Page 69 of When the Wicked Sing
They laughed, but Kosta’s eyes told Dax he wouldn’t let it go.
Truthfully, Dax didn’t want to talk about Mari at all, to anyone. He was trying to protect her, to keep curious eyes and minds as far away as possible.
Protective and possessive are two different things.
Clearing his throat, Dax shrugged and replied, “There were a few roadblocks along the way.”
“Well, I can’t wait to read that report.”
Dax couldn’t help grinding his teeth as he gave a tight-lipped smile.
“Agreed,” a melodic, feminine voice purred from the door, and both males stood up straight as Halia waltzed in. “Although, we don’t want any prying eyes to acquire such information. Perhaps we shall have a verbal debrief instead, Dax?”
Dax inclined his head. “Of course, Your Highness.”
Halia’s maple eyes shifted between them, making them both unsteady.
“Now that the siren is here, I want to make it very clear that this is to be kept strictly confidential.” When they both agreed, Halia smiled. “Good. Please excuse us, lieutenant. Dax, come with me.”
Dax threw Kosta a look that said, See you later, if I survive this, and followed Halia to the door.
He kept his gaze straight ahead and not on the sensual sway of Halia’s hips, like he knew she’d hoped. He wasn’t surprised by the act; Halia had made it clear over the years that she would’ve taken him into her bed whenever he liked. Unfortunately for her, arrogance was a turn-off. And despite her efforts to hide the truth, Dax knew who her heart truly belonged to.
Each click of her heels on the polished floor made him want to flee, but he continued following her to her study. Once inside, Halia shut the door with a soft click.
Although Halia gave off the impression that she craved Dax’s desire, the only person she truly cared about was the female dressed in white sitting in a burgundy velvet chair across the room.
Ophelia was a Seer and one of the last known descendants of General Minerva. Though she reigned from House Spirit, she knew very little of her abilities other than the few things mentioned in ancient texts, since no one alive could teach her. She mostly listened to spirits that told her the secrets locked behind closed doors or conjured the occasional spirit shadow, like the one Cyrus had said was a gift from the Matriarch, which had been pulled from the Veil by Ophelia.
She did anything and everything the princess asked of her.
Halia sat down at her grand, pale oak desk, detailed with gold lines, and regarded them with a scrutinizing stare. She gestured for Dax to sit beside Ophelia, and he reluctantly obliged.
“I want the amulet secured as fast as possible. And I want you two to get Mariana to find out exactly where her sister went.”
Dax held back a scoff. “Do you honestly think Astra would’ve kept anything that revealed the location here in the palace for justanyoneto find?”
Halia shook her head and lightly threaded her fingers together in front of her. “Not just anyone. Mariana. She knew I was going to have her sister brought here, and I’m willing to bet she left her some indication about where the amulet is.”
“There has to be something in the library,” Ophelia noted softly. “That’s where Astra was searching before …” She let the rest of her words hang in the air. Then she cleared her throat, and her eyes shifted with uncertainty between Halia and Dax. “I’ll bring Mariana some food and get it started.” She stood.
“Wait,” Dax blurted, and averted his gaze. “Just … make sure you don’t give her any meat.”
Ophelia gave him a small smile and a nod before quietly leaving the study with soft steps.
When they were alone, Halia stood and walked over to a tall mirror hanging above a burning marble fireplace. She ran her fingers through her hair as she glanced at him in the reflection.
“Speak freely.”
Dax heard it. The shift in her voice revealed that she was the cold-blooded Matriarch beneath her pretty golden exterior.
Whether that title had been given to her by her cohorts, her victims, or she’d bestowed it upon herself didn’t matter. Halia was proud when she heard it whispered under people’s breath in the dead of night, like a prayer, or under the bright sun like a curse. And it kept her illicit schemes secret from her father.
Two summers ago, when a diplomat was found murdered in his home, the Matriarch had been the primary suspect. KingStavros ordered his spies to identify the culprit, but nothing was found. The Matriarch was just a phantom in the wind and a slice to the throat when no one was looking. Despite Halia’s claim that she wasn’t involved in the diplomat’s death when Dax asked her, he knew there had been a quarrel between the two before the incident. Like everything the Matriarch got involved in, the truth was washed away along with the blood she hired someone to spill.
Dax bit the inside of his cheek. “Why did you send Cyrus and those goons after us?”
“You know why,” she said, keeping her eyes steady on herself as she reapplied her lipstick.
