Aurus smirks at us both over the rim of his goblet.
A door clangs open from another side. Apparently, the room has a bunch of different entrances. More warriors in gold armor march in and take their places behind Aurus. A few seconds later, another huge warrior strides in. He’s wearing suede breeches like both Khan and Aurus, and a cape of dark green. Another king? A group of figures in robes follows him—also in dark green.
The warrior seats himself without greeting anyone. The second a robed figure places an emerald goblet on the table in front of him; the warrior grabs it and gulps the contents down. Then he takes the whole pitcher, and empties that. I half expect him to belch.
Another door opens, and a large figure enters wearing a grey hood. Behind him is a cluster of silver-robed magicians, followed by a contingent of silver-armored warriors who tower over them. This king keeps his hood on, but the long hair streaming down his chest is the color of ice, and when he seats himself and reaches for his goblet, his hands are pale with black tattoos snaking over the skin.
“Welcome.” Aurus raises his goblet to both. “I bid welcome to the Stone King. The Hunter King.” He toasts the grey-hooded king and the green-cloaked king in turn. “And to the Wanderer.” He toasts Khan.
The Stone King steeples his hands, and leans forward. His face is hidden deep in his hood, but a warning creeps along my spine. He’s watching me.
The Hunter King swivels his head in our direction, his movements fluid, with a feline grace. He raises his head, sniffing the air. “Mate,” he grunts, and half rises.
Khan’s purr instantly changes to a low, warning growl.
“Now, now.” Aurus waves his free hand. “ Keep to your side of the table. Khan will not like it if we get too close.”
Khan definitely doesn’t like it. I’m sure each of the kings has his own specific scent, but all I can smell is the leather, chocolate, and smoke essence rising off Khan’s skin—and mine. I’m grateful for the oversized cloak sheltering me.
“Can we get started?” This from the Stone King. His voice is soft, with a slight hiss. Majorly creepy.
A gray-robedmagicianbrings forth one of the pale orbs by grasping an imaginary string and pulling it forward so the orb floats along in the air behind him. The robed figure draws it up to the table at an empty seat. A bow, and the magician retreats. The orb glows red.
“Welcome, Demon King,” Aurus announces.
Another robed figure brings another orb from a different corner of the room. It glows white.
“The King of Ruins,” Aurus says. And at last, a third orb—this one glows black. “The Shadow King.” Aurus addresses everyone, orbs included. “The Beast King will not be joining us.”
I count around the table. There are seats for all of the kings—including the Beast King—plus a ninth.
“Shall we get started?” Aurus asks.
“What of the King of the Wastes?” asks the Stone King, nodding to the empty seat next to his.
“A mere formality.” Aurus shrugs. But robed servants are grouped behind each chair, and every seat gets served a goblet, even the empty one, and the ones hosting glowing orbs.
Are the orbs meant to represent the kings? Or are the kings in a far-off land, connecting with the council via the orbs like some freaky alien Zoom?
Aurus rises and leans forward. “I've gathered you here for the purpose of hearing from Khan. Our Wanderer King. He's claimed an Omega.”
“Impossible,” hisses the Stone King. “None exist.”
“Scent.” This from the Hunter King.
“Yes, exactly,” Aurus says. “Can’t you scent her?”
All the present kings swivel their heads towards me. The Hunter King creaks forward in his seat, like he wants to lunge out of it.
What will happen if these kings rise up to grab me?
Khan is rigid underneath me, as if he's two seconds away from losing his shit. I tuck my face into his chest, locking my hands around his neck and squeezing tight.
“Where?” grunts the Hunter King.
“Where did you find her?” Aurus elaborates.
“A spaceport,” Khan answers. “You know how I travel.”
