Page 82 of The Oracle of Dusk

“You’re welcome, by the way. The plan was to present the treaty to you as an open and shut matter, with your seal used to ratify it.”

“Oh? So why didn’t you allow it?” he asked, securing his seal ring back on his finger. Perhaps he should destroy it, so that it couldn’t be stolen again.

“Because it wouldn’t have satisfied Her Majesty. She wants you to sign the document yourself, however unwillingly, and she wants the signing to be public.”

Ah. In that case, he would most definitely use such an occasion to destroy his seal ring.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“I suggest you get comfortable with the idea that it will, in some way or another. I also suggest you find some way to give Her Majesty what she desires before she decides to get…creative.”

Theron regarded this Viridian bitch with some amusement. As far as courtiers went, she seemed to be most effective. Every emotion had been drained out of her, her grey eyes as unmoving as stone. Time to see if he could provoke her.

“I can’t understand why you haven’t already deposed your mother.”

She didn’t even flinch at his words.

“That would be pointless.”

“Because you agree with her aims? Am I to look forward to dealing with another rabid dog barking at my borders once you ascend to the throne?”

“I would not expect to live quite so long, were I you, Your Majesty.”

“We’ll see.” Theron leaned back in his seat.

“You’re rather obtuse, aren’t you?” Epicasta sighed.

The rain picked up, coming down in torrents now. Lightning flashed over the city, the crash of thunder resounding moments later.

“I pride myself on standing in the way of Viridian entitlement to my lands.”

Epicasta shook her head.

“Who am I, Your Majesty?”

Theron raised a brow.

“And what game is this, Princess?”

She squeezed the air from his lungs. He lunged across the table dividing them, his hand on her throat.

“Who am I, Your Majesty?” she hissed.

“A dead woman,” he retorted as he fought to fill his lungs.

“Who. Am. I?”

He squeezed harder. She gripped his hands with a grimace.

“The glass princess, about to shatter.”

She returned his breath to him. He let up, but not completely.

“Precisely,” she replied. “And how does Her Majesty deal with especially troublesome adversaries?”

He let her go as if scalded.

No.

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