Page 176 of The Myths of Ophelia
Santorina snorted, unfazed by the bait. “Gods, no. Only wondering where the line is drawn.”
“I think the line of fae morals is not what we’re here to discuss,” Ophelia said, looking between the two of them with a creased brow.
Thieves were dishonest.
Apparently that was where Lancaster’s boundary stood. If fae really could not lie, only twist their words, was dishonesty truly the problem? Or maybe it was loyalty and trustworthiness. Trickiness against the vulnerable.
Lancaster still had that bargain with Ophelia and me. One he could use against us any day—and we him. One that if any of us broke, our lives were taken with it. And he had not tried to trick us, even when it was supposedly in his nature to do so.
In fact, Lancaster had been on Gallantia for months, and we’d heard nothing of it. He’d found and befriended Mindshaper rebels, helping us locate them during the war in the winter, but beyond that, he’d kept to himself. Hadn’t tried to hurt any innocents, besides the time he held a knife to Rina’s throat. And though I wouldn’t forget that, perhaps the damn fae was trustworthy after all?
Or it was all a trick. I supposed only the Fates could know. My gaze flicked to Vale, her eyes still swirling silver. Maybe tomorrow she could seek out the fae goddess in those readings. We could see if the Fates would finally share about her.
For now, though, we had an interrogation to get underway.
Santorina and Lancaster continued to spew barbs, but the fae male pushed up from Brystin’s chair and took a step back, crossing his arms. “Did she send you?”
“Of course,” Brystin scoffed.
“Why?”
But Brystin’s gaze swiveled to Ophelia. “Do you care to fill him in?”
She assessed him, looking right down her nose with those bloody fingers drumming on her arm. “Your queen doesn’t trust me.”
A grin. “Not in the slightest.”
“She’s smart, then,” Ophelia retorted.
And it wasn’t a joke. Both Ritalia and Ophelia were too wise to easily trust the other. Not without proof. Even when you could not lie, word only went so far. Ritalia, ruler for centuries and manipulator of secrets, likely guessed as much.
“She realizes this won’t make us any more likely to give her what she wants doesn’t she?” I asked.
“Her Majesty has grown unconcerned with a peaceful partnership, so long as she gets the outcome she desires.”
My skin prickled at that vague explanation, gaze cutting to Lancaster and Mora. The former’s attention was still locked on the fae bound before us, but Mora watched Ophelia curiously. Almost…admiringly?
“What’s changed?” Ophelia asked harshly.
“Who said anything has?” Brystin smirked, still as casual and unaffected as always. “Perhaps this has always been her plan.”
Lancaster and Mora exchanged a brief, confused look, and Cypherion tracked it. “It wasn’t.” He looked to Ophelia. “Ritalia is pivoting. Otherwise, she would have had Lancaster and Mora steal the emblems.”
The former snapped, “I wouldn’t sink?—”
“Shut up,” Ophelia barked, looking among all three of the fae. “I’m not sure I trust any of you right now. We might be better off impaling you all with cypher stakes and leaving you locked in this room.”
“Sweet Mystique,” Mora cooed, “you’d have to prepare those lovely weapons first.”
Ophelia flashed her a saccharine smile. “Who says I haven’t already?”
She very well could have them hidden in this room somewhere. I hadn’t realized she tucked the one beneath our pillows tonight.
But Ophelia only waved a hand at Mora and Lancaster. “You two may stay for now since you’ve been genuinely helpful, but we’re watching you closely.” As she said it, the energy in the room shifted. None of us moved closer to the fae, but it was like everybody angled slightly, every hand drifted closer to a weapon. On the word of the Revered, any of us—Mystique, Soulguider, Starsearcher, or Engrossian—would strike.
“What I’m curious about, Brystin,” Ophelia continued, turning back to the male, “is why you’re herenow. You’ve been trailing us since we left Valyn.” One blink was all that belied his shock, but Ophelia didn’t miss it. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. My pegasus was unsettled, and I thought I saw you in the pleasure house last night. So briefly, I wasn’t sure who it was, just someone familiar.”
“Was it you?” Jezebel blurted, striding forward. “Did you kill that warrior?” Her question landed with a heavy silence.
