Page 38 of Gemini Wicked

Vasili hums with interest and looks intrigued. Still looming behind me, Ronin shifts one hand from my shoulder to rest on Lucius’.

My headmaster’s still talking, his affectionate gaze resting on Neo’s worried face as our bookworm trots over and snuggles on the ottoman at my feet. “There’s no cause for alarm over anyone’s parents. I understand Senator Mercury is very capably negotiating with the AIB authorities, and the Prynnes are among his biggest donors. My grandsire fully expects they’ll all be paroled and released by dawn.”

“Oh, gosh, poor Dad. Paroled.” Neo leans into my knees and sighs. “Wait’ll the press get wind of that. It’s an election year too. No wonder he isn’t returning my calls.” His face turns diplomatically toward RT. “And the poor Prynnes too.”

“Yeah, sucks, but it’s nothing they can’t handle.” Racetrack scowls into the fire. “One of my moms runs a construction crew. She’s tough enough to spit nails, so no one fucks with her. And my other mom has nerves of steel—you know, brain surgeon.”

“A construction boss and a brain surgeon?” Mallory looks impressed. “Wow. Did they meet cute? Someone should write them into a sapphic romance.”

RT looks so appalled at that idea that Ronin snickers. “That could be your side hustle, mate. Romance author.”

Predictably, Racetrack flips him the bird. “Anyway, they’re both pretty hard to shake up. And they’re too loaded to intimidate. Neo’s dad’ll get ’em sprung.”

“Which leaves my dad,” I mutter. “He’s got more legal lives than a cat. He’ll lawyer up and wiggle outta whatever they try to charge him with. Same as always.”

Lucius says quietly, “I’m afraid the charge is sedition.”

Hearing the word, I suck in my breath. My heart gives a hard thump. That ugly word just lies there, on the colorful Turkish rug before us, like a stinking dead rat no one wants to touch.

“The fuck,” Ronin mutters.

Maxim lets out a dragonish snarl and resumes pacing.

“Sedition?” I echo, feeling dizzy. “As in, treason? If we’re all being charged with treason, why isn’t the AIB beating down our door to haul us off right now?”

Lucius places his snifter on the end table, right next to my stolen crown, and raises a scholarly hand for caution. “It appears no one’s been formally arraigned. Merely detained. Messalina was clearly hoping you’d recognize her daughter, renounce your claim on the crown, and obviate the need for any more dramatic course of action.”

“Yeah, no, not renouncing.” I scowl at the crown that’s causing all this trouble. “Vasili said it. Draco said it.” I give a wary nod at the hulking Norseman sitting across the way who’s watching us all so closely. “I said it on live TV. The witching world is dying. We’re in free fall. We’re not making enough little witches and warlocks to sustain the population. If I can figure out how to reverse that, the way Zephyr and I did for the Dark Fae in Avalon when we broke the curse—then we’ve got a fighting chance.”

My point’s one hundred percent valid. Still, it hurts to say Zephyr’s name, for real. Hot pain pings in my chest and burns in my throat.

Because neither he nor Ash have been picking up (so to speak) from Avalon when I try to call.

Ronin, my telepath, shifts both hands to my tight shoulders and gives me a hard squeeze.

His fierce voice ricochets through our mating bond. I’ll find that bloody-minded Unseelie bastard. And the other one too, I reckon. Can’t hide forever, can they? I’ve got a scrying glass, haven’t I? And I know how to use it.

I can’t hold back a mortified giggle, which makes Mal and her guys eye me like I’m psycho. Here I am, the mad queen, giggling into my cocoa over an extinction event that’s dooming all four of the arcane races.

“No wonder they’re hiding, Adam, with that kinda attitude,” I mutter into my mug.

Now it’s Ronin’s turn to voice a dark chuckle. Which I’m kinda relieved to hear. My sexy Brit’s got his own major baggage with my two missing Fae. Enough baggage to pretty much fill all the available space whenever he scrys for my two missing guys.

But now definitely isn’t the time to unpack all that.

“Let’s try to stay focused,” Lucius says mildly, eyeing the two of us with gentle exasperation as we chortle away. “To Zara’s point, no one’s come to arrest us—even after she announced to the entire witching world where to find us and practically dared Messalina to try. Cleopatra actually fled the scene rather than fight.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Ronin mutters. “A blooming sea dragon. Thought they were supposed to be extinct.”

“Not in Avalon,” I murmur. Sure, my ex-BFF turning sea dragon shifter was a shocker, but I’ve had a few hours now to process that shit. “They’ve got all kinds of dragons over there. And Cleo’s apparently half-Fae, born in Avalon, so do the math.”

“Even so.” Lucius steeples his thoughtful fingers. “Even the AIB aggression on the yacht appeared to be primarily a delaying tactic. This restraint suggests Messalina Aquarius is… uncertain. Not yet prepared to declare open war against you—her proclaimed successor, the Gemini queen—and your powerful allies. In this situation, we retain a certain amount of freedom to… strategize.”

I squirm on the settee and sip at my well-fortified cocoa to steady my jittery nerves. Seems weird to think of me—reformed cat burglar and a casino czar’s brat—having powerful allies.

But, clearly, I do. I’m the closest thing to a purebred female witch our depleted races can scare up, with DNA from all four arcane races, which is why the Senate chose me to be the next royal. I’ve got all kinds of uber-scary witchcraft I’m still discovering and coming to terms with.

Plus I’m common-law mated to half the blooded scions in the witching world.

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