by Bella Klaus
I met his pale eyes, my lips parted with a question.
“If I had declared my claim to the throne, I could have overridden the Council’s authority and questioned you in the palace,” he said, breathing hard. “Because of my failure to act, Lamia turned to turmoil and our grandfather sent Uncle Draconius to deal with the unrest.”
My gaze drifted to Ferdinand, who stuttered an apology.
“Repay me with that trident,” I said.
Sylvester frowned at the object before pulling it out of the marble and offering it to me. “It’s probably a replica.”
“That doesn’t matter.” I wrapped my fingers around its shaft, feeling a thrum of magic that made my stomach churn. “It might be handy for a plan Valentine and I have been concocting.”
“My Lady?” said Caiman from the top of the stairs.
I turned to Beowulf, who nodded. “Let’s go.”
Caiman settled Beowulf into a mahogany paneled waiting room full of leather chairs while I continued with him to Valentine’s royal suite—an entire wing of the palace where he dwelled with Kain and Macavity. It was about the size of the derelict mansion, with a grand entrance of marble floors leading to a ten-foot-wide staircase that ran up to its first floor.
I’d been here several times before during our courtship, but the sight of the bronze statues along the handrail, holding up candelabras toward the arched ceilings never failed to make my breath catch.
“My Lady?” Caiman asked.
“It’s nothing.” I continued up the stairs, holding its carved handrail for balance. How many times over the years had I dreamed of this place, this Beauty-and-the-Beast-style palace with its marble columns and decorative moldings that could have been straight out of the Palace of Versailles?
I’d lost count.
We turned left at the top of the stairs and strolled along the chandelier-lit hallway toward Valentine’s bedroom.
Caiman swept his hand toward a white door. “This is a shortcut to your dressing room, already enchanted so that only you and the lady’s maid of your choice may enter.”
I met his smiling eyes. “Valentine set that up while I was away?”
“His Majesty never lost hope that he would find you. We were overjoyed that the duration of your parting didn’t exceed a month.”
A long breath escaped my lungs. An entire month away from Valentine was a month too long, but it was better than years of being separated.
I placed my hand on the door, which glowed upon contact with my palm and clicked with the release of its locking mechanism. The dressing room was the size of my Grosvenor Square studio, its ivory walls decorated with gold cornices and a matching chandelier. Two floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the place with light, bringing out the shine in the gilded furniture upholstered in gold.
My feet sank into a deep-pile rug that was salmon pink, decorated with swirls of gold. I turned in a circle, marveling at the antique furniture. There was a golden dressing table with a stool of green velvet, a day bed, two chairs, and even a harp.
An eight-foot-tall gold mirror stood at the room’s far right, and a set of embroidered green screens on its far left. I headed toward them, guessing that they concealed the clothes. As soon as my hand brushed against one of the verdant panels, it swung open to reveal a walk-in closet, also lit by a chandelier.
I leaned the trident against a wall and shook my head from side to side. “This is…”
Too fancy, too expensive, too much? The words died in my throat. I wasn’t just going to be the consort of a Vampire King—I was a powerful supernatural in my own right, mingling with the highest echelons in Logris and beyond. There was a reason why Valentine without a soul nucleus had a stick up his ass. The politics and scheming of supernaturals knew no bounds.
I hurried down a wall of closets toward a drawer, looking for an outfit similar to the one I’d just burned. In the end, I found a deep green pair of pants and a tank top that contrasted with my vibrant red hair.
After dressing, I met Caiman outside in the hallway, and we walked around to the other side of the suite to Kain’s bedroom.
Caiman knocked before entering a large modern space of white bookshelves that reminded me of the attic in the Notting Hill safe house.
A tall vampire wearing the black uniform of an academy instructor stood on the room’s far left in front of a whiteboard marked up with Latin verbs.
Kain sat alone at a desk large enough for two with his head resting on his chin. In the empty space was one of those Apple computers that consisted entirely of a monitor.
“Mr. Caiman?” asked the tall man.
“My apologies, Professor, but Master Kain is required for urgent business.”
I glanced at the other side of the room, where a leather sofa sat in front of a large-screen TV with a game console and a bunch of music equipment. A camera and tripod took up the far corner, and a few feet away was a four-tiered cat tree, complete with a hammock and dangly toys. I would have thought it was unoccupied if not for the curling tail at the top swinging from side to side.
Kain rose off his seat. “Mera?” He glanced over my shoulder. “Where’s Valentine?”
“In prison.” I pursed my lips, suppressing a wave of annoyance. “We just chased away Prince Draconius from the front doors, but he’ll return soon enough with help from whoever’s trying to take down Valentine.”
“Shit,” he hissed. “I hope you have a plan?”
I folded my arms across my chest and gave him my most ferocious glare. “I’m kidnapping you.”
He grinned down at me, his aquamarine eyes sparkling with excitement. “Awesome. Do I have time to take my jacket?”
Caiman appeared at his side, holding an overnight bag. “I took the liberty of packing a few items.”
The man at the blackboard whizzed around the room, returning with a backpack. “I have also taken the liberty of packing your homework. You have my email in case you need assistance with your studies.”
Kain’s grin drooped around the edges, and he hung his shoulders a few inches lower. I guessed with Valentine back in the picture, he had resumed his studies. After loading him up with his supplies, we continued toward the waiting room where we’d left Beowulf.
The Shifter King had already made himself comfortable on a leather armchair, with his boots on the table beside a half-open bottle of Rémy Martin.
Kain nudged me in the side and mouthed ‘Who’s that?’
‘King Beowulf,’ I mouthed back. ‘Shifter King.’
“My Lady?” Caiman said as he closed the waiting room door. “This is a rather delicate question, but how do the three of you intend to transport Master Kain with a motorcycle?”
I bit down on my lip. “Maybe King Beowulf can borrow a car?”
The Shifter King shook his head. “I won’t be parted from my Vincent.”
“Okay…” I glanced around the room full of leather chairs and settled my gaze on an antique atlas, trying not to think about what it meant for a man to love his motorbike enough to give it a name. “How about we take the mirror to your hideout, and you meet us there?”
“Fine,” the Shifter King said with a shrug.
Caiman cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, Master Kain’s power levels will not withstand the upheaval of mirror magic.”
Beowulf smirked, his gaze drifting down Kain’s body. “Fangs haven’t dropped yet, boy?”
Kain stiffened. “My balls have, which is more than I can say about yours.”
The Shifter King rose off his seat and bared his teeth in a snarl. His sideburns thickened, and the tops of his ears lengthened to a point.
I bristled, remembering why I found many shifters so annoying. The constant attempts to reinforce a pecking order, no matter how much more powerful one shifter was than the other. It came in many guises, from outright jostling, to pointing out imagined flaws, to direct attacks.
“Hey,” I snapped. “If you don’t want to help Valentine—”
“Can’t either of you take a joke?” Beowulf waved a dismissive hand.
“You weren’t laughing when I insulted your balls,” said Kain.
Beowulf narrowed his eyes.
I exchanged a glance with Caiman, wondering if Valentine had made a mistake to call the Shifter King for help. Caiman raised a shoulder in one of those silent gestures that said it was up to me if I wanted to follow this idiot to his hideout.
A knock sounded on the door, and a servant in black livery hurried inside. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Caiman, but the Demon King is at the door.”
I placed a hand over my chest. “Is he looking for me?”
The man shook his head. “I’m afraid he wishes to see Master Kain.”
Chapter Eleven
I clenched my teeth, curled my hands into fists, and readied myself for a fight. Kain stood at my side, his cheeks paling, and Beowulf bared his teeth in a snarl. The last time Prince Draconius had attempted to lobby Hades for the throne, the Demon King had rejected him outright, but now that they were allies?
My throat dried, and I turned to Caiman, whose features were as hard as granite. “Are we too late?”
The butler shook his head. “Our wards will not allow even the Demon King to enter without the express permission of someone within the household.”
“I’ll take the boy to my retreat in Forest Hill. It’s private shifter territory. He won’t think of looking for him there.”
“Right.” A relieved breath whooshed out of my lungs. I turned my attention back to Kain. “Do you think you and King Beowulf can be civil with each other for the journey?”
He nodded.
Beowulf’s eyes softened. “Let’s go.”
Caiman turned to the footman and murmured some instructions while Beowulf guided Kain out of the room and down the hallway.
As their footsteps quietened, I turned to the butler and frowned. “What’s next?”
“We will keep the Demon King waiting while we search the palace grounds.” He raised his fingers into quotes for those last few words. “That will give King Beowulf enough time to reach the underground tunnels, while I escort you to the mirror room where you will travel to the shifters’ private retreat.”
“Lead the way.”
In a fluid movement, Caiman turned on his heel and headed to the door. I followed after him into the stone hallway, quickening my steps to match his longer paces. We walked in silence, my mind occupied with wondering why now of all times Hades was moving against Valentine.
It couldn’t be about me, could it? No one could want to possess a phoenix so badly that they would destabilize the leadership of a supernatural city in the middle of a war. Or did Hades really think that ninety-nine wards were enough to hold Kresnik?
Whatever was going on between Valentine and Hades ran deeper than the Demon King’s desire to possess a phoenix. I wasn’t vain or self-centered enough to believe that Hades would go to all this effort on my account. He had helped the Mage King levy taxes on Lamia, even after their plan to capture me had failed.
Caiman opened the door to the mirror room, where a quartet of armed guards stood to attention. There was no sign of the mercenaries who had joined us for the trip to the Notting Hill safe house, even though at least half of them had survived the traps—before Kresnik had abducted me.
Instead of guiding me toward any of the massive gold-framed mirrors hanging on the wall, the butler swept his arm to a silver mirror in the corner on a stand that resembled the kind found in fancy changing rooms.
He placed a hand on its pale frame, pushing his magic to set its coordinates. “This way, My Lady.”
I bit down on my lip, making a mental note to see if someone could teach me how to operate one of those devices. “This will take me straight to King Beowulf’s retreat?” I asked, my voice raspy. “What about the wards?”
“His Majesty gave me access to the property’s receiving room, but someone from the Shifter King’s household will have to escort you through the wards.”
“Okay, that sort of makes sense,” I murmured.
The mirror’s surface rippled, indicating it was time for me to step through. I inhaled a deep breath. Who knew how long it would take Beowulf and Kain to arrive at their destination, or if there would be anyone at the other side to meet me. But right now, I was in no mood to bump into Hades.
“Thanks, Caiman. See you later.” I stepped through the mirror and landed on a wooden surface on the other side.
Beowulf’s mirror room was more like a sauna than a waiting area, with its pine floors and walls and ceilings. Sawdust littered the floor, and the scent of wet dog hung in the air, making my nostrils twitch.
I headed toward a set of double doors, which were also pine, and placed my finger on the handle. An electric shock buzzed up my hand and up to my elbow, and I snatched away my arm.
“That will teach me to wait for Beowulf’s staff to let me inside,” I muttered under my breath.
Since the room was bare, save for the mirror I’d stepped through and another that took up an entire ten-foot-wide wall, I leaned against one of the wood panels and folded my arms across my chest. Now would probably be a good time to report back to Valentine, but I didn’t want to scorch anything or turn into a being of pure fire while stuck in a warded room of wood.
I reached into the pocket of my cloak, pulled out my new phone, and checked for messages. There was a text from Beatrice. Before I could read it, the door opened, and I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
A tall woman with golden hair stepped inside, flanked by a black woman whose braids reached her shoulders, and a woman with dyed red hair.
The blonde placed her hands on her hips, twisting her pouty mouth into a rictus of disgust. “Who the fuck are you?”
Annoyance tightened my skin. This rudeness was one of the less subtle attempts at dominance I’d seen at the academy. If I ignored it, the blonde and her friends would forever treat me like I was beneath them. If I challenged her tone of voice, it could escalate into a fight.
I pulled my shoulders back and straightened. Gone were the days when all I had to defend myself with were sharp words.
“Does King Beowulf approve of skanks speaking so rudely to his guests?” I asked, channeling my inner Ellora Vandamir. “One would think a shifter of his status would have chosen better.”
The blonde bared her teeth in a snarl. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“And you haven’t asked me a question worth answering,” I drawled. “You should be aware that anyone capable of passing into the retreat’s inner wards is here at the king’s request?”
Her lips tightened into a thin line, and her eyes glowed the shade of amber I’d seen before when shifters were about to fight. I suppressed a sigh. It was such a pity people couldn’t communicate without this posturing. Things were so much better in the human world where everything was more subtle.
I walked across the room and stood at the doorway before the trio of Amazons. “Well,” I snapped. “Are you going to let me inside, or continue to keep King Beowulf’s guest waiting?”
The blonde’s hand shot out, grabbed my cloak, and dragged me through the wards. Needle-pricks attacked the outer layer of my skin for a millisecond but disappeared the moment I stepped into the hallway.
A heartbeat later, the blonde lowered her face toward mine and bared her teeth. I didn’t need to feel the crackle of her unstable energy to confirm she was a shifter—her attitude was enough to identify her species—but she wasn’t as powerful as her attitude might imply.
I wrapped my hand around her wrist and sent a pulse of power down to my palm. It wasn’t enough to burn her… yet. The blonde’s fierce expression flickered with doubt, and she glanced down at my cloak. Perhaps she was trying to work out if I was a reaper or a light mage who could generate heat.
Whatever she decided, it was enough for her to deepen the scowl. “What gives you the right to address Beowulf by name?”
“Let
go of me, right now, or I’ll make you howl like a scalded dog.”
The other two women snickered, and the darker-skinned woman with the braids flashed me a grin. “No one as small and weak-looking as you would talk to Freida like that if Beowulf didn’t bring you here as the new favorite.”
I glanced from her to the one with the bad dye job. Neither of them seemed particularly protective or fond of Freida, which made me wonder if they were different kinds of shifters or rivals for the attention of their king.
“Do your worst,” Freida snarled.
I raised my free hand, set its palm alight, and let it drift toward her annoying face. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The blonde staggered back, her eyes wide. “Fire mage.”
“Shifter, actually.” I walked toward her, holding out my flaming palm.
The other two women parted to stand against the hallway’s magnolia walls. Freida glanced from one to the other, her amber eyes pleading for backup. “Are you going to let this bitch come here and ruin things?”
“For you maybe,” said the red-haired woman. “Looks like there’s a new harem alpha.”
I tried not to roll my eyes, both at the notion that King Beowulf kept a harem of women and their assumption that I’d come to join them. At least now I understood why Freida had been so rude.
“My name’s Eliza.” The dark-skinned woman held out a hand. “Harem’s beta. What kind of shifter are you?”
“Phoenix,” I said.
She straightened. “Hemera Griffin from the papers?”
“Mera,” I said.
“Wait a minute,” Freida snapped, her gaze dropping to my left hand. “You’re supposed to be engaged to the Vampire King.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “If you’d given me the chance to introduce myself without all that domineering crap, you would have found out earlier that I wasn’t a threat.”
Frieda’s nostrils flared, and her irises flashed even brighter than before. Her lips trembled, like they wanted to spew a bellyful of insults, but she turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway.
“Shit,” Eliza muttered under her breath. Without a word, she followed her alpha, leaving me alone with the third woman, who stared down at me like I was an exhibit in a museum.