Razel stepped back and dropped gracefully into her throne, lounging like a satisfied jungle cat. “Your friend is in the castle dungeons—”
“Why—”
“Don’t interrupt me.” Razel’s eyes narrowed dangerously. She turned and, in a voice smooth as Ambriellan whiskey, said, “Bring the girl.”
Shearen bowed and struck out for a door in the far corner. My eyes followed his steps with growing anxiety. He was limping.
“If you’ve hurt her—”
“I’d advise you not to threaten me either.” Razel’s tone changed, sounding almost bored. She leaned back, peering down at me like a goddess passing judgment. Her hair glowed from the firelight, but her eyes were as icy as ever.
The silence stretched. In it, my gaze switched from Razel to Ericen, who looked ready to jump out of his skin, then to Auma, whose impassive mask had started to crack. She kept casting split-second glances in the direction Shearen had gone. My mind raced my heart. Was this about the storm? Did they know about Resyries?
I checked the link between us. It hummed stronger than ever, layered with contentment. At my frantic touch, he tugged questioningly, but I pulled back.
The sharp sound of sliding metal shot through the room. Everyone except for Razel flinched, all eyes falling on her as she twirled an unsheathed moonblade around one finger. Then a door opened. I whipped around to find Shearen leading Kiva by her chain-bound hands. She had a bruised jaw, but otherwise, looked unharmed. I let out a breath. That explained Shearen’s state—he’d gotten more than he bargained for with Kiva. He’d probably needed help.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“She’s fine,” Razel answered before Kiva could speak. I caught Kiva’s eye, and she nodded before her gaze sought Auma. She took in the bruises, the scratches, the fresh blood at Auma’s shoulder, and a dangerous stillness settled over her. By the time she faced Razel, a silent, deadly promise prowled behind her eyes.
The queen rose fluidly to her feet, the moonblade clasped in one hand. I focused on keeping my feet rooted to the spot, afraid if I moved an inch, I’d charge Razel. “Are you going to explain what this is about now?”
Razel paused at the base of the dais as Shearen and Kiva arrived beside me. “That, Thia dear, is what this is about. You see, I thought you and I had come to an agreement, but it seems you are intent on pushing your limits with me.”
“What are you talking—”
Quick as a wingbeat, Razel had the moonblade at Kiva’s throat. My cry of surprise came out silent as the air evaporated from my lungs. Kiva stiffened, eyes dropping to the blade. Razel smiled, and seemingly content she had my attention, lowered the blade. Behind her, Auma had taken a step forward.
“It seems you only respond to shows of force,” Razel said. “Not surprising. I’ve come to realize power, control, and violence are most of what your people understand.”
You’re one to talk.I managed to keep the words inside my head, but I couldn’t stop my face from contorting with fury.
Razel tilted her head, considering me like a lamb for slaughter. “You think I’m the monster, don’t you? Yet you’re the ones who sent soldiers to decimate entire families, to tear them apart in front of the ones they love.”
“Those soldiers weren’t under orders—”
“Is that what your mother told you? That she didn’t know Lord Turren was planning to kill not only my family but countless Illucian innocents? Innocents like Shearen’s mother?”
Shearen paled, swallowing hard.
“Of course she didn’t,” I said.
Razel laughed. “Poor dear. You’ve been lied to. Your mother knew full well what Lord Turren was doing. She gave the order.”
My stomach flipped, and the ground tilted, even as my mind screamed she was lying.
“Enough.” Ericen’s voice was quiet but strong. I clung to it, reassuring myself Razel was only trying to get inside my head.
She rounded on him. “You’re right, Eri. That’s not why we’re here.” She twirled the moonblade, eyes roving over Kiva. “We’re here because my servant refuses to tell me what she’s done with the letter she took from my room.”
My eyes flickered to Auma, who to my surprise had shed her meek exterior entirely. She stood straight, hands clasped so tight, the knuckles had turned white, as if her hands couldn’t be trusted not to wrap themselves around the queen’s throat. Razel had clearly tried to beat the information out of her to no avail.
“What letter?” I asked.
Razel smiled dangerously. “I was hoping you’d make this difficult.”
She glided over to one of the two hearths housing a strong fire and pulled a key out of her pocket, tossing it into the flames. Tension crept up my shoulders and into the back of my neck.
