I grabbed her wrist. “You should have told me,” I growled.
Veyka did not waver. “You would have tried to stop me.”
“Because you are wrong.”
She cut her eyes to me, spearing me with those shards of blue ice.
I did not flinch, my grip on her wrist tightening. “We rule together.”
Her eyes flashed again. “You cannot decide to play king when it suits you. You are either my mate and king, or you are not.”
She ripped her hand away—too easily. Like I’d never really had her at all.
“Osheen, step forward and receive the amorite,” Veyka yelled.
The hall quieted again. Waiting.
Osheen stepped forward, ever the dutiful soldier. Cyara was there, handing Veyka a needle heated with the handmaiden’s flame. Another few seconds and it was over, a small amorite stud winking in Osheen’s earlobe.
Barkke stepped forward next.
I wanted to strangle her.
So fucking clever. She’d seen Osheen, seen the warm welcome he received, and seized her opportunity. But it did not change the fact that she was wrong. Or that she had not trusted me enough to share her plans, however quickly they’d come together.
She could speak into my fucking mind. But she’d chosen not to.
More terrestrials came forward. Veyka did each piercing herself. A queen, serving her subjects. My father. Male aftermale. Until the crowed parted and revealed a line of unmoving males.
I stepped closer to Veyka.
“Come,” Veyka purred, licking her lower lip. “I promise to be gentle.”
None of the males’ eyes flared with desire. None of them moved. Lyrena shifted closer.
The eight males held a solid, unmoving line. I recognized none of them, but that meant little. I had not been to Eilean Gayl in decades. The one at the center looked oldest, though they were all young. It was he who spoke.
“We have seen no evidence of this supposed darkness.”
Lyrena dropped a not-so-casual hand to her sword. Veyka merely cocked her head to the side.
“Nor have any of you graced the halls of the Goldstone Palace. And yet, the Gremog waits to taste your flesh, just the same,” she said.
A velvet wrapped threat. Veyka did love violence.
Still, the males did not move.
“Come,” Veyka said again. Her voice made the promise—she would not ask a third time.
No movement.
Lyrena drew her sword. “Your Queen gave you a command.”
The leader smiled.
This was what Veyka had meant. A queen, but to many terrestrials, in name only. She needed me at her side. Not only as her mate, but to make good on an agreement made seven thousand years ago by the Ancestors.
Veyka handed the needle back to Cyara and pulled the drawstring on the pouch of amorite.
