Page 101 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

He groans through another kiss, this one hard. “Stop interrupting me while I sing your accolades.”

I roll my eyes dramatically.

He releases my chin to tug my braid. “And you have secured an alliance with a realm who has been killing key casters for two thousand years.”

“If Allegra survives.” The casters whisked her and Zaleria off to a room in the elementals’ tower and told us they would know more by morning.

“Give yourself credit where it is due, Romeria.”

“What about your throne? What about Malachi?”

“There is not much we can do at present. Arriving unannounced in Cirilea has proven a bad idea, and killing him will not be so easy with Sofie as his shield.” Zander smooths a hand over my hip. “He wears my clothes and my crown, but he seems more interested in playing king than destroying the realm.”

“For how long, though?”

“Only time will tell. But that is why we must focus on winning the loyalty and hearts of our people—both yours and mine—and proving to them that we are joined in our aims for peace and prosperity, so that when the day comes, we are united.” He leans down to peck my nose with his lips. “Hence the letters.”

A grating sound suddenly fills the queen’s chamber. Zander’s sword is in his grip and my affinities bubble in mine as a panel in the wall slides open.

We both sigh in relief as Jarek’s broad frame fills the gaping passage beyond. He and Abarrane have been scouring the castle since we arrived, searching for anything that might interest us. “Look what I found.”

“What you found?” Lucretia’s voice sings from the darkness. “You have a short memory, Commander.” She’s been calling him that since they arrived tonight.

His jaw tenses. To say Jarek wasn’t pleased when he saw Lucretia at the port would be an understatement. “You will both want to see this.”

I marvel at the windowless room, lit with lanterns—fueled by caster magic that ignited as soon as Jarek pulled the hidden lever. “How in the world did you find it?” I walked through Princess Romeria’s quarters earlier and noticed nothing other than the mundane taupe silks and general lack of evil aura one might expect to linger in the personal space of such a duplicitous villain. The trigger to open it is carved into the molding on the opposite side of the room from the entrance behind the fireplace.

“I am a skilled legionary. I miss nothing.”

“And I did not miss the way the serpent led you there, practically holding your hand as you pulled,” Abarrane muses. “It’s as if she knew where it was all along.”

“I do not know what is built within these walls, warrior. I have never been to this place before.” Lucretia’s eyes sparkle with delight as they drag over the floor-to-ceiling shelves.

I sense a half-truth in her answer, but it’s not worth chasing yet. “So, this secret room has doors into Neilina’s and Romeria’s chambers?”

“And Prince Tyree’s as well—here.” Abarrane points to a panel in the octagonal-shaped room, sitting open a crack. “But not the king’s, from what I can see.”

“His chamber is too far away. And I imagine they did not want him privy to their scheming.” Zander fumbles through a stack of loose paper on the expansive table in the center. A map much like the one in Zander’s circular war room fills at least half of it.

“Look. They even had portraits drawn of you.” I hold up a sketch of Zander. “Not bad, though whoever drew this made your eyes too small. And I wouldn’t have used charcoal. The lines are too heavy.”

Zander collects the portrait of himself for closer examination before his gaze drifts to the array, pausing on his parents for a beat longer than the rest. “Annika is missing from here.”

“They didn’t consider her a threat worth studying.” Jarek holds up a jar to the lantern light, showing off the dark liquid inside. My tainted blood, no doubt.

“Then they seriously underestimated my sister.” Zander’s frown is deep. I know he thinks about her often, worries about her. I wish I could have found her and brought her to Ulysede.

“Messages from her many spies.” He flips through a stack of unfurled letters in various handwriting. “There must be hundreds of them here. Maybe more.”

Abarrane holds up a page. “From Lord Muirn.”

“A well-deserved death. What did that snake have to say?” Zander mutters.

She scans it quickly. “Nothing we did not know or suspect. Information on Hudem’s festivities, access into Cirilea …”

I wander over to the bookshelf to check the spines of various leather-bound books. Biographies of kings and queens, royal families, mostly.

“Is there anything of interest here, Your Highness?” Lucretia asks.

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