Page 73 of Of Serpents and Ruins
Brandt tore his gaze away from me, his expression downcast. He gripped the right arm of the throne, his powerful muscles working as he dug his fingers into the stone ridges.
I understood.
I shouldn’t be looking at him either.
My blood was heating. It was hard to focus.
Hard to think.
Hard to do anything except stand here with my fingers working against my palms.
I drove my fingernails deep into my skin, and the sharpness brought clarity back to my mind, not enough to shake off Brandt’s effects or the desire to fling myself at him and mount him on his throne, but enough to at least pretend to be a mature, composed adult.
One of the attendants slipped alongside me and gestured to four empty chairs at the end. I took a seat in the farthest one directly across from Brandt, smoothing my skirt down over my legs.
A muscle jumped in Brandt’s jaw as he looked away. The carved black throne he sat on was oversized. Large enough for two. The goblets had liquid in them and were both fastened to a side. Did he just like to have two beverages?
No. Even without his saying so, I suddenly understood.
My heart swelled, my breath catching in my throat.
I forced myself to look around the chamber once more, taking note of the people present as Kine and Elias sat next to me. Hord refused to sit but strode to the left of the dais next to Candy.
I frowned. Yes, Candy was here, but she sat in a curved bastion chair between a red-haired councilor and Hord.
Interesting.
Despite my jealousy, Candy didn’t seem like a rival. She wasn’t standing close to Brandt, nor was she seated with him onthe throne, and when she lifted her hand and smiled at me, that smile reached her eyes. Little wrinkles even formed along the creases of her eyes. She wore lavender today with a red tabard and a black belt, the red and black the primary indicators of her connection to Brandt.
I forced myself to look back at the older flame-haired man. His name was Tile. I knew I had liked Tile. He was dry and a little prone to wordiness, but he’d been a good man.
His nose wrinkled as if he were about to sneeze, but he seemed to be agreeing with something. "Yes. The queen’s identity has been established sufficiently for me."
"Not for me," one of the others said. His dark-red eyes glistened like his oiled beard. "You’ve always been biased toward the queen and the king’s indulgences with her absence. This is all too convenient." His focus shifted to me. "You were named Stella when you were reborn in the other world as well?" The man's shaggy brows lifted.
A woman in dark red—another I knew even if I couldn't place her name—stared, her mouth pinched with disapproval.
No one looked pleased. Elias’s fist knotted.
Annoyance flared through me, but the growl that followed didn't come from me. Brandt was glaring at them. Had he just growled at them?
My brows lifted. Then I cleared my throat, finding it easier to choose a more diplomatic response. "No. On Earth, I was named Margot Joy, but it didn't suit me. I chose the name Stella for myself after I turned sixteen, about eleven years ago. It felt…right."
And it had been right in ways I couldn't even understand.
"Enough." Brandt struck his fist against the arm of the throne, his gaze dark, his voice little more than a growl. "The purpose of this meeting is not to interrogate her. I know who she is. Her beast knows who she is. Her brother knows whoshe is. The Master of Sight knows who she is. The other seven royals who sacrificed themselves over fifty years ago have also been returned. There is no reason to believe that Stella is not who I say she is.Sheis my queen." He jabbed his finger in my direction.
My stomach somersaulted. The way he said that… If I'd wanted to climb him before, then I wanted to jump him now. Or let him jump me.
Heat flared in my cheeks. Thank goodness no one here was a mind reader.
I lifted my chin and avoided looking at him. "I understand that this is difficult and everyone is struggling with our countdown, but finding a way to stop the Gola Resh and her curses is most important. In just a matter of days, nothing else will matter."
"Well said." Another older man—one with dark-blond hair and silver eyes—bowed his head. He spoke in a more familial way, as if we shared some sort of connection. I wanted to call him Kend or something like that. "The Gola Resh’s purpose is torment and vengeance, and there is no purpose in wasting further time."
Several of the others murmured their agreement.
A black-and-red-haired man who looked like he might be an older uncle to Brandt lifted his chin. "And what if all of this is a ruse from the Gola Resh to capitalize upon our desire for the queen’s return?"
