The spy glowered at her.
Alora cleared her throat. “I take it this is the first time you’ve been put on security detail?”
He ignored her comment and tossed another burlap onto her table. “More sustenance. Dried meat this time. Berries and turnips, since Calla whined you would sicken without it.”
Alora rose, smoothing her skirts. “Thank you. I am most grateful.”
Tsking, he flopped into a chair and draped his limbs over the arms like a sullen beast. The end of his tail flicked back and forth irately.
“Do not thank me. I am a Harbinger, not a servant at your call.”
Alora couldn’t help hiding a smile.
She liked him, despite herself. Deimos was the first not to treat her as anything but herself, even if she was an inconvenience. He reminded her of Bramble.
Withdrawn, short tempered, and annoyed by her presence.
Alora tilted her head, studying him. “What is a Harbinger, exactly? Rune called you generals.”
A sharp grin tugged at his mouth, revealing a hint of fang. “Generals,” he scoffed. “That is the word he uses for your benefit, little queen, so your mortal tongue may grasp some shred of meaning. We are far more than that.”
Deimos leaned back, stretching his clawed fingers as though savoring the chance to enlighten her. “We do not merely fight at his side. We command, we keep order, we enforce law when his gaze is elsewhere. Calla tends to matters of diplomacy among the factions. Hadeon is the hammer and shield, the wall between our sire and any who would strike him. And I…” His eyes gleamed, scarlet and tricksy. “I move where others cannot. I silence those who speak against him and gather secrets others attempt to hide. We are the true pillars of Rune’s rule, and without us, his court would crumble into chaos.”
The pride in his voice was unmistakable, the arrogance thick as smoke. But then Deimos caught himself and his grin faded as he glanced at the wall where the door had been.
Alora was tempted to press but she had learned enough. The Harbingers weren’t merely soldiers. They were the bones ofRune’s power, and the whips that kept the Court of Sin and Ruin in line.
And Rune trusted them fully, enough to allow them in her presence.
“What of the others?” she asked next. “The ones who sat apart in the balcony. Who are they?”
For once, Deimos’s arrogance faltered. His mouth thinned, and his tail gave a sharp lash against the stone floor. “Seven Hells,” he cursed under his breath.
Alora waited patiently, sensing they were important.
“They are the Dominions,” Deimos said at last. “Princes of the Dark some call them. They are Lords who rule the seven factions within the Netherworld.”
She raised her brows, intrigued by this new information.
“That is all I will tell you.”
Alora frowned. “You were so eager to boast a moment ago. Can I at least know what they are called?”
Deimos leaned forward, eyes gleaming with a hard edge. “We do not speak theirnames,” he hissed. “Not unless you wish to summon them into this chamber.”
A shiver crawled up her spine. He wasn’t mocking now. He wasafraid. The mountain stirred faintly at his warning, as if listening. If a Harbinger feared them, then the Dominions were something far worse.
Alora glanced around the chamber, at the moss-covered walls, the stone that shifted to her will. “This place,” she murmured. “It listens. Moves when I ask it. What is it? A prison? A beast?”
Deimos tsked, relaxing now that she’d changed the subject. “You really do not know, do you?”
“Know what?”
His smile revealed small fangs. “Karag Dûr is no mere castle, Queen. It is a segment of my sire’s consciousness. You walk inthe mind of a god. Even though it does occasionally act of its own accord, every stone, every shadow ishim.”
Alora’s breath stilled.
He leaned forward, voice dropping. “So be wary of what you ask, even in your mind. For the mountain hears. And it always obeys him first.”
