The Veiled Descendants
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The Veiled Descendants
Book 2 of The Veiled Duchess Series
Sophia Menesini
Copyright © 2020 Sophia Menesini
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: Despina Panoutsou
Printed in the United States of America
To my girls, Moony and Starlord, may you always be left holding your breath to see what crazy thing I do next. xx
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter 2: Beginnings
Chapter 3: At Game’s End
Chapter 4: Red-Handed
Chapter 5: Governor
Chapter 6: Father’s Daughter
Chapter 7: All the Empress’s Horses, All the Priest’s Men
Chapter 8: The New Crew
Chapter 9: I Think I’m in Trouble
Chapter 10: The Queen’s Pirates
Chapter 11: Setting Sail
Chapter 12: The Sins of the Father
Chapter 13: I’d Fight for You
Chapter 14: Get to Know Me
Chapter 15: Whose Side Are You On?
Chapter 16: Strange Bedfellows
Chapter 17: Trial by Boiling Water
Chapter 18: The Cost of Power
Chapter 19: Kindred
Chapter 20: The Bond that Binds
Chapter 21: The More You Know
Chapter 22: Shape of You
Chapter 23: Back to the Island
Chapter 24: The Family Thicker than Blood
Chapter 25: Close to Me
Chapter 26: Forever Isn’t Long Enough
Chapter 27: I See You
Chapter 28: Keep the Faith
Chapter 29: Brother’s Keeper
Chapter 30: Mercy
Chapter 31: I Failed You
Chapter 32: The Wedding
Chapter 33: The Last Dance
Chapter 34: First Night
Chapter 35: Warm by the Firelight
Chapter 36: Last Night
Chapter 37: Last Rites
Chapter 38: Don’t Tell
Chapter 39: One Last Hope
Chapter 40: Darkness Edge
Chapter 41: The Focal Point
Chapter 42: Dawn
Chapter 43: Hades’s Bargain
Chapter 44: Too Late
Chapter 45: Inheritance
Chapter 46: Epilogue One
Chapter 47: Epilogue Two
Glossary
Acknowledgement
About The Author
Books By This Author
Chapter 1: Prologue
Ceto
The wind filters through the palms, shaking the leaves and casting shadows on the black sand in the palace courtyard.
Empress Ceto sighs, admiring her beautiful garden from where she sits on a delicately carved stone bench. Black thorny bushes with ruby-red roses spring from what should be unfertile sand.
The sky overhead is dark and dreary in Acheron, the capital of Lycos, and enslaved elves stand at each end of the courtyard holding a large canopy over Her Majesty and the imperial court.
Large pillows are scattered around the garden where she waits with her royal cabinet, keeping the serpent-like courtiers close.
In particular, a dark-haired vision with sharp pointed ears and a razor smile stretches contentedly on her pillow closest to the throne. Thetis.
Ceto withholds a growl at Thetis’s cavalier attitude. She wishes she could accuse her of treason, but the elf has too many allies and too many talents.
The empress’s spies can’t even confirm Thetis’s involvement in the poisoning last month.
If only Ceto had stopped the marriage between Thetis and Count Aegis four years ago. How the siren weaseled her way into that spiteful old count’s heart, no one truly knows.
She merely appeared in the empress’s court one day on Aegis’s arm. Furthermore, when he died a year later with no proof of foul play, the law was clear.
Thetis would receive his position in court.
Every assassin she sent after Thetis failed, and after a while, she gave up trying and decided to make use of the elf when she could.
None of them have any idea why they’ve been called to the garden today, but until she knows for sure who helped that whore of an elf escape, she plans to keep them all on their toes.
Several new faces appear at the entrance to the courtyard following a frail elven woman with a limp.
Ceto glances to Thetis, searching for a reaction to the other elf’s pain, but the countess simply ignores the slave, and instead her brown eyes narrow on the strangers’ faces.
The empress observes the dark-haired men walking down the courtyard aisle with the foreign tattoos obscuring most of their facial characteristics. They all have long hair of varying shades, braided back into tight buns, and they remain behind the servant with proper etiquette.
Once they’re a fair distance from Ceto, each one kneels, waiting for her acknowledgment.
“My lady, they refused to give their individual names,” the slave explains gesturing to the men kneeling behind her with a frightened scowl.
The elf’s hands are laced together in front of her and her eyes are downcast. With difficulty, she also kneels at her mistress’s feet.
“They wished to simply be announced as the Hunters.”
Ceto’s eyes scan each man. She gestures for the elderly elf to come closer. Again, with difficulty, the slave stands and limps over to Ceto carefully.
The empress smiles sweetly and, once they’re face-to-face, backhands her.
The woman cries as her bad leg gives out from under her and she falls to the ground. Whimpering, she looks up at Ceto, cradling her cheek in pain.
“That’ll be all. Leave now,” Ceto commands.
The slave scurries up—but she’s careful not to move too quickly and bring attention to herself.
A moment of silence passes as Ceto allows members of her court to examine the Hunters, and she grins especially at Thetis.
They’re a guild of some of the finest bounty hunters in the known world. Native to Helios and faithful to the god of sunlight, Apollo. They’re ruthless, intelligent, and above all, never stop searching for their marks.
“Hunters? Are you?” Ceto inquires mockingly.
She crosses her legs in a seductive manner. Her dress glimmers, opaque at the top and falling translucent just about mid-thigh, trailing behind her in a long train of see-through material.
Her feet are bare and the one still touching the ground draws circles in the black sand.
The leader makes himself known with a slight nod, answering her flippant question. He kneels at the forefront and Ceto notices he has the most tattoos.
His tan skin looks rough, wrinkled like leather, and his hair is as black as Ceto’s.
He looks up, remaining in a kneeling position on the ground in front of her, but she can feel his eyes raking over her body with obvious lust.
She watches his every move as his gaze lands on her bare midriff and his tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. He takes in her velvet black top and the bloodred beads falling like droplets over her breasts, her green dupatta scarf draping over her bosom to portray a semblance of modesty against the skintight top piece.
Whe
n he’s done examining her, his black eyes meet her golden-brown ones.
“Aye, Your Majesty.”
His voice is gravelly, experienced, and Ceto leans forward, resting her weight with her arm on her crossed knee.
“And your real names,” she commands.
“I don’t have one. None of us do. An identity makes it impossible for anyone to disappear. I am simply a Hunter,” he tells her plainly, and she can see he isn’t being coy.
She lets the answer go for now.
There’s seven of them. Two blonds, a redhead, and three brunets not counting their black-haired leader. They’re all varying ages and their hair is done up in the same bun style. They wear the same outfit, too, all black leather: pants, boots, and long-sleeved shirts with an embroidered golden sun over their left breast pocket.
“Did your guild tell you why I sent for you?”
The lead Hunter shakes his head.
Ceto gestures with her hands for him—for all of them—to stand, straightening up her posture as they do.
They’re quite tall but far enough away from Ceto so it doesn’t look like they’re looking down at her.
Thetis has been watching their every move, her face smiling, carefree, but Ceto can see the gears turning in her mind as she considers every word.
“Why is he here?”
Ceto grins and turns to Thetis, happily acknowledging her outburst.
“I have a job for them.”
The music in the courtyard stumbles. Barely enough that only a trained ear would pick up on it. And the voices turn to a whisper.
Now she has everyone’s attention.
“Nereid is infested,” Ceto continues. “I’ve hired you to exterminate the infestation. For the good of all.”
“And this infestation?”
The lead Hunter’s eyes flicker briefly to where Thetis is lounging.
Ceto smirks as the countess tenses, waiting for her empress’s response and surely expecting a different answer than the one she gives.
“Pirates.”
Thetis and the Hunters seem to visibly relax. It’s then that she notices the redheaded Hunter is an elf.
How typical, she chuckles to herself.
“They have terrorized the countries of Nereid for long enough, and as a woman of law, it’s time I put an end to it,” Ceto grandstands.
There’s an applause from the imperial court and she nods, taking a bow for her theatrics.
“Noble effort.” Thetis claps alongside the rest of the serpents. “But pirates are practically their own civilization, with numbers equivalent to the elves in Erebos. They are but seven men.”
“No. They’re not,” Ceto challenges Thetis and stands.
Her hair falls in ringlets down her back, and her crown of obsidian shards twinkles off the green firelight burning in the lamps at each corner of the courtyard.
“They are the Hunters of Apollo.”
The room’s whispers extinguish.
The Hunters of Apollo are known throughout Lycos, but to actually acquire their services is as dangerous as being one of their marks.
Thetis looks like a gaping fish trying to find her wits as she finally recognizes the sigils on their suits. Ceto hums in pleasure at the elf’s expression.
“We work with many pirates,” the lead Hunter drawls. “Some are great allies of the Hunters. What you’re asking would cost a steep price.”
“I am well aware.”
The lead Hunter sighs. “So what do you offer?”
“Something your guild has been desperate to reach for years. Access to the Lycon Vault of Secrets.”
The court bursts into outrage, counts and countesses standing with shouts of objection. She is well aware that most members of her court are probably marks of the Hunters, and presumably what’s keeping them alive today is the information hidden in her vault.
The Hunter is silent; it’s obvious he’s thinking the offer over.
“All of it?”
“Not all. But you won’t be disappointed,” Ceto states.
“You don’t strike me as the charitable type, Empress. Why do you want to kill pirates?”
“Oh, I don’t really, some can be quite useful. But you see, there’s one in particular and I plan on taking everything she holds dear. Starting with her whole bloody race.”
She has a moment where she imagines Shea vividly in the Hunter’s place. Kneeling before the empress in chains, glaring with every bit of her rebellious fire.
“So, you want us to kill her? This pirate?”
The image of Shea fades at the Hunter’s question.
“No.”
“No?”
The question comes from Thetis, who is now sitting up straight in her seat, fully invested in the conversation.
“No. I want you to make her wish you had. I want you to take everything from her. Her crew, her ship, her allies, and her boy. And then I want you to bring her to me at any cost necessary. You will be compensated.”
“Just who is this pirate?”
Ceto revels as the name leaves her lips, “Captain Shea Lara of the Veiled Duchess.”
The Hunter doesn’t respond.
In fact, his expression sours, and he frowns deeply. His fellow Hunters fidget but draw back into their solid forms.
Ceto’s smile disappears, her friendly facade turning cold. “Is there a problem?”
“I’m afraid we can’t help you.”
“And why not?”
“Let’s just say she’s…protected. Still, we can take down every other pirate if that’s what you wish?”
Ceto’s voice turns shrill. “You know what I wish, and you will do as I say!”
The soldiers stationed at the garden walls draw their weapons and the two closest lunge toward the seven men.
The first is skewered with his own blade by the red-haired elf, and the other is held down by the first blond while the second snaps his neck in a choke hold.
Ceto doesn’t move.
Her other soldiers hesitate, waiting for her orders. The garden is taut with nerves, and the royals anxiously await the Hunters’ next moves.
The leader casually steps over the impaled soldier and walks closer until he’s standing before the empress.
“Her protection has been bought by someone more powerful than you. One not of this world. I’d let go of this fixation; you never know, you could find your vault doesn’t offer you quite the protection you presume.”
Ceto slips her silver dagger from her dress and almost manages to slit the man’s throat, but he catches it. A small nick is all she gets.
He looks at her, impressed, running his eyes over her body one last time.
“We’ll let ourselves out. Oh. And thanks for the tip. About the vault and all. We’ll have to look into it.”
He throws the dagger past her head, and it lands somewhere in the garden behind her stone bench.
The black-haired Hunter whistles and the other six turn to leave.
Ceto’s breath comes faster.
He turns back to give her a mocking salute, but his image wavers and instead she sees Shea standing in his place.
She salutes the empress as well and smiles in a gloating manner.
Ceto growls loudly as the image disappears. She feels as enraged as she did when she received the news that Shea helped that Arethusian bitch take back her queendom.
She’d killed as many red-haired elven slaves as she could find in her fury, including her favorite, Lyle.
Lost in her thoughts, Ceto almost stomps her foot in frustration when one of her courtiers screams.
The sounds of grunts and harsh breaths fill the air, and she looks up in time to see the Hunters fighting a new player.
From the look of him, he’s another elf. There’s something about him that she finds familiar.
He kills every one of the Hunters, leaving six mangled corpses behind him. All of th
em except the leader.
The elf’s face is speckled with gore blending in with his freckles. He manages to pin the Hunter to the ground, hitting him until his face is a battered mess.
Finally, the stranger intertwines his bruised hand into the Hunter’s braided hair and drags him across the floor until he’s standing in front of Ceto.
The elf drops the Hunter before her, placing his foot on top of the other man’s chest, pinning him in place.
She’s quite impressed with this new player, but she doesn’t want to seem overly eager.
Ceto ignores him, childishly, and sticks her feet into the sand, squishing her toes under the cold ground with a giggle.
She hears the elderly slave attendant she slapped before come running as fast as she can into the gardens, trying to avoid the twisted bodies along the walkway.
The guards stationed around the courtyard remain wary, ready to strike.
Ceto smiles as the slave falls to her knees before her, babbling apologies for allowing someone into the court unannounced.
Ceto pays no attention to the woman’s words. Instead she imagines Shea in her place, wearing her iron collar and the same pitiful dress. But the slave’s pleas quickly drown out the illusion and Shea disappears before her eyes.
“If you don’t quit your incessant chattering, I’ll have your tongue!”
The old elf sobs but forces her hands over her mouth to stifle the cries.
Ceto tries not to laugh; she’ll have the woman’s tongue anyway for allowing this break in protocol, but it’s better to let them think they have a chance.
“Go,” Ceto commands and the slave does.
She steps closer to her new guest and places her bare foot on the pinned Hunter’s face. She wipes her sandy foot over his eyes and mouth, rubbing the dirt into his open wounds.
He groans in pain.
She practically squeals in delight, stepping away so she can look at the elf in front of her fully.
His eyes are stunning, a teal, neither green nor blue. His hair is dark red. He’s tall, very tall, and there really is no blood on the elven robes he wears.
Ceto realizes the material’s color is actually blue, but it’s so dark that to an untrained eye it would look black. His hair is cropped, and his freckles span every inch of his features.