Before I could answer, she shoved the door open, and a gleaming chamber laid beyond. Everything from the floors to the towering pillars to the only other exit across the way was carved of ivory and white crystal, shining and inlaid with silver. All except the domed ceiling made of stained glass, twelve panels within, each depicting what I guessed were stories of the Fates. One remained dark, that twelfth Fate that no longer existed.
And beneath it, standing proudly in the center of the room, was Titus, a fine silver silk robe billowing around him.
My heart leapt into my throat.
Where was Barrett?
I didn’t ask on the off chance that Titus hadn’t figured out the Engrossians were part of our plan, but I glared at the chancellor as guards dragged us forward. Until we stood mere feet from their boss.
“Welcome, welcome, Mr. Blastwood.” His eyes traveled over Mila. It took all of my control not to lurch in his direction. “I’m afraid I don’t know you, miss?”
“Mila Lovall.” Her voice rang clear through the room, playing his game of formalities. “General of the Mystique armies. With the status of my title, I command you release me and my soldier from these chains.”
Titus contemplated, not even bristling at her demand. “I believe chancellor outranks general, does it not?”
“And Revered outranks chancellor. Shall we summon her?”
What was Mila saying? She knew full well that Ophelia wouldn’t be able to come here tonight. I flashed her a warning look quickly enough that Titus wouldn’t see.
But the chancellor waved a hand and said, “I don’t think that will be necessary.” His robe swished with the motion, and a pile of soft blue fabric was briefly visible behind him. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to disturb your Revered, would we?”
My stomach bottomed out.
“What are you talking about, Chancellor?”Use his formal title, I reminded myself. Play the game.
“Your Revered is currently…occupied, if I am correct.” He observed mine and Mila’s blank faces. How the fuck did he know where Ophelia was? “Or was that not the plan? I was sure my apprentice had set it up as so.”
A growl rumbled in my chest. That untrustworthy prick, Harlen, sold us out? I swore to Damien?—
The door opened behind Titus, and a man was dragged in. Dragged because he could barely stand, his knees buckling and head drooping.
I hadn’t met Cyph’s Starsearcher contact, but judging by the distress blaring beneath his bruised features, this was the man Cypherion and Ophelia had met with. The one who had concocted this entire scheme to rescue Vale.
And if those injuries said anything, he hadn’t sold us to Titus. No, Titus had figured this out on his own.
Harlen was hauled into the room by two bulky guards, and behind him?—
“What the fuck is this?” I shouldn’t have let the outburst win, but three more figures followed Harlen. Unchained, but very obviously prisoners based on the warriors escorting them.
Panic gripped my chest, ignited by anger.
Barrett, Dax, and Celissia, the latter blinking wide eyes at a spot behind Titus. The general had nothing but a coolly lethal stare for the chancellor, and Barrett maintained the unbothered princely demeanor he often wore in front of others, hands tucked into his pockets.
“Malakai, brother, what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same,” I answered Barrett, then turned my attention back on Titus. “Prince Barrett is the future Engrossian king, and Celissia is his queen-to-be. Let them and their guard go this instant!”
“Even nobility does not get off when conspiring against other clans.”
In his most regal, bored voice, Barrett drawled, “In what realm have we conspired against you? I thought we were having a rather nice dinner.”
Titus gave Barrett a scolding look. “Denial will not end any of this quicker, Your Royal Highness.”
“To detain them is an act of war,” I countered.
Mila chimed in, “And I believe even here, cowering in the far stretches of the continent, you heard how brutal the Engrossian forces can be.”
“Well, I suppose it’s good the majority of the clan does not support this king apparent.” Titus tilted his head, a creature of cunning and wit. Those years of manipulation when he’d gained his seat being put to use within his mind.
