Finally, when I was already scanning my brain for something else to say that would make the situation better not worse, the queen swiveled in her throne to glance behind her.
“Yes,Elowynshould have been back by now.”
So she hadn’t missed my slip-up, of course she hadn’t. The woman was sharper than all my blades put together. If only she were stupid, my job would be so much easier.
“Ivar,” the queen added before another sip of what must be blood.
Her advisor dipped his head at her in assent and, faster than necessary, faster than was normal, zipped toward the door and walked through it.
Long minutes passed during which Braque drew nearer to the queen, though whether to protect her in Ivar’s absence or to further ingratiate himself was unclear. Azariah shifted his weight between both front legs, over and over again, until I wrestled with the urge to march over to him and physically restrain him. He always had been a nervous creature; the closer to the queen he was, the worse it got.
When Ivar finally returned to the great salon, it was with a stumble, as if the doorway had spat him out. His knees buckled for a moment but then he was righting the high open collar of his jacket and walking elegantly toward the queen. His back was straight as ever.
I didn’t understand why he bothered.
His clothing was shredded across the shoulders and chest, revealing his skin sliced into ribbons of flesh beneath. His hair stood on end across the left half of his head only. He was missing a shoe and a stocking. And he clutched his cutlass with a tight grip. The blade dripped blood, and the queen’s stare was drawn to it.
“Your Majesty,” he said, his eyes calm in a way that only came from seeing too much violence. “The lady Elowyn is gone.”
The queen’s stare jerked from the blood to his face. “What do you mean, she’s gone? She can’t begone.”
“I agree, my queen. But she’s nowhere on the other side of that door.”
Her perfect brow furrowed. “But … how’s that possible? By a dragon’s death, where could she have even gone?”
“I couldn’t tell, my queen. There were an abundance of signs that she’d been there, but not of how she’d left.”
“What kinds of signs?” the queen asked with a greedy glimmer.
“Pools of blood, Your Majesty. Much of her dress left behind in tatters, including both shoes. I even discovered chunks of her flesh.”
The queen licked her lips, discovered blood at their corners, and licked them again. “Is that all?” Her question was breathless.
“No, Your Majesty. There were also clumps of her hair and what looked like a toenail. And then there was the echo of her screams.”
“‘The echo of her screams,’” the queen parroted in the tone of someone daydreaming about their first love. As if that were the most fucking wonderful thing the woman had ever heard.
“Where did the doorway take you?” she asked.
“I couldn’t tell, my queen. It was too bright. There were creatures everywhere beyond where I could see. But most left me alone once they realized who I was.”
“Who you are to me, you mean.”
“Yes.”
Braque’s jowls quivered slightly at the sudden downturn of his thin, pale lips. I wondered if he realized he did that. He really should be more self-aware. He might be related to the queen by blood, but thatdidn’t guarantee her favor. The only petulance she was known to approve of was her own.
The queen looked up at the sky through the windows, before turning back toward her advisor. “Do you think she survived?”
“I can’t say for sure of course, my queen, but it was a great deal of blood. Big pieces of her flesh. If she lived, it’s unlikely she will for long.”
Absently, the queen nodded. “I don’t understand how she got away. If for no other reason, the magic of the Fae Heir Trials should have prevented her escape.”
The queen spoke of Elowyn as if she were as much her captive as I was.
“Azariah,” the queen barked, and the pegicorn shrieked before pretending he’d been clearing his throat. Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling as if his reaction were inconceivable.
He clip-clopped to the throne. “Your Majesty?”