Page 81 of Shadows and Flames
Elián’s presence and scent, still of cinnamon and burning oak, were the only things keeping me from storming the dais and plunging a dagger right between the bitch’s eyes. Tana’s lavender lulled me toward a state somewhere adjacent to calm. The true cool grounding of Rhaea’s Death was gone, as if the shadow, the one I’d been born with and had been in-step with all my life, had disappeared. I was here, but my experience of this world was… incomplete.
“Your Majesty.” When had Blackwood stepped forward? The rest of us hung back, allowing our employer this moment, as he’d commanded during our meeting. “I come in the stead of Paschal Von Herron. The one you arranged trade with for our world. I wish to seek a similar arrangement. One that benefits the both of us.”
It was still unclear whether she was blind or not, but either way, she had no trouble tracking Blackwood’s slow advance to the place others had taken to address their queen.
We both flinched, me and Blackwood, when Francie released a scream so loud it transcended the gag over her mouth. She darted, making to leap at Blackwood, to drain him dry. But, of course, the collar around her neck halted her descent, turning her cry of hunger to one of fury and pain.
The queen was unperturbed, not even stirring as she held the leash, and I’d seen more than enough. I twisted, using the shock of the moment to slip out of Elián’s grasp. I dropped to a crouch and darted through the crowd.
He was running after me, and so was Tana, but the guards also reacted to my rushing the dais. As fast as any Lylithan or Vyrkos, they formed a wall in front of the royal family, Francie, and the sentient bear, swords pointed right for our throats.
I hissed, daggers drawn. “Francie! We are here for you. We will take you home to your mate.”
I heard the shudder of metal on leather, the others drawing their weapons, and I ran over our odds. We were still woefully disadvantaged, unaware of their strengths as well as their weaknesses. Hopefully, they were in a similar position.
I selected the guard I was going to take down first, the one standing directly between me and Francie, but Queen Sarya’s calm, commanding voice stopped that, too. “Guards. Fall back. I wish to speak to the Raouga.”
They did not hesitate, nor did I relax as I came face-to-face, near eye level, with the queen of this realm. “I came for her.” I indicated my kind, sweet friend with a jut of my chin, another crack spider-spreading across my heart as I watched her cower and bear her fangs at me. Us. Lylithans who, to her, were standing before the mortal, maybe staking claim on him.
The sharp points of the queen’s bone crown arced as she considered me. Her gaze was pinning and expansive at once, and her amusement had a razor edge, as sharp as her fangs. “May I have your name, traveler?”
A creak rang, from the shift of one of the royal children as they leaned forward in interest. The ones beside them looked just as hungry for my answer. With narrowed eyes, I returned the queen’s stare and barely held myself back from spitting at her slippered feet. I didn’t want such evil to know me at all. For some reason, what came out of my mouth was, “You can call me Em.”
One of the children, the one who leaned forward, pouted, and the queen’s stained-glass wings fluttered, though her expressiondid not change. “Em. You travel from your land for my pet. The one who stole from me.”
I twirled my blades, and she did not miss the action. “Bullshit.”
A cackle bubbled up her throat, one she sent to the ceiling and sky beyond, and just to anger me, she tugged on the leash, pulling Francie by her neck and drawing a whimper from her.
“She has, despite the letter we left at her home. Ninety-four days passed, and I’ve yet to have what’s mine returned.”
Ninety—days? What was she on about? The only letter Whitley received, the one Francie’s takers left as they forcibly removed her from herhome, was fromthree yearsago.
“That cannot be. She is a teacher of orphaned babes in our world, and you havestolen her. You are either mistaken or a fucking liar.”
Gasps rang all around me, but Sarya silenced them all by raising her hand. Her voice dropped an octave. Twisted. “You call me liar?”
“Yeah, I’m calling you a liar and a sadistic fucking bitch.” I pointed the tip of my dagger right at her heart. “You torture her fornothing.”
The beating of air was my only warning, the only signal before she was standing right in front of me. Looking down at me whilst our toes were almost touching. I did not show weakness, and there was no fear left.
This queen of bones smelled of the wind through the trees. Icy morning dew. But when she grinned down at me, mouth splitting unnaturally wide through her cheeks, her breath smelled fucking rotten.
“I cannot lie, tiny Raouga. But the rest of your assessment may be quite true.”
I was about to jab her in her fucking throat. If I’d had access to my Death, she would be a hollowed husk already, as well aseach of her sniveling children. But, no, Rhaea had left me once again.
“And what, pray tell, did a genial caregiver steal from you?”
The Queen raised a finger, one sporting diamonds and pearls, making to caress the edge of my face. She did not make contact with my skin, but it was close enough. I raised my weapon, landing the tip at the low cut of her gown. The blade frayed a few fibers of the fabric, snapping like broken lute strings.
She hummed a pleasant note. “The Royal Bracelet of my mother, Queen Amitola, may she rest among the stars. It was stolen many years ago, and on its way back to me, it was stolen again.”
“All—you torture the wrong person, all for a piece of jewelry?”
That grin returned. “Yes.”
I cut my eyes around me in the span of a blink, assessing the guards ready to take me down, my cousin and lover behind me, and Francie cowering against the throne, cerulean blue eyes wide and wary. “You said that youcannotlie.”
