Patty smiled, looking away from him to glance around the room. He didn’t miss the mumbled, “No promises.”
It was an odd thing to be both aroused by her violence and chilled by it. His Patty made him feel many things at once. It was something of a surprise that he ever managed to form coherent sentences when she was around.
“I— Patty. You can’t just— ” he stumbled over his words, reaching out a hand to pull her attention to him when the heavy doors to the throne room opened very slowly. Two scantily clad guards grunted under the weight of the doors, their muscles bunching as they struggled with their whole bodies to open them. A gaunt male stood in the entryway, all four arms behind his back. He had the four winged emblem of the Queen stitchedinto the chest of his tunic denoting his position as the Royal Caller.
Patty’s grinning face turned to him. “I like the Queen's style.”
The hand he’d reached out to her closed into a fist in a nervous twitch, and he pushed off the chair to stand, holding out a secondary hand to her. “She was fair in the past. Let’s hope that hasn’t changed.” He jerked her to him, all four arms coming around her. Her head tilted up at him to smile and some of the tight, nervous tension melted off of him enough for him to return her smile with one of his own. “And don’t think I’m letting the subject of murder drop. We will discuss it later.”
Her smile widened, and she ran a hand up his chest, her blackened fingers mimicking walking over the fabric of his tunic. “Whatever you say, big guy. Whatever you say.”
There was that prey feeling again. It made the tips of his ears grow hot and Patty’s grin turned teasing when he cleared his throat and stepped away from her. He knew his blush had darkened by the sparkle of pride in her eyes. His own lips twitched into a smile as he turned her with a hand on the small of her back. The Caller scowled at them, turning on his heels to lead them inside the chamber. The red floor deepened to the color of old blood shot through with gold veining, the four winged emblem embedded in the center of the floor, a single gold flame signifying the flame of creation with four golden arching wings surrounding it. Chaise lounges and plush chairs scattered around the room held bored looking aristocrats and courtesans, all watching them as they crossed the space. A raised dais against the wall directly across from the door had a large golden throne placed upon it. The Caller stopped when he stood directly in front of the dais, flared his wings wide, and held all four palms upturned in front of him.
“En Rema Usutuku and Nin Patricia Dells of the Rijitera, Great Matriarch,” he announced, his voice carrying across theroom, and then he backed away from us to stand off to the side of the dais, his two left hands gesturing grandly at the Queen. “The Great Matriarch of the Neldre, The One Queen Of Many, She Who Shatters, Immainthe Ozira, long may she reign,” he called, his voice booming.
Rema’s gaze drifted from the caller to the Queen, warring emotions waging a battle inside his heart at the sight of her after so many years.
The Queen sat straight and proud upon the throne, her jagged crown stabbing towards the ceiling like broken glass, its ruby color glinting in the candlelight cast from a massive crystal chandelier hanging over the center of the room. Her gown swept the floor around her, spilling down the dais steps like oil. The total blackness of the fabric seemed to absorb all the light, making the Queen a black hole in the center of the room, all attention inexplicably drawn to her. Her black curls cascaded over her shoulders to gather on the seat of the throne like coiling snakes. Patty gasped when the Queen’s face turned to her.
The hard jewel-like facets of her six amber eyes always shocked the first time someone saw them, two normal sized with two small eyes over and under, set into a face so savagely beautiful it was nearly painful to look at her. Her great wings stretched slowly from behind the throne, the whisper of feathers dragging along the floor loud in the silent room. All four of them reached out in an impressive display before curling around her, their red feathers an ominous cloak. She moved her eyes to Rema and blinked slowly, her blood colored lips pressing into a hard line.
Rema folded his arms behind his back and bowed at the waist. “Great Matriarch, thank you for receiving us. This is my Patty, Patrica Dells of the Rijitera, Clan member of Jack Ramsey, chosen kin of General Ohem Pax At’ens, trusted ally of the Korsals, and my hopeful intended,” he said, reintroducing Pattythe proper way, taking a small moment to shoot a glare at the Caller before focusing his attention back to Patty.
Patty dipped her head, her eyes still wide on the Queen.
“You come asking to court our Rema?” the Queen’s soft dual toned voice cut through the silence of the throne room like a knife. One of the tones was slower, almost a whisper, so that her voice seemed to echo itself. It was an eerie, haunting thing that always managed to make a shiver crawl across his skin even when he was so used to it. Though the pride in her voice when she’d called him her Rema made his heart give a painful squeeze. Shame colored his cheeks as he looked at the Queen. He had not done a good job of keeping in touch with her. She met his gaze with a neutral expression on her face before returning her eyes to Patty, her mouth firming.
Pride shot through him, stiffening his spine when Patty took a step forward without flinching, her smile back in place. “Yes. And after that is settled we have come to discuss the war and your aid in it,” Patty explained, her voice firm and just loud enough that those lounging in the chaises and plush chairs scattered around the large round room could hear her.
“I have been in contact with your ambassador, Doctor Samantha Johnson of Earth. She was very thorough in her reports. I know of the war with the Unity and their defeat at the hands of the Korsals.” A tense pause and then the Queen shifted in her throne. “I am interested in hearing your first hand accounts of the battles. Holovids of the Rijitera have reached us, and we are intrigued. It would seem wise to make an ally of her.” She blinked slowly at Patty, her lips twitching at one corner. “And of you, Patricia Dells.” She raised one of her upper hands, holding it palm out towards us so that we could see the swirling tattoos covering it. Rema’s breath froze in his lungs at the sight. It was a signal of her judgment.
“In thanks for the vaccine sent by the Rijiteran named Anu, a second audience will be granted,” she intoned, lowering her hand back to her lap and dipping her head at them. Relief hit him like a punch from Jack, hard and swift, so that he sucked in a sharp breath, but before he could blow it out the Queen shifted her wings and continued. “As for your courting request…” Rema held his breath, reaching out to take Patty’s hand in his. If they were denied, he would cut ties with his people forever… and Patty would try to kill everyone in this room.
The Queen’s smile rose like the sun, shining brightly across the room, her eyes softening to that of a mother to her favorite child, her four hands coming together palm to palm in front of her. “That too is granted. Congratulations, Rema, for finding what you have been waiting for all these years, and to Patty, for being worthy enough to garner his consent. May your mating be long and fruitful.” With that she clapped her hands and after a long, tense moment of silence in which the Queen’s eyes never wavered from them, the others in the room joined her, their applause subdued and stilted.
Rema’s breath let out as a great whoosh, his knees turning to water. He kept his feet by sheer force of will alone, turning to Patty to find her already reaching for him, her smile radiant and eyes shining.
“Murder averted,” she murmured into his chest. He narrowed his eyes down at her head.
Chapter 5
Patty
The Queen was creepyas hell. Beautiful, sure, but it was the kind of beauty a Black Widow had— as in the deadly, creepy kind. Her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent, and combined with the blood red of her four wings, and the dark amber of the six fucking eyes, she all but screamed deadly predator. All of her teeth were pointed, not like the others of Rema’s kind, with the sharpened canines. No, the Queen had Nosferatu teeth, minus the buck-toothed part. Were all alienspredators? The only ones I’d met that didn’t have a toothy, killing grin were the Healers and that was only because they didn’t have a mouth at all.
What a weird evolutionary trait to share. Where were the fluffy aliens? Or would those be fluffy in the way Furbies were? I still had nightmares about those creepy toys speaking randomly in the night, their big eyes following my movements.
The sudden death of the applause startled me out of my spiraling thoughts, jerking my attention back to the deadly spider that was the Queen sitting on her throne. She was still smiling at us, and the sight did not give me the warm fuzzies. It made me think of skittering things and the munching of bones in the dark.
The Queen’s smile widened as if she could see my thoughts, the smaller upper and lower eyes on her face widening in an emotion that I couldn't place. Her emotions were a void. She tasted like a cold storm, the kind of killing cold that one found in the dark places of the world, and that told me absolutely nothing, only that she was not an enemy we wanted to have.
“You are invited to dinner this evening to share your thoughts on the war. We will determine the extent of our involvement after we hear your tale.” Feathers fluffed on the upper pair of her wings before settling with a little shake. “The Founding will commence tomorrow at first rising. Rema, as your mother is not here to carry out the Guarding for you…,” her face darkened, all six eyes narrowing, “and your aunt is unsuitable, I will fulfill this role for you as I have known you the longest aside from your blood kin.” The dual tones of her voice was starting to really weird me out. It sounded like someone was behind her mimicking everything she said in a hollow whisper.
At Rema’s sucked in gasp, I tilted my head to look up at him. His face was flushed pink with pleasure and… I smacked my lips at the burst of tart berries… shock?
The Queen smiled fondly at Rema when he bowed deeply, his right hands coming to his chest. “I am honored, Matriarch.”
Why couldn’t his mother come? Or did she not want to? Just how fucking deep did the shittiness of his family go? I looked away from Rema with a frown, and met the Queen’s eyes.
