Page 20 of Pirate Witch
More murmurs. More pirates reaching for their weapons.
“And will you be visiting the captain at the Goddess’s behest?” Fitz presses.
I cough out a surprised laugh. “No. At my mates’. I’m here to ask for his help on their behalf. Urgently.”
He searches my face, eyes dipping to my mating marks and then to my face and back again. “Then I suppose you’d better follow me, Lady Nilsa.” He holds out an arm, but doesn’t direct me towards the waiting boats as I expect. “The captain’s ashore at the nest of his mother-by-mating, Queen Sade.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
Fitz’s smile hasn’t dropped. “This way.”
He leads us both along the dock, then up into the city of marble, along the main streets, and up a hill until we reach a house that stands apart from the rest. It’s tall and set right on the edge of the cliff, surrounded by its own lush garden. Two vampires stand guard by the door. They’re huge, almost as large as Rysen, and they glare at me as I draw close.
Their weapons—wicked sharp glaives—lower slightly as they recognise the pirate leading us, but they don’t drop their guard.
“Fitz,” one of them says, the exasperation in his words palpable. “You know our queen doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”
“The lass is involved,” Fitz responds, and I frown.
Involved inwhat?
I don’t get a chance because the guards share a look and nod. “They’re in the lower garden.”
Fitz doesn’t wait for more. He leads us between the two of them and down around the side of the house to a lush, terraced garden, teeming with spiky grasses and exotic flowers. Having a garden like this—an area reserved solely for relaxation and beauty—is a deliberate display of wealth, one which makes me uncomfortable.
Since the arrival of the wraiths forced everyone to the coastal cities, space has always come at a premium. Most gardens are confined to roofs and reserved for the growing of practical plants like food and medicine. Whichever vampire nest Cirio mated into must be a financial powerhouse.
“Wait here,” Fitz instructs, as we come to a stop beneath a leaf-covered pergola.
He doesn’t wait to see if we follow but disappears down a set of steps, heading farther into the garden.
“Val never mentioned Cirio’s mate was part of Sade’s nest,” Klaus grumbles.
“I’ve never heard of her.” I shrug, taking a seat on the low wall and sighing. “I take it that’s a big deal?”
Klaus flashes me a small smile. “She’s queen of one of the largest nests in the world. Isablis is her city.”
I have to admit, it’s a beautiful place. From my position in the garden, I can see the rest of it below, gleaming like a jewel against the rich turquoise of the sea.
Part of me expects to be kept waiting, as a power play if nothing else. So I’m pleasantly surprised when Fitz returns just minutes later.
“Come with me,” he instructs, looking more sombre than before. “And I wouldn’t recommend making any sudden moves.”
Klaus and I exchange a look at that, but I nod, anyway. We’re not here to start a war with a vampire monarch on top of everything else. We’re here because we need Cirio.
Fitz leads us farther down, past dozens of burly vampire enforcers, until we reach a small, secluded dining area on a patio that juts out over the cliff. My stomach drops as I realise some insane person—probably a vampire—has decided to make the floor beneath us out of glass. The waves below seem to taunt me, and it takes a considerable amount of effort to not look down.
I keep my focus on the group of people seated at the table by the edge instead. Most of them are vampires, dressed in fine, airy brocade fabrics that collude with the gold jewellery they’re all wearing to make the lone shifter in the group seem laughably out of place.
At the head of the table sits a woman who can only be the vampire queen. Her chestnut skin is painted with gold, shimmering patterns that seem designed to trace the lines of her generous curves. Her two-piece dress is a vibrant citrus orange, and her wrists and ears are adorned with more jewellery than I’ve ever seen in my life.
Even the long, twisting braids of her hair are wound through with more gold. The glinting beads catch the light of the sun until it’s hard to look at her.
It’s a kind of feminine beauty you’d be foolish to underestimate. Another subtler display of power.
Behind the rich honey colour of her eyes, there’s a hard, calculating gleam as she surveys Klaus and me.
Beside her is a male who must be her mate, along with two other female vampires. They’re not important, and I dismiss them easily. Instead, I focus on the couple at the other end of the table. One of whom very clearly does not belong.
