“This is getting us nowhere,” I say, pulling my chin from his grip. “I don’t know shit.”
“You are lying,” Dreven says. “You avoid eye contact when you are lying.”
“And you know this how?” I snap. “You don’t know fuck all.”
“Temper,” Dastian says, keeping his eye on Tabitha, who is merely standing around waiting for… something.
“We know you better than you think we do,” Dreven replies. “What do you know about the shift?”
I don’t know why I’m not telling them. It seems counterproductive to keep secrets at this stage of the game. With a deep inhale, I let it back out and say, “I know why the crown is so happy to be in my soul.”
“Clearly,” Voren says. “Tell us.”
“I am the Wraith King,” I say, lifting my chin defiantly. “Or rather, Queen.”
Voren’s eyebrows shoot up as if he had no idea.
Dreven simply rumbles, and I shudder as I recall that the former Wraith King was his father.
Dastian snorts in amusement and then lunges forward. It distracts us enough to turn to see him gripping Tabitha by the neck. “Ah, ah, ah,” he murmurs. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Tabitha doesn’t look frightened, just mildly inconvenienced. She pats Dastian’s hand as if he’s a petulant child.
“I was merely securing the exit,” she lies, smooth as silk.
“Bullshit,” I say, stepping over the rubble. My body still hums with enough voltage to power all of Galway for a week, and the snake in my soul is settling in for a nap after its little rampage. Lucky fucker. “You were doing a runner.”
“And leave you unsupervised with god-level power and a chaotic impulse control disorder? Hardly.” She extricates herself from Dastian’s grip with a sniff.
Voren is still staring at me. It’s unnerving. “Wraith Queen,” he repeats, testing the weight of the words.
Dreven looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. “You’re my father’s successor.”
“Okay, let’s not make it weird,” I snap, holding up a hand. “I didn’t ask for the crown, and I certainly didn’t ask for the heritage complications. Can we focus on the fact that we just blew up the Order’s dirty little secret and two very pissed-off ex-slayers are currently plotting my demise?”
“They won’t be back in a hurry,” Tabitha says. “But they will be back.”
I round on her. “Look. I don’t know where you fit into all of this, but clearly, you are afraid of the Devourer, as are the rest of us. It poses a very real and dangerous threat to every realm. Some are gone already. I won’t let this one be next. So you are either standing with me, or you are in my way. Which is it?”
Tabitha meets my glare with the sort of detached calm that usually precedes a detention. She smooths the front of her coat, looking entirely out of place amidst the rubble and swirling dust.
“I stand with order, Nyssa,” she says, her voice clipping the air. “The Devourer is the ultimate entropy. You are the only weapon capable of putting it down. Therefore, I am with you. Do try not to make me regret it.”
“Ringing endorsement,” I mutter. “I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
Dastian snorts, though he keeps a sparking hand hovering near her shoulder just in case. “We can take some time at the cottage, but after food and rest, we need to move out. Things are escalating.”
“You think?” I mutter, but there is no anger, only frustration that every time we take one step forward, we are thrown three steps back. It’s starting to piss me off.
“Cottage,” Dreven repeats. He grabs my arm. “We regroup. Then we try again.”
I nod because there is nothing left to say.
I’m all out of sass, and that’s more concerning than turning into a giant serpent.
Chapter 20
Voren
