“I suppose your loyalties are crystal clear.” The words are out before I can bite my stupid tongue.
“My Lady…” he starts, trying to apologise, but falters.
“I understand, General,” I say, stopping him before he can speak further.
Thank the Gods, the painfully awkward moment ends with a sudden bang. I snap my head forward as the arched gate splits open with a piercing clank.
We exchange a look before crossing the border, taking in the guards’ turrets set at different elevations along the mountains, and being painfully aware that iron arrows are pointed at our heads.
I don’t let the realisation stagger me, my power lingers close to the surface, and an image of an impenetrable shield is ready in my mind.
“How thoughtful of you,” Aidon blows me a theatrical kiss.
Fuck you.
A welcome committee of three hags waits in the middle of the road, eyeing my shapeshifter. Behind them emerges a wooden village, with houses no taller than an average stall in Santorili.
The one in the middle I recognise as Margorate the Iron Lady, the infamous Baba Yaga. She looks as royal as my Grandma and as crazy as a redcap. Two other hags flank her, probably her second and third: Bogda and Wisla. At least if nothing has changed since I took my diplomacy course.
Diplomacy, my ass.
Jestin pivots in my direction, plastering a bored look on his face, but the words that come out of his mouth are anythingbut. “Seleste, remember that whatever you’ve done, you are a descendant of Gorok, and she is cut off from the God’s power.”
It brings me so much comfort.
“Be careful,” Riven whispers.
“Stop overreacting, hags are fine,” Aidon chimes in, but I don’t spare him a glare, focusing my full attention on Baba Yaga.
“You’re late,” Margorate states, her voice throaty but feminine. I would appreciate it if she weren’t glaring daggers at the Draghtrall. “And with those scams as a company? Not the most obvious sign of respect.”
“Here, I thought you would appreciate a family reunion.” I form a one-sided smirk, letting her insult slide.
This time.
“You’re as funny as your predecessor.” She inhales mockingly, then grimaces, sharing a look with her companions. The tallest one nods, shaking her head.
“As you can imagine, we need a bath, so hurry that welcome along,” I hiss.
My heart stops when the hags make a beeline for us. Margorate stops a few inches. Her teal depths lock into mine.
I have trouble maintaining eye contact with her, given how forcefully they drill into mine. If I lose the first dominance battle, I can go back to the tavern in Tricity and buy a lifetime room. She is so close I can count the freckles on her face. Plenty, but despite it, she looks pretty with a maze of red curls.
The stare down takes so long, I am relieved when she furrows her bushy brows.
“Something ugly hides within you, yet I can’t quite identify it.” As soon as I flinch, the corner of her lips curves.
Damn me.
Strange thing to say, isn’t it?Aidon muses in my head. From the corner of my eye, I see him shifting from foot to foot.
Oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like she’s talking about my crimes.
“Now I see where the ‘mad lizard’ nickname came from,” I say with a crooked smile. “You’re hardly the embodiment of grace and allure yourself.”
“Fair. Your mother slept with a blue Djenie, so the Berigander genes stay dormant?” She studies my hair. The colour set Trisha and me apart, but it’s not something worth mocking. On the other hand, our ears were a different issue altogether.
Freaking cow.
