I leaned forward, squinting with the little aid of the candlelight. Mora’s likeness of my odd magenta eyes—a mark of the Angelcurse—were a deep purple, almost brown.
The female shrugged. “Nothing can be perfectly mimicked.”
It was unsettling to see myself out of a mirror. Another fae trick to be aware of. Pushing my shoulders back and stepping forward, I tried not to grind my teeth.
“You two built this entire palace?” I asked as Mora shifted back into herself, a bit of reluctant awe slipping between my words. The ceilings towered impossibly high and ivy twined up the stone columns between the windows, cooling the sun piercing the glass.
“We did,” Mora confirmed. The pride she’d displayed when she showed us to our dressing chamber resurfaced. Much of this place was only a glamour, then. Perhaps the decor? Lancaster had crafted the foundation beneath our boots out of nothing, and Mora adorned it with an impression of wealth.
The palace was elaborate. No wonder they’d been waiting here for the queen for so long. They likely needed days to recover after selecting the location and crafting it.
“That is very impressive,” I told them despite the discomfort that level of magic planted in my gut. When I turned to Ritalia, her smile only fanned it. If these were merely her guards, what depths did the queen’s powers stretch to?
“How diplomatic of you,” she said and took another sip of wine.
“I give accolades where they are due.” I nodded at Lancaster and Mora. “These two helped save our lives. We are here under pleasant circumstances, are we not?” I asked.
“Indeed, Seraph Child. Pleasant for those of us on this earthly plane.” Ritalia assessed me, but before I could untangle those words, she declared, “You would have made a triumphant queen, Revered Alabath.”
I inclined my head, and the quartet in the corner increased the speed of their tune. “You must be confused. Warriors do not honor queens.”
“Don’t they?”
The reminder of Kakias flashed in her stare. That she knew our business so intimately and was so comfortable wielding it against us.
She was picking us apart like carrion, even as we stood as honored guests in her halls. With every evaluating glance, every twisted turn of phrase, she was storing more and more slivers of us within her vaulted mind.
Every time she turned her eyes on another one of my party, my ire flamed. It only fanned it more that I had tobehave. We were at such a disadvantage, thanks to the bargains and the unknowns of the fae’s magic. I couldn’t play the queen’s games at her level for fear of how she’d react.
Did she have soldiers in boats heading toward Gallantia, ready to disturb the peace of those serene Western Outposts despite the truce? Did she have fae with abilities beyond Lancaster and Mora, with eyes trained on us? And did the tempo of the music increase as I spun questions in my head, or was I imagining it?
One wrong move from me could have her rewriting history. Have her sayingmypeople crossed a line in the treaty if she truly believed it herself.
“May I ask, Your Majesty,” I began, tempering my anger, “what intel have you gathered about your mission on our continent?” A subtle reminder that we’d known Lancaster had been on our land, but because he had been under instructions to play nicely with warrior leaders—and because we’d had battles among our own kind—we did not call her on the violation of the treaty.
But we could.
I shifted my hips so the slit Jezebel added to my dress flashed my thigh—and the dagger strapped to it.
A war could so easily be flipped in this very chamber if Ritalia wished.
“Studying the magic,” she said frugally.
“And what were the findings?” I asked.
“You would think them interesting.” Ritalia danced around the answer. “Things of gods twisting through the universes, dancing among realms. Of legends falling from the sky and painting the fields with deep crimson blessed by beings of winged might.”
I picked it apart, each tidbit of information she hid within her words, buried so that us warriors would have to work to decipher what she meant. Gods and realms. Legends and blood. Winged might?—
“But there is something more prudent to your arrival here, Revered Alabath,” Ritalia said. The music’s tempo increased, grating on my skin.
“Is there?” I asked. To me, there wasn’t. I was here for three reasons: keep the fae away from Gallantia, ask questions of the gods, and appease the bargain.
The bargain.
If Ritalia’s smile was any indication, she knew the moment I recalled the threat. My palms burned with Angellight.
“You made a deal with one of my own, and surely you knew something would have to come of that.” Ritalia swirled her wine, the red liquid coming to the lip of the chalice with every pivot. “There is an abundance of Bounties seated among us, is there not?”
