Wind rushed across the hall as the tornado faded, collapsing into a pool of blood. Vines covered everything in sight, like morbid flowers growing from a corpse pile. The men who remained standing swiftly fell as a tangle of blood vines wrapped their necks, squeezing the breath from their lungs.
Phaedrus stalked up behind the man who’d been about to skewer me and slammed the haft of a spear into his helm, dropping him. Not just any spear—the royal weapon Aethra had been intent on taking.
Blood poured from his arm—he’d cut himself deeply to cast such powerful magic.
“Where have you been?” I demanded.
“Waiting in ambush,” he panted. “I don’t have nightmares anymore.” He jerked his head. “We need to go.”
Reaching for Aethra, I took her hand and dragged her behind me. If Seth did not know what he was doing . . .
Not all of us would escape here alive.
32
Seth
Ireally hated being in the spotlight. Granted, I loved attention, but therightkind. Not the judgmental eyes of Duath Nun’s elite.
Despite their blatant stares, everyone gave me a wide berth. They returned to dancing or reformed their gossiping circles, carefully watching out of the corner of their eyes.
The woman I sought stood at the center of the ballroom, beneath the grand chandelier. But Eris was not alone—by her side was the young woman I’d glimpsed with Father.
What the fuck was his concubine doing here?
I glanced to the right and noticed Eleos and Aethra quietly moving along the ballroom’s outskirts. My eyes lingered far longer than they should have.
She looked like a goddess in that gown, her hair bound in braids and adorned with flowers. I’d give anything to spend the night dancing with her.
Percy nudged me with his spear, and I reluctantly dragged my gaze away. It landed on Eris’twisted smile.
Smoothing back my hair, I approached her, intending to knock the grin from her face.
“I’m surprised you came.” Eris smiled sweetly. “You never liked balls.”
I ignored her, instead looking at the concubine. She raised her chin and looked down on me through hooded lids. My initial read of her had been wrong—this was no poor girl. She took pride in her status.
“Rather bold of you,” I said. “Bringing Father’s whore to the Queen’s palace.”
The blonde woman’s eye twitched.
“Does he even know your name?” I asked. “There’s been so many of you, they must all blur together.”
“How very like you.” Eris twirled her wrist, examining her fingernails. “To insult Lady Euthymia on your first meeting.”
I didn’t catch when Eris had cut her finger, but I saw the faint smear of blood beneath her nail before a thin, crimson mist drifted across the ballroom. Cold moisture seeped into my skin.
“Let’s be reasonable.” Eris lowered her hand, “Father wants you home, as do I. You’re far too old to be playing the rebel.”
Nothing in her words compelled me. Good. I was still immune to her charms.
“I don’t have time for your games, Eris.” I folded my arms. “Let’s make this simple: Father gave you Ma’at’s throne, sure, but there’s just one problem: Law states that heirs have the right to challenge those without a blood claim.”
She frowned. “Do you think challenging me will solve your problems? The men follow me, not you. They think you’re young and unpredictable. You’d be deposed the moment you claimed the throne.” She extended a hand. “But enough. Shall we talk and dance?”
Ignoring her offered hand, I strode to the dance floor, trying not to scowl at the onlookers. Leaning closer, I whispered, “Your magic still doesn’t work on me.”
“It never has,” she sighed.
