. And we’ll find a new hope to replace the one we lost.
Finally, they melted into Belle’s magic once again, each their own waves in her ocean, now calm. With them settled, she could feel the whole of herself again. And, after a few more minutes, the answer came to her.