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It was that sight that sent my heart skipping more than anything – the Silent Death, made powerless.
Was this the end, then?
Hell, what could be easier than for Ophion to slice that whetted alf steel edge through my vulnerable skin and veins in the next moment?
That staircase on the other side of the basement seemed to be laughing at me.
‘Ah, little dove,’ the Mother’s lover purred, slowly, theatrically – as if we had all the time in the world together. As if my lifespan hadn’t just shortened itself from eternity into a matter of seconds. ‘What a joy to see you again. I’ve been looking forward to our reunion – haven’t you, love?’
There was such venom in his taunting voice. A more tangible reminder than the blade he held that he had neither forgotten nor forgiven that day I’d made a mockery of him at the Golden Court, then run a dagger through his wings to add to the injury – the day Lyn had held him down, not unlike how he was holding me now, arms around shoulders, alf steel to the throat. I wanted to swallow but didn’t dare to. His knife was so close I feared I’d slit my own bobbing throat.
‘And what a good job you’ve done.’ His slick, self-satisfied drawl crawled over the skin of my cheek and ear; again I had to suppress the urge to retch. ‘Making it all the way here so swiftly. I’m sure father-dear would be ever so proud of you, if he lived to hear the tale.’
I shouldn’t have taken the bait – shouldn’t have shown him I cared, and yet I couldn’t help myself. ‘Oh, fuckoff, will you?’
He chuckled, shifting his knife half an inch and tugging the silk cuff of his sleeve back down. ‘Oh, I’m so very sorry, Emelin, but the two of us are going to have a little chat first. Well, the three of us, strictly speaking’ – another chuckle – ‘but our princeling tends to be quiet in conversations, doesn’t he?’
So he didn’t know.
I met the furious intensity of Creon’s gaze and tried to shake my head without moving anything but my eyes.Don’t give the game away just to shock him.It might not work. It might only motivate Ophionmoreto do away with me, just to keep the bindings safe on the Mother’s behalf, and then what chance would we have left to stop them?
Either my frantic eye movements got the message across, or Creon’s thoughts had gone down the same path. He didn’t move, his stony face unreadable, his eyes burning like obsidian fire. On the other side of the room, Alyra was a fluffy little orb of anger, ready to launch herself at Ophion as soon as any opportunity revealed itself.
Better to keep him talking, before she unexpectedly decided this was the moment.
‘What do you want to chat about?’ I breathlessly managed, torn between shrinking away from the cold steel edge at my throat and getting as far away from Ophion’s tall body as I could.
‘A proposal.’ He spoke faster, suddenly, no more theatrics. ‘To save both of our lives, as it so happens. I assume you might be interested in a discussion to that effect?’
What?
Savemylife –Ophion?
‘Please continue.’ My voice sounded strangled. My neck was starting to hurt from the unnatural way I bent it to keep myself uncut and alive. ‘I’m all ears.’
‘As I was hoping, little dove,’ he drawled, all slick arrogance again, the reversal just as abrupt as his first change in tone. ‘I’m not a fool, you see. I could slit your pretty little throat, and your darling prince would be more than happy to spend the next five months carving me to pieces – he gets rather excited about that sort of thing, doesn’t he?’
It didn’t seem in my best interests to correct him on that last point. Creon’s glass-edged expression suggested the rest of the argument was true enough to make up for it, anyway.
‘So?’ I managed.
‘So I’m offering you a way out.’ A small, drawn-out silence. ‘I keep you alive and tell you what you’ll need to survive the rest of this day. You’ll keep me alive in exchange. A lovely bargain for all of us … so what do you say, little dove?’
I wasn’t saying anything.
I’d momentarily forgotten how to move my tongue.
I must have misunderstood him, surely? Must have misheard some part of that smooth-tongued monologue? He couldn’t truly be suggesting he’d betray the Mother’s secrets and strategies to us if we went along with him –he, Ophion Kinslayer, the very same male who’d murdered his own parents and sisters to win her favours during her conquest of the fae isles. The same male who’d taken a god’s place in her bed.
Utterly nonsensical … but something suspiciously like shock was mellowing the sharpest lines of Creon’s face, too.
A lovely bargain.
What in the world?
‘If you’re trying so hard to save your own life,’ I rasped, ‘why did you bother to attack us at all? You could just have let us pass. We hadn’t noticed you. And it doesn’t appear you were particularly moved by your loyalty to the ladyship’s cause, either.’
‘They’d punish me.’ He bit out the answer as soon as I stopped speaking. ‘I was assigned the responsibility to stop you before this point, and they don’t take failure lightly. Ask Hytherion – he knows all about it.’
