Page 51 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

So, any one of them could’ve been mistaken for the queen, if one had never seen the queen before.

If one had never met Pyre.

Her royalty showed not only in her features, but in her posture. Straight and regal, her broad shoulders and muscular arms filling out her blouse as if they knew exactly what they were doing even when they weren’t being used to bash heads in. Even her blouse demanded the attention worthy of a monarch—gold, with what looked like the scales of a dragon layered from the neckline, across her chest, and draped over her shoulder. Her expression, though not unfriendly, suggested she was not there to make friends. She was a soldier first, who had become a tyrant queen through violence committed by her own hand. She was definitely a power to rival any one of Theora’s Warriors.

Just…hopefully not Argos.

Venita sat at the negotiation table while Theora lingered with Argos, hands folded on the table as was customary at a peace talk, as rude as that seemed. Theora sat in the center chair Argos pulled out for her, forcing herself not to look at the metal wristbands Pyre wore. Security at the door had put them on her, no doubt, since she had weapons that were as much part of her body as Argos’s fangs were part of his—her stingers. Long, sharp bones that could be released from every Vespulan’s wrists. All the women, at least.

The weapon that had killed Leveya.

Theora’s scar began to itch from the memory, but she gripped her hands, as Venita did, instead of attending to it. She glanced at Argos, who was entirely too quiet, as if waiting on prey. Dread Sovereign, please don’t attack anyone…not first, anyway.

“To business.” The Judge Imperium stepped up to her podium. She was a short woman in her seventies, her mostly white bun extra bright against her beautiful dark brown skin. “I see some new items have been added since the peace talks were requested, which leads me to believe that Queen Pyre may not be as serious about her plea for peace as her application implies. I’d like to address those first.

“Item One: An Aranean silk trading post was seized by Vespulan troops. How do you plead on this count?”

“Not guilty,” Pyre said.

Theora gripped her folded hands. “The Exalted One’s apology letter states otherwise.”

“My apology letter states that the troops were not under orders to act, and that they’ve been disciplined. I have a copy of it if you’d like to refresh your memory.”

“I don’t need to read your lies over again, thank you.”

Venita grabbed Theora’s hand to remind her to shut up, but the judge was one step ahead of her. “That’s a baseless accusation that will be stricken from the record. Piper, read the letter for us, please.”

The assistant did so, and the judge turned to the Aranean side of the table. “And were there any damages?”

“None to the physical post,” Venita said, “but our workers did suffer a fair bit of physical and emotional stress, and because of that, trade was delayed for about a week. I’ve submitted their statements and psychological evaluations, as well as their workforce progress reports.”

Piper handed the judge the paperwork as Venita spoke, and she took a moment to look the reports over.

“They will be compensated,” the judge said. “Queen Pyre Amani will pay twenty-five thousand to you. Any comments before we close out Item One?”

The table was silent, and it took every bit of will in Theora’s body to keep herself that way.

“Item Two: the murder of Vespulan war commander Kenzi Amani. How do you plead?”

“Murder?” Venita asked, her brows furrowed. “Absolutely not guilty. When did this happen?”

“Short memory,” Pyre said with a slight raise of her brow.

“Are you saying you were unaware of this event?” the judge said to Venita and Theora, although she shot Pyre a warning look.

Venita sighed heavily. “I’m sorry if it seems we’re underprepared, but we had a very long train ride this morning. If news of it circulated, we missed it.”

Pyre had one ice-cold blue eye and one warm brown one—a mesmerizing, unnerving feature when paired with a glare. This time, it wasn’t directed at Venita. “We have evidence that says otherwise. You may want to rethink your response.”

“Our response stands.” Theora leveled an equal glare at the evil queen. She was clearly a force to be reckoned with, but all she was spouting now were words and glares, and Theora had never been afraid of those. “Not guilty.”

“For what it’s worth,” Venita cut in, her tone significantly less cold than Theora’s, “my queen and our colony are incredibly sorry for your loss.”

“It would be worth everything, indeed,” Pyre said, “if I actually believed you.”

“Utter nonsense,” Theora scoffed, though her heart was pounding—why did Pyre have to be so suspicious? Why did it feel like Theora’s worst fears were coming true? “Why would we have anything to do with the death of one of your personnel?”

“We have hunting logs for all our Warriors,” Venita added, which only made Theora’s temples pound harder. “They were all accounted for last night. Their handler would’ve informed me if they weren’t.”