She did not wait for me to join her on the next stair.
Nor did I move from mine. “Kings and queens have thrones.”
Do I need to kill her as well?I asked Arran’s beast.
“Seats,” she amended. But Morgause’s gaze did not linger on me. It slid over my shoulder and settled on Arran, standing of a height with me a stair below.
She could not have disguised the glow of desire in her eyes if she’d tried. The curse of our passionate race afflicted the terrestrials and elementals indiscriminately.
Arran’s voice did not radiate into my mind.
Oh.
Oh.
This female did not justwantmy husband. She’dhadhim before.
Do not kill her yet, Arran’s beast growled into my mind.
Apparently, I did not make my point clear when I kissed you outside of the fortress.I was not jealous. Jealousy implied some sort of fear of losing, of competition. I’d watched Morgause’s bony ass all the way up the first two flights of stairs into the dark heart of Cayltay. I’d felt Arran’s love for me through the bond before I could recognize my own.
Jealous was the wrong word.
Pity—no, not quite. She was much too smug to pity.
Anger, certainly. Maybe even rage. Arran wasmine. Any being, elemental or terrestrial, who thought to challenge that deserved to die.
The pressure of Arran’s hand on my waist increased, nudging me up the stairs.
Morgause resumed her climb. Up and up and up. We had to be going to the highest tower, the one whose tip was hidden by the clouds from the ground outside the fortress. One of the Dyad was probably a bird shifter who liked to roost.
I was laughing at my own joke as Arran’s dark rumble continued to explain terrestrial governance, more for Lyrena and Isolde’s benefit than mine. “They kill their way to the top. The last one of each type standing is granted a seat on the Dyad.”
Isolde was quiet, but Lyrena, sword still out, questioned. “And they keep their seat until…”
“Someone challenges them for it and wins,” Arran answered.
“It sounds delightfully chaotic.”
I knew if I turned around, I’d see Lyrena’s gold tooth glinting through a massive grin. She’d be drinking with the terrestrials in the kitchens of Cayltay before the week was out. Fortress or no, my golden knight could charm—and disarm—anyone.
Just like the gate into the massive fortress, the door to the Dyad’s meeting chamber was unremarkable. Plain wood. No engravings. No jewels. Not even the tasteful tapestries and gold gilt frames that Lady Elayne used to decorate Eilean Gayl. Theonly thing that mattered in Cayltay was power and strength. The stark appearance, inside and out, was a reminder of that.
The chamber inside was equally bare. But for the first time since entering Cayltay, the austerity worked to enhance the impact of the space. The walls were not made of stone, but glass, rising up in straight, triangular planes to where they met in a pointed dome high above our heads. Outside the windows, clouds encircled the tower in a swath of white.
In the center of the room stood a round table—less grand than my own, made of wood rather than stone—several matched wooden chairs, and two wooden thrones. Like everything else, they were plain, their only decoration the sheer size of them. And the fact that there was no other furniture in the room.
Seats. Morgause had the right of it the first time. The Dyad imagined themselves kings and queens in their own kingdom.
Maybe I’d have Lyrena burn the thrones before we left Cayltay as a reminder.
Neither throne was occupied. But a massive male stood beside them, his yellow gold eyes marking every one of us as we passed through the door. He was shorter than Arran, but wider. Despite the cold, he wore a sleeveless leather tunic that left his massive biceps, nearly the size of one of my thighs, bare except for the weapons strapped to them.
He was the only occupant of the room. Which meant—
“I am the flora-gifted half of the Dyad,” Morgause said. She moved over the stone floor like liquid, her dark blue gown shifting around her. Unlike most of the terrestrial females, she’d opted for heavy silk and velvet instead of wool.
She’d been building to this since the moment she appeared in the inner bailey. Arran made no sound of surprise; nor did Lyrena or Barkke. They’d both likely suspected as much, though each for their own reasons. Lyrena was an elemental. Reading between the lines was beaten into her from birth. Despite havingnever traveled to Cayltay himself, Barkke was a terrestrial. Even as removed as Eilean Gayl was, they surely received news about major changes in government officials.
