“Reptilians smell of sea salt. It’s not unusual.”
“And disinfectant.” Yes, amidst all the sensory assaults, she had detected the scent of… disinfectant. A wave of dread washed over her.
The witcher said, “Hmm? Maybe he’s in the laboratory.”
Laboratory?If the Queen had done something to him…
The man beckoned her to sit at the table. “Now we’ll eat. The magic needs fuel.”
She stood her ground. “Do you know where the laboratory is?”
The chair screeched as the witcher dragged it over the rocky surface. “I do. The Queen has summoned me to many of her hideouts. Sit.”
Reluctantly, she obeyed. Her stomach churned with anxiety, but she had to appease him – at least until she obtained the music. He placed the heart on his plate, then took his knife and fork to slice it. With surgical precision, he divided the organ into two equal halves, transferring one to her plate.
He stabbed his fork into his portion. “If you want to save your friends, you’ll have to eat your half.” Bile rose in her throat, but he added, “There are far worse things you might have to consume to leverage magic.”
Amelia reached for her fork with resolution. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but she forced herself to suppress the reaction.
Let this be worth it.
The witcher swallowed a bite. “Do you intend to activate the Sacreds?”
Amelia’s hand froze mid-air. “No. I want to understand what they are.” She needed to gather more information about theseobjects with which she shared such an inexplicable connection.
He looked at her over his plate. “They’re what make us everything we are.”
“And I suppose you know their names?”
The witcher merely smiled in response.
“Will you tell me?” she pressed.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I like you, and I don’t want to.” He resumed chewing.
19
Constantine
What an unusual move from the Queen.
She’d sent him whores.
Two exquisite beings, with sculpted bodies and provocative demeanours, hardly the kind to leave any man indifferent. One played the innocent: a sheer white dress, silvery-blonde hair, fluttering eyelashes. With a single lick of her lips, she’d shaken Constantine’s resolve. He’d vowed to defy the Queen and reject her gifts. But then again, what was the point of this obstinate defiance?
Then his gaze had shifted to the other reptilian courtesan. Coppery chestnut waves cascaded halfway down her back. She wore scant lace lingerie, similar to what Constantine had removed from countless women in his past. Lace had always been his favourite.
Yet now, he found nothing arousing in this stranger’s outfit. For her figure, her hair colour, and her slightly upturned nose – it all echoed Diana. And the only thing her memory stirred was sorrow. Loss.
“Leave!” He turned his back on them.
A moment later, the door closed. It surprised him. He’d expected more resistance from the Queen’s emissaries. Perhaps, in some twisted corner of his mind, he’d hoped for it.
Not long after the reptilians left, he sensed movement outside his room. Annoyed, he pushed himself away from the window and approached the door.