Queen & Commander (Book One of the Hive Queen Saga)

Chapter Twenty-One: The Road to Freedom

Luciano had never been inside a jail cell before. All that propaganda about the miners of Nuova sleeping off a drunk at the local Motel Polizia was just wishful thinking from the Cymric superiorists on Dyfed.

It had the expected amenities: cots, toilet and washbasin, electrified metal bars on the doors. Little lived-in touches, though, surprised him. For instance, intricately patterned rugs covered the outside hallway with red and cream, and a trio of blown glass vases sat in an artful arrangement on the end table next to his cot.

Who put that sort of thing in a jail cell? Clearly the Llyr’s Llambo didn’t see much criminal action.

At least he wasn’t alone. Not only had the mobster thugs demanded all Cauldron personnel come aboard their ship, but he shared this box with Alan. Rhiannon had a matching cell across the way. Luciano could see a lush, velvety blanket keeping his unconscious Commander warm. When he’d made his displeasure known to their captors—screamed, really—about being separated from his Queen, they’d made pointed remarks about letting him see her, about how they weren’t heartless monsters who separated Devoted from devotee.

He worried where his other three Hive mates were being held, but this was enough for him. If he and Alan and Rhiannon could escape, they could find a way to get the others out later. His friend and his Queen were the most important. If their jailers were to be believed, the others must not have been distraught about leaving Rhiannon behind. Otherwise, they too would have ringside seats to whatever horrid tortures the criminals might think up for his Queen.

Mother Mary, don’t let them hurt her.

The thought spurred him like an axe in the back. He launched from his cot to pace the cell’s meticulously staggered hardwood floorboards. The cot shuddered from the weight loss as he rose. It skittered to the side with a shrieking clatter that made Alan start.

A glance across the way proved Rhiannon was still too out of it to notice.

Alan settled back onto his cot. His sightless eyes turned to the wall behind the vases. God, that’s creepy. The animated maybe-genius was like a dead bishop finding himself at the gates of Hell, confused about how he’d ended up there and unable to fathom his change in status.

Luciano didn’t know what exactly was bothering his friend, but he wasn’t going to waste Alan’s talents. There’d be no coddling here.

“Get up, man. We’ve got work to do.”

At least his voice knocked Alan from his self-involved stupor. Alan turned towards him and shook his head. “Me? Work?” He laughed like a brook of contaminated water. “What good is my work? Where was I during the oxygen debacle? What does it matter?” Finished with this self-defeatist invective, he returned to his mopey slump. “What do I matter?”

This melancholy ran deeper than a fear of imprisonment. Alan’s issues had festered longer than a mere few hours of jail time. Well, whatever Alan’s personal problems or desires to be left alone, Luciano needed his skills. Of the two of them, only one had a chance of breaking out of this joint... and it wasn’t the guy whose name began with the letter L.

Channeling an uncle from the tough love school of life, he dragged Alan from the cot. He shoved his cellmate’s face next to the bars, staying shy of their dangerous touch, and shook him.

I’m sorry, Alan.

“Look at that,” he demanded. Alan’s eyes remained resolutely closed, his resignation total. Luciano wouldn’t have it. “Look at your Queen. There she lies, helpless and hopeless. Will you leave her to the carrion crows? Or will you rise to her rescue?”