While Lucien is talking, Meryn curves her wrist, angling her own blade slowly. Lucien tenses as it presses firmly against his side, right between his ribs where a simple shove would plunge it into vital organs.
His eyes widen; he wasn’t expecting her to bite back.
“This is a really fucking poor example of diplomacy,” she says, lip curling. “I’m not a thrall. I would be aware if I didn’t have any control over my own mind. Whatever Alistair did with those bracelets, mine works differently.”
Lucien scoffs. “Wouldyou be aware?”
“She’s telling the truth,” I say.
“Killian has influence over my powers, not my mind,” Meryn replies coldly. “He can sap some of them away from me and access the pack bonds.”
Lucien pauses, brow relaxing slightly. And then he fluidly steps back.
The dagger leaves Meryn’s throat, and I drop mine at the same moment. Distantly, I sense Cratos’s pace slow.
Lucien sits, and the Astreonans follow. Not without staring at the rest of us likewe’rethe aggressors, though. Meryn lifts her hand and lowers it, and Venna and Noemi return to their seats just as the Siphons did.
I don’t move. I stay standing right next to her, rage still coursing through me.
When Lucien sits, he stares at her for a few seconds.
Then he calmly says, as if he didn’t just threaten Meryn’s life, “I’ve never seen a bracelet work this way before.” He’s studying her anew. Reconsidering. “I’ll need to consult with our librarians about this.”
“I have another question,” Meryn says, finally taking her seat, as do I. “Your father, in that memory, looked to be in his midfifties. King Cyril—all thekings before him, in fact, who harbored Alistair—also looked middle-aged. But you’re hundreds of years old and you look young. How does it work?”
“I’m a thousand years old, actually,” he says snidely. He points to the rings in his ears. “We wear one for every hundred years.” I see now—five rings in each ear, ten total.
Elias wears one, so he must be a hundred years old. Ruby wore four; four hundred years.
“Thanks for the fashion lesson, but the aging?” Meryn says.
Lucien leans back in his chair. “The Siphon aging process is different from the human one, yes. We age at the same pace as humans until we’re in our early twenties, and then it slows greatly. However, our appearance depends on the quality of the blood we drink. With human blood, you can stay young and handsome forever.”
He waves a hand at his own extremely punchable face.
“Debatable,” Venna mutters into her food, and he sends her a scathing look. Good to know: Insulting his vanity gets under his skin.
“And if you don’t drink human blood?” Meryn prods.
Lucien eventually takes his eyes off Venna. “If you drink animal blood exclusively, yes, you will age. Your lifespan is still longer than an average human, but you will be weak. My father was an ascetic whose only mode of pleasure was self-denial. We never saw eye to eye there. I suspect the Nocturnan kings did the same in order to fool the public.”
Meryn takes a breath. “There’s a lot for us to learn about Siphon powers.”
Another amused, seductive look comes over Lucien. “If you have questions, my personal chambers are always open to you, Queen Meryn.”
Something territorial and furious bursts to life in my gut.
Lucien’s teasing glance darts to me, his grin spreading.
I hope his personal chambers are open to me, too—because I’m going to cut his eyes out while he sleeps. He’ll still be alive, but he won’t be able to look at her like that ever fucking again.
Meryn ignores his innuendo. “Okay, so you’ve shown me the truth. What are you proposing?”
Lucien leans forward, serious again. “Nocturna and Astreona do not need to be enemies. Our true enemy is Alistair Brightbane and his vessel Killian. I propose a permanent ceasefire and for our nations to become formal allies in the fight against him.”
Meryn blinks, unimpressed.
I slam a fist down on the table again, rattling all the stupidly gilded silverware, and Lucien lifts his brows. “Did you have something you wanted to interject, Alpha?” he says lazily.
