Page 108 of Queen of Legends and Lies
“That woman played us all.” Alannah’s wrinkled face hardens in disgust. She’s been so quiet, I’d almost forgotten about her presence. “To ingratiate herself and further Xenon’s agenda. We welcomed a viper into our midst.”
“It would seem so.” Eldor fingers his dagger, head bowed as if he’s addressing the sharp point of the weapon instead of us. “Doing a favor for someone at the first meeting is one of the easiest ways to get people to trust you. They’ll feel obliged to help you out later.”
Sterling eases back in his seat, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Well, don’t I feel special. Used as a mere pawn in Celeste’s scheme.”
Agnar’s brow furrows as he leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “What I still don’t understand is why Xenon allowed Celeste to return Knox at all. Surely, he knew the risk, with Knox and Lark’s ability to merge powers…”
“Ah, but that’s just it.” Eldor sheathes the dagger and straightens. “At the time, Xenon likely had no inkling that powers even could be merged. None of us did.” He gestures to the ancient tomes scattered across the table. “It was lost knowledge, buried deep in the annals of history. Until Lark and Knox rediscovered it, quite by accident.”
More puzzle pieces start clicking into place. “I only managed it because of Mar’s guidance in the dream realm. Connecting with Knox on that ethereal plane.”
Sterling’s calloused fingers twine with mine in silent comfort, an anchor in the storm. Grateful for his presence, I squeeze his hand.
As we continue to dissect Celeste’s motives, an insidious pattern emerges. Vicar Moise and Lord Serle gave her every claim their unwavering support. And they influenced the rest of the council by steering them like puppets on invisible strings.
Revulsion churns in my gut. How deep does this treachery run? Are Moise and Serle merely misguided, or are they willing collaborators in Xenon’s plot? “We have much to do and little time to waste. Grandfather, Bastian, I need you to comb through those books. Any scrap of knowledge about merged powers or Xenon’s weaknesses, I want to know.”
The scholars nod, already hunching over the dusty pages with renewed fervor.
I turn to Agnar, a grim smile touching my lips. “Gather the palace guard. Bolster our defenses and prepare for any eventuality. If Xenon intends to strike, we’ll be ready.”
Agnar rises, fist thumping against his chest in salute. “We’ve already gotten your orders about the walls and keeping ammunition for magic users in the yard.” His eyes gleam with anticipation, like he’s spoiling for a fight.
I almost pity any enemy foolish enough to test his mettle.
As the others disperse to their assigned tasks, Sterling tugs me closer. His breath whispers against my ear, hot and sensual despite the dire situation.
“And what about us, my queen?” His low, rumbling voice is full of promise and danger. “What’s our next move?”
“We’re going to have a little chat with Celeste. And this time, she’ll reveal the full extent of her treason. Whether she wants to or not.”
Time to confront the snake in her nest.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I stride through the wide palace halls flanked by Sterling and four of my royal guards, including Captain Fitz. The vaulted ceilings loom above us as we venture toward the staircase that leads to the dungeon deep below the palace proper.
At least I know my orders were followed and that sneaky viper Celeste is finally locked up where she belongs. She can’t cause any more trouble from inside a cell.
In the dungeon, the ceiling is much lower. I remember it all too well from my own stay in these cells. The stuffy, suffocating air. Rank smells from the old-fashioned chamber pots. Barely even a bucket. Desperation and misery are soaked into the coarse stone walls and dirt floors. Along with other things that left stains I’d rather not think about.
But as we approach the heavy iron doors, my steps falter.
The two guards stationed across the hall from the locked room look…wrong.
Their eyes are wide and glassy. Sweat pours down their faces as they stare sightlessly from their posts. Getting closer, I can tell one man is actually drooling, spittle dripping down his chin. The other keeps muttering, clenching his fists, and jerking his head back and forth.
Captain Fitz runs past me, hand on his sword. “What’s going on here? Report!” He puts himself between us and the guards.
Neither guard can form a coherent response, only agitated mumbling and twitching.
Stretching up, I peer over his shoulder while keeping my distance. I’d know those signs anywhere. They’ve taken eyril. And way too much of it. Possibly a lethal amount.
This is bad.
Ignoring Fitz’s warning hand directing me to stay back, I shove past the guards with Sterling at my side. Shock ripples through me when the spaces between the iron bars reveal an empty cell.
Celeste is gone.
