“Bounties?” Lancaster’s deep voice rumbled through the room, a threat chilling it.
My head whipped in his direction, only for his eyes to lock on Rina. His nostrils flared.
Then, in a fit of rage, Lancaster exploded where he stood.
Chapter Ten
Ophelia
Fae around the room gasped,boots scuffing over pristine marble floors. We all reached for our weapons, pools of Angellight coiling around my hands.
All but Rina, who glowered quietly at the male clearly targeting her, confusion and animosity in the tremor of her bottom lip.
Lancaster’s nails dug into the velvet drapery behind Ritalia’s throne as if anchoring himself there, but his lips parted on a snarl, his eyes crazed. Even his jacket sleeves hung in tatters, corded muscles standing out on his forearms beneath the split seams.
“Your Majesty?” he ground out, every bit as animalistic as legend told of these immortal graces.
“What’s happening to him?” I gasped, looking between Ritalia and Lancaster.
Mora gripped his arm, whispering something none of us could hear. Lancaster shook his head, but his gaze remained locked on Santorina. The veins in his neck strained, sweat beading on his forehead.
Rina stared back, as if frozen in wide-eyed shock. But her hand drifted toward the dagger at her thigh.
The room was otherwise suspended in silence.
“Your. Majesty,” Lancaster repeated, each word stilted, and this time, there was a battle beneath his request. “What is the order?”
A lengthy beat of contemplation followed, during which every warrior balanced on the balls of their feet. Starfire and Angelborn were desperate weights against my body, begging to be unleashed, and the tension in the air pressed down on us.
Finally, Ritalia said, “Stand down, my hunter.”
When I cut my glare to her, she was staring at my hands, where Angellight ebbed in golden tendrils. Disappointment crashed over me for exposing it, for giving this queen another fragment of control, but I reined it in and hid any reaction to my mistake.
Ritalia’s haughty smile told me she’d already known and had only wanted to see it for herself.
A muscle feathered in Lancaster’s jaw. Stress unspooled from his frame, and with one final knowing glance at Santorina, he stormed out a door behind the throne, Mora following in his wake.
Brystin snapped at a staff member with a smirk, holding his hand out for a glass of wine. “I forgot how much fun he promises when pushed.”
“All of the warrior and fae courts, vacate the room.” Ritalia’s voice was calm but authoritative, ignoring her guard’s remark. “I have something I must discuss with your Revered alone.”
“Over my Angeldamned body,” Tolek retorted beneath his breath.
“Tell me what that was,” I demanded to Ritalia, nodding at where Lancaster had stood.
“I gladly will,” Ritalia agreed to my shock, “once the others leave. We have various topics we must discuss.”
“No.” My voice rang through the room with the force of the Angels. “No one leaves until you explain that outburst. Then you and I can finish discussing why you’re here at all.”
It may have been foolish to command such a lethal queen, but she’d been toying with us all day. First making us change and wait to see her, then parading us here and picking through our appearances.
I may not have held the title of queen, but I was the Revered of the Mystique Warriors and the Chosen of the Angels. I demanded respect.
Ritalia twirled her chalice between her fingers. She almost seemed…impressed. “Very well.” Setting the silver cup on the table beside her throne, she stood. “We do have the Queen of Bounties among us, do we not?”
The chamber was silent, Ritalia’s stare locked on Santorina, whose voice was steel as she stepped up beside me. “Queen of what?”
“Enough of the riddles, Your Majesty,” I clipped, holding on to the last sliver of reverence. “Tell us what this is about.”
