Aerity took hold of the ladder, giving it a gentle shake. Dustings of particles showered down. Aerity wiped her face and began to climb, testing each rung in her hand before applying weight. A few had to be bypassed. She looked down once to see Vixie’s frightened hazel eyes staring up at her as she held the ladder tightly, balanced on one foot. Good girl.
Aerity lifted herself gingerly onto the edge of the roof, which hadn’t fared well. She crawled to the largest gap of warped wood and lowered her head. A series of beams ran along the ceiling, crisscrossing. It was a far drop. Across the space, at the back of the warehouse, was a pulley system of ropes that’d been used to lift and lower crates. If Aerity could get to that, she could climb down. Her heart raced as she reached down for a beam, grabbing hold with her fingers and swinging her legs around.
The woman’s back was to Aerity; her hair was black and she wore a gown of the richest red. Wyneth was stock-still, continuing to stare down at the thing at her side. It seemed benign, harmless, but Wyneth’s face appeared ready to crack, her voice like shaken shards. “It . . . he . . . what do you mean trained?”
Aerity still couldn’t see the woman’s face, but her voice sounded pleased, as if she was smiling. “All my life I have prepared, royal girl, to take back what is mine—my family’s, my peoples’. For years I watched my father create and fail, but he never gave up. He went to his grave, laughing with satisfaction when he had succeeded at last, not even caring that his own creation took his life. And then I began building on what he had started, allowing it to grow. Now . . . finally . . . I have succeeded.” The woman paused, and Aerity let the horror of her words sink in.
She carefully lifted herself onto the beam, as wide as her hand’s length, and began to move on her hands and knees. Her breaths felt so loud, but neither Wyneth nor the woman seemed to notice her. She hoped to the seas that if Wyn saw, she’d have sense not to bring attention to her.
“Why?” Wyneth rasped, her shoulders curling in. “Why would you make this thing? Do have any idea what your experiment has done?”
“Oh, yes. Our experiment has shown that my people still hold power, even when others tried to take it from us.”
Aerity moved lithely, glancing at her cousin between movements. Wyneth shook her head, horrified, trembling in terror. “Who are you?”
“These hands,” the woman mused, not answering. “They look feeble to you, no?”
Wyneth shook her head, took a step backward.
“Do not move,” the woman snapped. “I don’t need my beast to kill you. My own hands can do that easily enough.” So the woman was Lashed. And insane.
Aerity’s mouth was dry. Her heart was wildly skipping beats, and her mind could hardly process what she was hearing. She had to act fast. With hesitation, Aerity looked down toward the guard, a sense of vertigo temporarily dazing her. This was higher than she’d ever climbed. Finally her senses righted and her eyes bypassed the guard’s mutilated torso, locking on the bow sticking out from under his back, the arrows that had half slid from their quiver.
Aerity needed to get to that bow, but she’d have to get past the woman.
“Who are you?” Wyneth repeated.
“Ah, yes. Soon, everyone will know. Now that I have you for bargaining power. I am Rozaria Rocato.”
Rocato? As in the Rocato? Aerity’s hand slipped, and she gripped the beam hard, wobbling. Slivers of wood fell as she flattened herself downward. She swore she saw Wyneth’s eyes go up, but her gaze dropped just as quickly.
“R-Rocato?” Wyneth gave a tiny sound of surprise from the back of her throat.
“You fear the name Rocato, do you?” asked the woman. “As you should. I am the granddaughter of Rodolpho Rocato, the greatest Lashed to ever live.”
No. Wyneth gave a strangled gasp. Aerity wanted to stay still and listen, but she had to move. She arrived at a junction in the middle of the ceiling. A vertical beam stood in her path. Aerity rose, flat-footed with her toes splayed for balance. She had to crouch so as not to hit her head on the ceiling. She brought her arms around the beam and wound her leg around it until she felt the horizontal beam on the other side. Carefully, she slid her body around, shifting her weight.
The woman’s voice filled with dark glee. “Our blood is not diluted. The past five generations of our family have all been Lashed. My great-grandfather helped all the people in his town, and they showered him with gifts. That is how it was meant to be—symbiotic. My great-grandfather was overjoyed when his only son was called upon to be a healer of the royals.”
Again, Aerity lowered to her hands and knees to crawl. She wasn’t too far from the ropes now.
“If your great-grandfather and grandfather were so well and happy”—Wyneth licked her lips—“then why did Rocato kill the king? You speak of him like a hero. He was a murderer.”