Darion Thorne had only been inside her palace for a few minutes and yet nothing felt the same. Anxious energy buzzed throughout, attendants and guards whispering in the shadows of the open-air galleries and colonnades about the dark stranger their queen had permitted past the veil. With the exception of her legion soldiers, few of the realm’s inhabitants had ever so much seen an outsider, human or otherwise.
They were right to be concerned. At the moment she was questioning her own sanity.
A Breed male inside the realm.
What had she been thinking?
Selene strode briskly under the high arches of the corridor, heading for the stairs that led up to her residence floor. She entered the sprawling private chambers, seeking out one of the many tranquil salons nestled within the royal suites. She didn’t slow her pace until she was safely ensconced inside.
Her ceremonial crown weighed like it was crafted of lead. The fitted golden vest cinching her waist and lifting her breasts was a constriction she couldn’t bear for another second.
She pulled frantically at the laces that held it closed, unable to breathe until the damned thing fell away. Her crown came off next, ripped from her head and tossed onto a cushioned, velvet chair.
She was only inside for a handful of moments before a rap sounded on the main door outside. There were few with the permission to disturb her, so she was hardly surprised to find Sebathiel waiting on the other side.
He held the titanium box Darion had brought with him. Seb’s brows rose in question as he extended the box to her. “I found this on the dais.”
She took it from him without comment.
“May we talk, Your Grace?”
“Come in,” she replied tonelessly, pivoting away. She strode farther into the room with Sebathiel trailing behind her.
“You should have told me you were planning this,” he said with concern and no small measure of disbelief. “I should have been with you to confront the warrior.”
“I handled him well enough on my own.”
“So I heard,” Seb replied. “Yurec told me he’s taking him to Soraya’s tower.”
Selene winced before turning to look at Sebathiel. When she spoke, her voice was quiet with remembered pain. “Don’t call it that.”
She should have torn down the charred ruin ages ago, but she just . . . couldn’t. No matter how the sight of it still cleaved her heart, she’d kept it standing. It was the only thing she had left of her cherished daughter after Jordana had been stolen away from the realm.
Now, the awful tower had another use.
“It’s not like you to take these kinds of chances, Selene.” Sebathiel stepped closer to her, studying her too closely. “It’s one thing to hold Jordana here, but an outsider? A Breed male who’s not only an Order warrior but the son of Lucan Thorne?”
“What’s done is done, Seb.”
He glanced at the empty titanium box in her hands. “I have to say I’m shocked you haven’t killed him.”
“The night is young,” she said, placing the box on a nearby table.
“If you wish, I will get rid of him for you.”
“No.” When Sebathiel’s brows rose at her swift refusal she added, “We still need the Order’s crystal. Now, I have new leverage to persuade them to give it up.”
“I’m still not convinced that keeping one of the Breed here in our realm is wise.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need to convince you,” she replied. “I’m doing what I need to formyrealm. Formypeople.”
Ordinarily, that chilly tone and none-too-subtle reminder of his station would be enough for Sebathiel to back down. Tonight, it was clear his apprehension over Darion’s presence troubled him even more than the thought of displeasing his queen.
“Your Grace, do you truly want to invite war with the Order?”
No, she did not. Particularly when she still had just one crystal in her possession. The last thing she wanted was to place her people in harm’s way or jeopardize the world she’d given so much and strived so hard to create for them all.
Unfortunately, she may have already lit the flame in taking Jordana.
