My gaze flicks to Venna, who nods.
Noemi, still restrained but no longer struggling, spits out words as if they’re poisonous. “You deserve todie.”
I am shocked by how wild she appears. Since the moment we were first introduced, Noemi has only ever given off a sense of calm, purposeful elegance. Whoever that woman was, she’s gone, replaced by whatever has been living quietly underneath the surface this whole time.
“I refuse to stand by and watch him parade women around likecattle!” she shouts, wrenching in the guards’ grip. “Feeding off them as if they’re nothing but meat!”
Her gaze darts to me and then to Stark. He moves purposefully toward her, hands up as if he were facing a feral direwolf.
Noemi sucks in a quick breath, and she doesn’t use it to yell again. But the rushed exhale of her words carries so much emotion that she may as well be screaming.
“How can you seriously consider an alliance with evil, perverted beasts who treat humans like this?”
A cool chuckle slips between Lucien’s lips. He drags a fingertip through his own blood where it’s drying on his skin, a soft smile emerging.
“You thoughtyoucould kill me? A thousand-year-old Siphon king who has survived five centuries of assassination attempts by much more formidable opponents, including my ownbrother?” He scoffs and examines the blood on his fingers, rubbing it with his thumb. “It’s insanity. You are truly lucky I found your attack more entertaining than threatening or you would already be dead.”
A pulse of rage explodes from Noemi, and Stark’s fury is white-hot in my mind. I lock it out of my consciousness, sending up my mental barriers for the first time tonight. I need all my focus on Lucien. Right now, there’s genuine anger behind his amusement.
He either can’t hide it entirely or doesn’t feel the need to.
“What is she playing at?” I ask Stark along the bond.“You know her best. Explain to me, seriously—why is she jeopardizing the entire reason we’re here?”
“You need to ask her yourself,” he responds, eyes meeting mine from where he stands, still close to Noemi but not instigating anything with the guards who restrain her.
His mind, brushing mine, is full of regret and guilt.
“Just… trust that she has her reasons for acting this way,” he continues.“It doesn’t excuse it. I blame myself for this; I should’ve considered the position we were putting her in by bringing her here.”
What doesthatmean?!
When Lucien’s eyes are on me again, he straightens and stands at his full height for the first time since I arrived. His tone sharpens, losing its rolling, sigh-like quality entirely. “This is no way for guests to treat their host, especially when that host is considering a historic alliance that could end centuries of war.”
Considering.It’s a veiled threat. A warning that he’s still powerful enough to snatch peace away and unleash his army on us without a Phylax in sight to protect our front lines.
Well, there’sonePhylax in sight, I guess. Assuming she survives the next ten minutes.
Venna, Stark, and I exchange glances, each looking to the other to see if anyone has some semblance of a plan.
Before I have time to open communication for the three of us mentally, Lucien flicks his hand, and his guards start to move. Two start to march Noemi away, and the rest disband to take up stations along the hall.
“Lucien,” I snap.
He raises an annoyed brow at me.
“Let me speak to her in private,” I say. After a long moment, I tack on, “Please.”
I’m not in the habit of begging for basic courtesies, but I would like to avoid Noemi losing her life on this trip.
“Fine,” he says with a sigh. He points to a small room off the entrance area to his chambers. “You can take my office. The guards will wait outside.”
Noemi rips free from the hold on her arms, her green eyes still blazing as she stomps into the office, like she isn’t the one in the wrong. I follow her, glancing back at Stark. His concern is written all over his face. He doesn’t want her hurt, either, but he knows she really fucked up.
Noemi immediately goes to a slouchy leather armchair and throws herself into it, then buries her face in her hands. Her shimmering red hair falls around her in protective waves. She starts to weep.
I close the door quietly behind us and move closer to her… but not too close, in case she decides she hasn’t stabbed enough monarchs tonight.
“What’s going on?” I ask gently.
