“No, but they’ll agree it’s a hell of a risk to bring a changeling directly in front of the queen that would rather see them slaughtered. Dorian loves the little bloodsucker, maybe even more than he does us at this point. He’ll understand.”
“And Atlas? You think he’ll do well with being left behind?” His tone isn’t cruel, but it hits its mark nonetheless.
Heading back to the kitchen, I wait until we’re back with the others before answering him. “No, but if it’s just the four of us against the world, how can we leave a man behind to face things alone?”
I update the others on our conversation and naturally it devolves into a mild argument. Biting the inside of my cheek, I wait until they all come to the same inevitable conclusion that I did. It sucks, it’s none of our first choice, but ultimately, likely the best one.
“An hour,” Atlas decrees, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “If you two aren’t back, to hell with it, we’re meeting you there.”
Dorian rests his chin on his folded arms, leaning on the table. Azazel slithers onto his head like a coiled yamaka, and I just shake my head. “You were the one that pushed so hard to come here, remember?” he points out and Atlas simply shrugs.
“Yeah, because it was our best option at the time. Doesn’t mean I trust anyone here; it’s too culty for my liking. Though I’ll admit, I’ve never seen better behaved citizens.” As if a thought suddenly occurs to him, he jerks his head towards Lucien. “First sign she’s eventryingto send out feelers to see if she can get through to either of you, pull out and we’ll leave.”
I sigh, but know he’s right. “Where would we go?”
Lucien takes my hand, kissing the back of it and leading me towards the front door with a nod of agreement to Atlas. “One thing at a time, we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
With a small wave to the others, we head out, only to find the messenger leaning against the house across the street. She doesn’t say a word, just wears that bored, indifferent expression on her face. Without so much as a word, she turns on her heel to lead the way towards where Achlys’ is waiting, assuming we’ll follow.
And I hate her, just a little bit, for that arrogance. But I respect her for being one of the few people around here to have the backbone to pull it off.
Weaving between the buildings, we’re led to the heart of the city. I can’t even call it a mansion, much less a castle, and despite Achlys’ casual nature, I’m still surprised. Hewn from solid grey stone, the exterior is coated in more plants than any I’ve seen here thus far. The vines have various blooms sprouting as they intertwine to make a living net over the entire thing, as if attempting to mask the fact that it’s a home and not just another hill.
We’re led inside and I glance around, not quite sure what I expected to find. As opulent and ornate as I would expect of anyone in a position of power, but the rooms don’t resonate with residual terror, or even joy. Just a huge, gorgeous home that feels...empty. No spirit, no life, despite the dozen people I’ve already spotted. Servants, guards, and a solitary queen, currently lounging on a small couch off to our left.
Achlys takes a sip of her tea, the glowing tattoos coating her skin seeming to swirl before our eyes. They have a life of their own, shimmering like a living river of magical ink, ever restless. Her braid rests on her shoulder, the color so deep that it’s practically blue. And those dark eyes, lighting up as soon as she meets my gaze.
“I knew you’d be everything I imagined,” she purrs and Lucien goes rigid beside me.
“Is that why you refused to send anyone to search for them? It was just some sort of test to you?” His voice is deadly calm, and though the guards around Achlys narrow their eyes and drift closer to their queen, I’m relieved.Thisis the Lucien I know; dangerously calm and analytic.
Achlys simply watches, not getting to her feet, implicitly trusting everyone around her. That, or in her own hidden power. With the way her tattoos gleam against her dark skin, adding more shadows to the room, I’m under no delusions that the small bit of compulsion we’ve witnessed her use is the limit of her abilities. Birthright isn’t enough to hold a throne.
“Where would you have had me start?” she challenges, setting her cup down on the coffee table. “We were unsure of even the general direction she may have ended up in. And with as many light court soldiers as we’ve had testing the borders, I couldn’t spare the bodies without knowing where to retrieve her from.”
Yet Luce isn’t placated easily, and if there’s one thing he’s never been able to tolerate, it’s a condescending tone. “Don’t patronize me. I’d like to imagine a woman of your standing values respect that’s earned rather than demanded.”
You could hear a pin drop, it becomes so ominously quiet. I brush my fingers over the back of his hand, silently warning him to rein it back in a bit. It doesn’t have the same effect as it might have on the others, but as I withdraw, he follows. Capturing my hand, he interlocks our fingers before raising it to kiss my knuckles, moving towards the free couch.
It must kill him, but he sits down, lowering himself to her level and appearing as less of a threat. It puts us at a disadvantage, this position, but unless wewanta fight, it’s the smart move.
He exhales a long breath before a feral smile transforms his face. “Apologies. These new abilities, you know.”
She nods, waving a hand and brushing the entire thing away. “Of course. You’ve not the years the rest of us have to master your...gifts.”
In a cooler tone that appears far more friendly, which actually leaves me more unnerved, he asks, “So then why when youwereaware of where Cambria was, did you never bother to retrieve her? To save her from Elorie and inform her of the truth?”
It’s a saccharine insult, and honestly, if any of us in the room were built to navigate the treacherous dance of royalty, it’d be Lucien. Years of playing the political song and dance, of working his way up from the bottom with nothing short of cold determination.
Achlys’ lips press into a thin line. “It would have been a slaughter, sending my people into the heart of that viper’s nest.”
Lucien opens his mouth and I put a hand on his thigh, squeezing it in warning. I can practically hear the words he was about to spit.Yet you expect her to do it for you.
“I assume since you summoned me, there’s something you wished to discuss?”
Tongue in cheek, she composes herself. “Your consorts are a joy as always, Cambria.”
“Mates.” I don’t even hesitate, not where they’re concerned. “As I’ve said before, they aren’t beneath me.” I smirk to soften the bark of my tone. “Unless they wish to be.”
