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After removing the beast’s corpse from the Bower, Barry and Arturo returned from the honest dark of night covered with persistent rain. Arturo took Trevor’s place tending the Prince’s wound.
The Knight shook his head, whispering, “He’s hanging on by the tips of his tentacles. I’m not sure he’ll ever wake up.”
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A crash of lightning followed the shape into the bower. Miranda lay senseless beneath the invading mass of muscle and rage.
Colored spots before Elliot’s eyes throbbed in rhythm with his pounding head. He gritted his teeth against the agony in his side. Thinking only of shielding his daughter, he sank into cold, black emptiness. Cassandra’s voice called to him from far, far away.
“Elliot!” Her cry surged and expanded to a scream of desperate cramping lost in the thunder’s drumming.
The beast’s voice rumbled its own thunder. “Where is General’s Assassin?”
Arturo winced as he moved to stand between the Prince and the invader. Clark followed him.
“Mama!”
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“But, Mother,” Andre implored, “what was I supposed to do? Samantha’s team wouldn’t leave her alone with us, and when she took us to the front, I watched her kill two wasps with a single move — like it was nothing.” He stared hard at her as if that would communicate the full horror of what he’d witnessed. “There’s no way I could have forced her to do anything.”
Covering her face, Queen Madalena tried not to begrudge her son the senseless deaths and injury his friends had suffered. She tried not to blame him for the head-strong willfulness of his sister, even as anger, disappointment, and remorse tried to tear her heart apart. Her silence lasted longer than she knew.
“Mother?” Andre pressed.
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Arturo strained to talk as he flew. “A Hive Elite team found us… when they saw Lieutenant Terrance’s body… I had them carry the Prince and Princess… back to the Bower, and deliver… the body to the Queen.”
“What about the Assassin’s?” Vernon asked. “It was your triumph. How do you wish to dispose of it?”
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Arturo stopped to investigate a dark stain on the path. From what Barry told me, this must be where the Assassin attacked King Arnie. The Frogs’ prints had been washed away, but Elliot’s trail overlaid a Stinger’s. I hope the Prince knows what he’s headed into.
A scream slashed the air. Arturo picked up his pace.
~~~
The Assassin limped closer. Elliot faced his rising tail, calculating his own odds of survival. If I die now, Cassandra and the baby will be next.
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Although a mere drizzle fell when Ambassador Arturo arrived at the Alliance camp in the dark hour before dawn, thickening clouds and a brisk wind promised a brief dawn and another storm. He thought of the Wildlands Ants and resisted the atmosphere’s depressing heaviness.
Great commotion at the Medic station drew his attention, but the voice calling, “Arturo! What’re youse doin’ here?” turned him around.
“Barry!” His friend was covered with cuts. “What happened to you?”
“Nuttin’ wort’ worryin’ about. Youse should see da stitches dey’re puttin’ in Trev’s face. What brings youse here?”
“I’ve got some good news for the Alliance.”
“We could use some.” Barry looked back at the Medic tent, and spoke in hushed tones. “Da King’s in dere. De Assassin got ’im an’ dey aren’t sure he’s gonna make it.”
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General Hai’s glowing wings flared, igniting the fumes trapped against the ceiling of the little cavern he claimed as his field headquarters. “What do you mean, ‘all the prisoners are gone’?” His icy tone shivered the hapless soldier who’d been ordered to fulfill the demand Queen Lilian had relayed through her mouthpiece.
His breath shallow and shaky, the young wasp stared at the ground and elaborated. “I’m sorry, Sir. We found the same thing at every holding area: dead guards and no prisoners.”
Melting into the shadows, Anthony was familiar with their leader’s tone. Unless this young soldier was a lot smarter than he looked, the Assassin knew what would happen next. It was always a shame to throw away one of their own, but there was no reasoning with Hai when he got like this.
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“This wasn’t the plan, Anthony.”
The Stinger shrugged. “What can I say? The General’s schedule opened up at the last minute, and he’d like to conclude this arrangement without delay.”
General Hai hovered above an assortment of Stingers, both Creepers and Flyers. Scorched spots on nearby plants testified to his touch.
Peering through the haze emanating from the smoldering wasp, Elliot asked, “How did you enter Fen without being seen and apprehended?”
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Leaving Cyrus to watch over Miranda and her brood, the King led the three Knights away from the Bower and the Hive in the only direction that made sense to him: toward the enemy. His daughter was out here somewhere, and he would find her or die trying.
Rain beat on everything, washing away evidence of anyone passing in either direction, drowning out all sounds but its own, and obscuring to a blur anything further away than they were from each other. Even when lightning shredded the darkness, grotesque jerking shadows wrestled reality into submission.
The Assassin was just as surprised as they were when they met.
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“We’ve heard enough!” The single voice drowned in the assent that rumbled through the hastily convened Wildlands Congress of Ants.
“War breeds carrion,” another called. “It’s good for us no matter who wins!”
Commandant Marabunta banged her staff against a hollow log. “We are charged with more than disposal. The Alliance wants us to assist their side in combat. Ambassador Arturo can’t guarantee access to their enemy’s dead unless his Alliance wins. So I ask, who would march east to join with this new Alliance in battle against The Arids tyrant?”
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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