Bone and Blood Volume I

9 - The Nest, 1926

Torani spent the next weeks in one of three places. Asleep in his den. Out of the nest hunting. Guiltily visiting the grub in the ascension layer.

Once or twice, he started the trip down, only to realize Vaeilentha was there. That left him no choice but to retreat. News of the grub's ascension had not come from him. It had passed from Serana to Demeko to Rotero to the queen. When Torani was interrogated about it, he confirmed: rising royal. Vaeilentha was over the moon.

Every moment spent in her company became syllable alphabet soup. Maybe she would name her knight Al-or-o. Or Ven-er-a. Perhaps even Or-ven-i. Torani wanted to rip out her tongue and eat it. Since that was not an option, he did everything in his power to avoid her instead. That evolved into avoiding everyone. Including Serana.

Though, to be fair, that was necessary anyway. He ached to confess to her. To explain how much he wanted that grub. How it would be better off with him. How unfair it all was! Serana would either listen and understand... or she would tell him he was crazy and try to stop him. That risk kept him quiet.

Besides, her confidence would make her liable for Torani's insanity. He would not put that burden on her. If he did something rash, he would take the fall for it alone.

Even if excluding Serana meant leaving the nest before sunset. And coming back after sunrise. And making lame excuses about his absences that infuriated her when she stayed up to meet him at dawn. Eventually, she gave up confronting him. Now, she avoided him. His self-architected isolation was complete.

In his desperation, Torani made a stupid decision: he started sleeping in the cocooning den.

The carved rock floor was sharp, uneven, and unyielding. The pit was frigid. Without his feathers, there was nothing to keep Torani from shivering all day. Every evening, he woke to sore muscles from laying on the jagged ground. And tense nerves, fearing that someone would catch him down there. Regardless, he slept more soundly in that miserable, cramped hole than in his den.

He dreamed mad fantasies where he dug this nook deeper, creating a new chamber. The queen would understand and allow it. Afterall, it would still belong her. Like his den. Technically hers, but also his. He would collect the failed grubs and outcasts and keep them there. A secondary hierarchy would form under him. His nest.

Naturally, they would not be a burden. Torani would hunt nightly to feed his family while still contributing to the larger family. Maybe Serana could hunt with him. No. That was too hopeful. She would never agree to that with the way things stood.

Unless, in the future, she stepped too far out of place. Azehralia would still want her around in case the nest ever got raided. It would only make sense to move Serana down to Torani's nest. Surely, they would make up when that happened. Yes. Somehow, it would all work out.

Torani's desires crept across the line from daydreaming into scheming. That evening, he awoke mouthing explanations to the queen. Arguments to justify his nest. He stumbled on the words, "Ilen rejects the broken ones." That brought him back to cold reality.

He glanced at the thick, cloudy white cocoon. His conviction that Azehralia would understand waned. A slow sigh. Stretching stiffly, he rose to his feet. Pins and needles riddled in his wings. A charlie horse raced through his neck. What a start to the night!

As he rubbed his aches, a twitching movement caught his eye. The cocoon had shivered. Torani checked his expectations. It had moved before. Every time, nothing had—Another shiver. A third in quick succession. That was new. Torani moved closer.