Clarion sank to her knees, terrified what was happening. No one could hear her, and she was so weak she wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. But if Bernard planned on starting a fire to her chamber, there wouldn't be a need to fight anyone.
Her heartbeat roared in her ears. Think. She couldn't panic, she had to think of how to get out. Setting a hand to her chest to calm the painful slamming of her heart in her breast, she felt her whistle tied to a string around her neck. She tried putting it to her lips, but she was shaking too hard. Closing her eyes and taking a couple deep breaths, she forced herself to calm down. Her hands steadied only slightly, but it was enough. She blew hard and long. Nothing. She blew again, tears building in her eyes. No, she couldn't panic. Panic led to stupid decisions and missed opportunities. Queens did not lose their heads during a crisis. She was a strong ruler who had survived crises before. Forcing her fear down, she blew again.
Her eyes landed on a fire poker in the middle of her fifth blow. She was dizzy from blowing and her stomach was threatening her, but she managed to stumble over. Snatching it up, she went back to the window and tried chipping out one little hole. All she needed was a hole the size of her little finger so Mountain could hear the whistle. If Mountain came, so would Milori. And she knew he would bring an entire army if needed.
She jabbed the poker over and over in the same spot for several long minutes, her jabs growing fierce and filling with rising hysteria. But she didn't even make a crack in the pane. Panic swelled in her breast. She started swinging the poker madly at the window, letting it hit where it may in hopes of finding a weak spot. She swung faster and faster, letting out a yell with each hit. Over and over and over. For a brief moment in time, she knew what it was like to go mad with terror. Then she noticed the door made of wood. She charged at it with the poker, letting out a battle cry as she deliriously chopped and splintered the wood. Nothing existed in her mind but the door as she pummeled at it for a long time. Then she heard a ding. She swung again to break off a large chunk of wood to find steel under the door. Beating at the door for several long minutes, she had splinters of wood scattered all around her to reveal a completely solid metal door that was impenetrable. Her energy finally started to dwindle and her swings became weak. But Clarion continued, the madness fading and tears starting to roll down her cheeks with every failed swing that brought her closer to despair.
Her arms hurt from the jarring swings, and they finally gave out. Try as she might, she couldn't lift the poker. Her hands started shaking. She was truly alone. Was he planning to kill her? Lifting her hand to try once more to break the window, she shot pixie dust only to find a tiny burst come forth.
"No," she whispered in terror and tried again. Nothing came this time. Tears started flowing freely. Why was she out of dust? She couldn't run out of dust, it wasn't possible. Turning to look over her shoulder at her wings, her heart caught in her throat to see her them not glowing as brightly. What was happening? It was impossible for a fairy who had talents to run out of dust. Then her eyes flew to the window to look out at winter.
"No," she whispered. With Milori and Sled not having talents, they could only survive a week or so until they'd need their pixie dust replenished. With a queen dead, there would be no one to do it.
"Clair?" The doorknob rattled. "Clarion, open the door!" Bernard called.
She scrambled to her feet and ran over. "I can't! Everything's locked!" she cried.
He jerked hard on the door. "Who locked it?! Clarion, this isn't safe! Use your dust to break it open!" he called in a panic.
"I can't!" she started to weep. "My dust is gone! My wings are fading!"
"Stand back!"
She heard a chop and the door rattled. And again. He was trying to cut down the door. She stood back, her arms wrapped around herself hoping he could do it. Dinging could be heard, and she knew he had gotten through the wood. His sword was perhaps sharp enough he could cut through the metal, she hoped. Then there was a loud thud against the door and a scrape.
"Bernard?"
Silence.
She knelt to peek through the sliver of a gap under her door. Bernard's legs were visible, but the rest of him was past the door. He was face down on the floor. And he started to be dragged away, his legs slowly disappearing past the door.
She shot up and pressed herself to the wall next to the door so she couldn't be seen from underneath. Her eyes were wide and her breath came in harsh gasps. It wasn't Bernard. Pixie Hollow help her, they had no idea who the traitor was.
A piece of paper slid under the door.
She stared at it, too terrified to pick it up and risk being seen. But she was even more terrified to read the note.
Finally, after several minutes passed, she dragged her rug over to the door to prevent anyone from looking underneath. Then she picked up the note and ran over to the window where the moon was shining brightly. Her hands trembled as she unfolded it to read the only line scrawled in handwriting she didn't recognize.
Pretty caged little bird.