Lucien pauses. I wait. If he’s going to earn our trust, he needs to be willing to share information with us. Real information.
Giving a dramatic sigh, he finally responds. “The type of power you’re thinking of, like Alistair performed, requires incredible magical strength and constant replenishment. Most Siphons are only capable of creating illusions, as vanishing as smoke. Yes, some of us have a level of mind control ability, but only over those who are under a thrall or those we’ve recently drunk from.”
Thrall. The word wriggles into me like a parasite, sinks under my skin.
His eyes glint with self-assured amusement. “The spies that have crossed our border over the years, for instance. We capture them, drink from them, alter their memories, and send them happily back to your country.”
“What you said—under a thrall?”
“A unique connection between Siphon and human that requires an exchange of blood from both parties. But enough magical theory. I understand why you don’t want to believe me, so why don’t you let meshowyou?” Lucien says. “Let me convince you that we’re on the same side, Meryn Sturmfrost.”
Stark leans toward me protectively as Lucien reaches up and lifts the sun-bolt crown from his hair. It glints as he brings it forward.
“Put it on,” Lucien says.
I eye the Tear in the crown. It looks identical to the two I have—the one in my crown, the one around Saela’s neck. “What is this?”
“Surely you know these jewels have power?” Lucien says with a little smile.
That’s one of the few things we’ve successfully deduced so far. The crown seems to give me more magical strength when I wear it, as did Saela’s necklace. The Tears clearly have some magical properties to them.
But Saela has come up empty on any other information about them.
“Yes, I’m aware.” I want to ask more, find out if he has information about the Tears that we don’t. This is not the time for me to show Lucien any weakness, though. “I’m asking you whatyou’redoing.”
“And I already told you,” he replies, keeping his offer aloft, “I’m showing you what you want to know.”
I still don’t trust him. The magic in the stones is ancient, and so is he. Lucien might know how to use his Tear against me somehow. But his eyes are keen. He’s seen how badly I want answers, and he knows I’m going to accept.
So I stop fighting it. Reaching up, I untangle my own crown from my hair and pass it to Stark for safekeeping. Then, I take hold of Lucien’s.
The moment the metal settles over my head, I plummet. It’s just like it was when I first put on my crown, if slightly less violent, slightly blurrier.
I can’t make out nearly as many details as I did when I witnessed Queen Chiara, but judging by the pale stone and regal furniture, I’m in a room in the Astreonan castle.
Staggering slightly, I float out of my skin, then settle back into my bones.
Just as I get my bearings, there’s a soft moan from behind me. I spin around, thinking someone is wounded or dying. Readying myself for the pain of tragedies long past.
But it’s not pain I heard.
My mouth drops open and my hand flies up to block out the scene before me. I’m in a lavishly decorated bedroom, the candlelight low and flickering.
And Lucien is in flagrante with three other people on a massive bed.
There’s a woman to his left, a man to his right, and another woman between his legs. They’re all naked, and it’s just skin and bodies and sweat.
Seriously?I want to scream. The fucking bastard took me to a vision of anorgy.
What iswrongwith this guy?
I knew I was right about him. He’s messing with me. Of course he is.
He’s hundreds of years old and probably bored.
I spin back around, covering my heated cheeks with my hands and trying to unsee and unhear all of it.
The moment I turn, the door in front of me slams open against the wall so hard it bounces back and rattles. A dark-haired, older-looking woman is at the door.
