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They’d done it. The new Alliance Council had crafted an agreement every tribe in the Freelands agreed to honor. Well, every tribe but one. The Hiverarchy of Free Bees had declined all invitations to join the proceedings.
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“…and Lady Lucy is dead.” Queen Lilian repeated in disbelief.
“Yes, your Magnificence,” the drenched Hopper said as rain dripped from his antennae to the floor. “She didn’t know the Assassin had escaped from the Freelands and beaten her back to the Arids. The General caught her in her lie, gave the order, and the Assassin carried it out.”
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Cassandra hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep after Miranda suggested she might be pregnant. Sunrise shone on her Elegance as she sat above the Lilian Pond, chasing her swirling thoughts in circles.
What if it’s true? she asked herself. What if I am expecting? How could anyone be so fortunate? Marry the love of my life and have a child come from the only night we’ve had together before Elliot had to leave? It just isn’t possible, is it? It would be like a fairy tale.
The sky was clear, but a shadow passed over her happiness, plunging her heart into despair. But in fairy tales, the Prince always dies never knowing he’s going to be a father, and the Princess has to raise their child alone.
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“Excuse me, Ambassador,” a member of the newly formed Alliance Guard murmured to Arturo, “troops from Bog have arrived. A Lieutenant Terrance would like to speak with you.”
Momentarily diverting his attention from the Council’s discussion about observing different funeral rituals within the Alliance Army, Arturo replied, “Show them to the staging area and bring the Lieutenant here when he’s satisfied with his troops’ accommodations.”
On Arturo’s other side, Barry asked, “Da Knights are here? Would youse be all right if I go along to see ’em? Dis seems ta be windin’ down, an’ everybody’s gonna need some sleep soon, so how’s about if I come back dis afternoon?”
“That works for me, friend.”
Barry jumped out of his seat. In two leaps, he’d caught up with the Guard. “Lead the way!” he urged.
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“Where’s Lady Lucy?” Clifton asked.
Searching the Meadow and the sky, Barry said, “Dat’s a good question.”
“Barry,” the Prince reminded him, “she’s the one who told the Knights the Stinger was there.”
“I know youse’re right, yer Princehood, but why di’n’t she just grab him? An’ why’d she let dat udder Stinger go?”
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Having no weapon, Barry pulled a torch from the ground, and joined Clifton to take up positions slightly ahead of Ambassador Arturo and Prince Elliot. The dark shapes became three Knights surrounding a massive Stinger whose tail dragged behind him on the ground.
The crowd backed away leaving a moat of safety around the new arrivals. The Knights stopped a defensible distance from the Prince, pinning the prisoner down with the butt ends of their slicers.
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As the sun touched the horizon, they followed the dry staccato of an ancient cough and found the venerable leader of Freelands’ wasp community plucking dinner from a stalk of grass.
“Honored One,” Elliot called, “please forgive us for interrupting your meal. Thank you for inviting us to continue our conversation about creating an alliance between the Freelands, Bog, and Fen.”
“Elliot?” the creaky old wasp squinted at him. “Elliot! It’s good to see you and your friends, young sir. We didn’t expect you until tomorrow. Here, join me — have a bite to eat.” He held out a wiggling morsel that Barry’s tongue found almost before the invitation was extended.
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They fairly ran through the Bowls of Death meadow, but even if they had flown through it, Elliot couldn’t have shut out visions of the terror Cassandra endured there at the rebel Spike’s bidding. So why did his thoughts take an unbidden fork in the road?
My love is alive today because Arturo killed Spike. I believe with all my heart that he deserved to die — but was it justice?
Might it have been better to incarcerate him for the rest of his life? Maybe they could have put him to work repairing all the damage he’d done. Maybe it would have brought the families whose lives he’d ruined a sense of satisfaction to see him serving their needs.
Entering the Freelands, Elliot witnessed rebuilding everywhere he looked.
It wouldn’t have undone the deaths he caused, but is it really better that he isn’t here to help set things right? Families mourn, and then they have to repair Spike’s devastation.
What might Cassandra think?
But right now, he needed to speak with someone else.
To be continued. . .
Previously, on Elliot’s Adventures ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next time . . .
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King Arnie sent one third of the Knights he’d brought to Fen to go with Prince Elliot to the Freelands. He ordered another third to keep Princess Cassandra safe in Fen. With his small remaining contingent, his Greatness swept unnoticed through Bog. He didn’t stop till they reached the jail.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked the prisoner who’d freed the Crone.
“Of course I do, your Greatness,” the jittery fellow twittered, bowing his head. “I was born and raised in the Cranberry Bog, same as you.”
“Really? No one here knows you.”
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Elliot smiled. “Of course I’ll be back, my love. There is no force of nature or unnatural conscious design powerful enough to keep me from you.”
He had pushed the end of the day as far away as possible, filling each minute with a smorgasbord of stories and plans and preparations only to find sunset had swallowed the overstuffed hours as easily as ever, dragging the blanket of night behind it. Those who were going to the Freelands had agreed to travel under the cover of darkness.
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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