Page 118 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

She would not think about it. Just being in the room made Ariadne’s stomach curl with disgust, and oh, how different that feeling was from the first time she had spoken to Melia.

That first night on the balcony, Ariadne could see how so many people were drawn to the mage. She was charismatic and appeared empathetic to those she oversaw as a Desmo. Now, Ariadne saw the snake beneath the mask.

Ariadne settled in on one of the couches, crossing her legs with how close to the floor she sat. A light spread of food was laid out before her along with three cups for tea. Melia must have believed she would bring Phulan with her despite the request to be alone.

Truthfully, if she had received the invitation with Phulan present, they would have attended together. As it were, it was likely best that Ariadne reveal herself alone so as to not ruin her host’s standing with the Desmo. She would be able to explain that Phulan had had no knowledge of the truth, though it would not matter if she succeeded in what she had come to do: kill Melia before Melia could kill her.

It did not take long for Melia to appear from down the hallway toward what Ariadne assumed to be her bedroom. The Desmo held her head high, as always, and wore a gossamer dress almost the same shade as Ariadne’s. Her silver eyes twinkled, and she smiled warmly as she settled into place across from her.

“Phulan permitted us to dine alone?” Melia poured two cups of tea.

“She is busy this evening.” Ariadne watched the steaming liquid slosh into her cup, her heart picking up its pace. She twisted her fingers into the fabric on her lap, hoping the small movements would hide their shaking. “I thought it best to come on my own.”

Melia set the teapot down and picked up her cup. “Well, then, Cressida. I’m pleased you made it.”

She nodded. “As am I. You are always such a gracious host.”

“Tell me,” Melia said after taking a sip of the tea, “what brought you to the Pits last night?”

Oh, Ariadne was going to be sick. The mage was not going to make pleasantries. She was direct, unlike the Caersan women back home. There was no time to remember the various conversations she had concocted on her walk over. So she hid her silence by drinking the tea. The spices tasted dull in comparison to Phulan’s blend.

When at last she spoke, Ariadne said, “I have been quite curious what it looks like.”

“And you’ve never been before?”

Gods, had she been seen the first time? She had not noticed Melia’s attention, and Phulan had worked so hard to keep them out of sight. It was for the best that she did not make up more lies. Sticking as close to the truth as possible always helped when creating an entirely false reality.

“Once.” She bit her lip. “I admit, I was impressed by the dhemons you have imprisoned.”

“Ah.” Melia chuckled. “Yes, you were here the evening one of them got a little out of hand. I apologize for that.”

Ariadne wanted to slap the smirk off her face. Instead, she gave her a weak smile and nod. “Yes. I had asked around for his name and had bet some money on his victory last night.”

Oh, please let that be enough to convince her.

“Interesting.” Melia set down her cup and served herself a thin slice of spiced cake. “I didn’t see your name on the betting registers. I receive a copy for each of my fighters to ensure I am paid appropriately.”

She was going to be sick. “It was private between Phulan and me. She was eager for him to fail.”

For a long moment, Melia said nothing. Her silver eyes roamed across Ariadne’s face as though taking in every minute detail.

That’s when Ariadne felt it. The magic in the air. But as quickly as it began, it ended, and Melia peeled her gaze from hers.

“I don’t believe you’ve been entirely truthful with me.”

Ariadne blinked in surprise. She did not have to fake it. The statement caught her off-guard, and she sat back as though struck by a blow. “Pardon me?”

“You are not Cressida Quinn.”

The air suddenly felt quite thin. Ariadne struggled to inhale a breath. This had been a mistake. A trap. Melia had not wanted her here as a friend. She had wanted her here as a way to dispose of an enemy. Still, she had been convinced she could talk her way through it. Long enough, at least, to slip a dagger between her ribs.

Melia continued, “You lied to me.”

“I did not mean—”

“Enough.” The command sounded bored, as though the game Melia had been playing this entire time was nothing more than a nuisance. Her smile had long since disappeared, and those silver eyes turned hard and cold. “I think I know precisely who you are.”

Ariadne had to salvage this. She could not possibly know she was not Cressida. There was no evidence to speak against her. “My name is—”

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