Then, “Goodbye.”
She lifted two fingers to her mouth and blew a single kiss across the room. The Slurvini dissolved into black smoke without sound or trace, leaving only Selana and the fading echo of what they had been.
Selana gasped.
Aviaryn turned to her with a small frown. “You were not nice to King Axar. And I like him. He gives me cakes.”
Axar kept his face blank.
Flag turned one of his heads toward her. “Princess, I would advise a Goodbye for her as well. She?—”
Aviaryn waved him off. “Oh Flag, you are not being fun. Nightmares will make me giggle.”
Selana pressed herself back toward the wall.
Aviaryn raised her hand again and blew a soft breath of gray mist across the room. “Nightmares for you, false queen," she said, sticking out her tongue.
It was immediate. Selana dropped to the floor, screaming into something only she could see, trapped in whatever Aviaryn had given her, cycling through it without end.
Aviaryn looked to Axar for approval. He gave her a small nod. She had chosen nightmares instead of something permanent, which meant Korakar would still have access to Selana when they needed her. For Aviaryn, it was remarkable restraint.
She turned to him properly. "King Axar. I am displeased with our current circumstances. We Umbrelai enjoy containment. Not imprisonment."
"The pits have been plentiful, Highness," he replied.
"Yes. But King Sevrin controls our people. He can use them whenever he chooses." A pause. "The queen and I are looking for something. And when we find it, I think I shall like to eat fresh food. Humans I find enticing rather than those simply provided by the pit."
Wings swept down from above. A woman with human features and great dark wings regarded them both with cold precision. "King Axar. Princess Aviaryn."
Both bowed.
"How fares Umbrelai?" the Sentinel asked.
"It has been several years since we came to power," Aviaryn said. "And Umbrelai continues to treat me with the respect a powerful savior deserves." She smiled brightly.
The Sentinel inclined her head. Flag stepped forward. "Princess, the matters of state."
Aviaryn slipped back into the dark and was gone. Flag bowed deeply and sank back through the stone.
Axar turned to the Sentinel, pouring blood into his goblet. "How fares your master?"
"He is well. Better than his father."
"That may be true. But he is still a Rathmor. And that cannot be forgiven." He paused. "The princess of Umbrelai may be useful."
The Sentinel nodded. "She may."
He laughed. "She thinks she needs to recruit us to her cause."
"I admire her spunk," the Sentinel said.
"The ability to think one is entitled to something that is not theirs is not spunk," Axar said dryly. "It is power."
CHAPTER 34
The Closet
The chamber is quiet when night closes in. I sit at the vanity, drawing the brush slowly through my hair, the steady motion meant to calm the restlessness that has not left me since morning. The fire burns low behind me, its warmth softer now, no longer demanding attention, only existing.
