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“We really need to head down to the festival and get the rituals started,” Orpheus said. “Sabina, we’ll discuss this matter later. But I’ll urge you in the meantime to really think about the opportunity. I really do think you’d be an excellent leader.”
I nodded and crossed my arms. “We’ll see.”
31
A gauntlet of vampire, fae, and mage security guarded the entrance to the Sacred Grove. No weapons, magical or mundane, were allowed.
The vampires had argued that mages should be required to wear brass bands, but Orpheus had held firm. Vampires without weapons still had fangs and preternatural abilities. Therefore, he argued, mages should not be handicapped by magic-dampening brass. The Despina agreed only because enough guards were around so that if any fights broke out someone could step in quickly. In addition, the leaders sat behind a table inlaid with brass. Not only would this prevent any spells from reaching them but it also assured the Despina that the mages couldn’t alter the peace treaty with any last-minute spells.
Because of my position as High Priestess of the Blood Moon, I was allowed to sit in the front row on the mage side. I sat next to the rest of the Council and Rhea. As my minion, Giguhl was allowed to sit with me but I’d insisted he stay in cat form to avoid making the security nervous. After all, a hairless cat in a black fleece sweater and hat was far less imposing than a seven-foot-tall demon with black horns.
Adam was on guard duty so he stood up on the dais behind Orpheus and Maisie. He wore the ceremonial black chiton that identified him as a Pythian Guard. He looked so handsome and proud that my chest tightened. It was the first time I’d seen him since our nasty fight and it was more difficult than I’d anticipated. It was easy to build myself up as the injured party when I wasn’t looking at him. But now? Now I had to face the fact that our problems were as much—if not more—my fault as his.
The fact we’d both been through hell together to make this night possible made the moment even more bittersweet. We should be standing side by side, enjoying this victory together. Instead, we were separated by both physical and emotional distance. Distance I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to breach.
Tanith sat between Orpheus and Queen Maeve. Persephone cowered in the background, flanked by guards. It could have been my own prejudice talking but it seemed like they were holding her captive as much as protecting her.
Alexis stood behind Tanith’s other shoulder. Her eyes scanned the crowd like a sentinel, searching for any hint of a threat. On one of her passes, her eyes landed on me. A slight tightening of her jaw was the only indication of emotion. Alexis might be a hothead, but she’d been trained well. Once the job was done, she’d probably vent her anger on some unsuspecting mortal. But in the meantime, she’d do the job.
Queen Maeve looked… confusing. Her tunic was winter white. Winterberry-red embroidery danced along the high tab collar and wide cuffs at her wrists. Rubies twinkled from her Celtic scrollwork crown. But it wasn’t her outfit that confused me. It was her aged appearance. Last time I’d seen her she looked like she’d done more than fifty hard years of living. Now, her pale, gnarled hand gripped a wooden cane adorned with bay leaves, white flowers, and blackberry vine, and her face had taken on the translucent, papery cast of an octogenarian.
I leaned over to Rhea. “Is the Queen ill?” I whispered.
Rhea frowned at me. “No, why?”
“She looks like she’s aged twenty or thirty years since I saw her in November.”
Rhea snorted before she could stop herself. A couple of tight-assed fae courtiers shot nasty glares in our direction. Rhea nodded to them and schooled her features. Leaning in, she whispered, “Remind me to give you a lesson in the Queen’s quadruple nature.”
“Mind giving me a quick overview in the meantime?”
“She ages twenty-one years every season, which takes her through all the stages of a female’s life—child, maiden, mother, crone. It’s winter, so right now she’s in her crone stage. Just before the spring equinox, she’ll die and come back as a child and start the whole cycle over again.”
I pulled back, giving Rhea a no-shit look. My mentor nodded to assure me she wasn’t kidding. “That’s f**ked up.”
I turned my gaze back on the Queen, looking at her with new eyes.
“Each new equinox and solstice takes the Queen into a new stage of life. That’s why the courtiers’ costumes and customs always correspond to the seasons. They’re honoring each new stage of her life.”
“I always wondered about that. I guess it makes sense, though.”
Rhea nodded. “That’s also why they wanted to get the treaty signed now,” Rhea continued. “The closer she gets to spring, the weaker she becomes.”
I nodded, my eyes still on the regent. She had to be thousands of years old. And each of those years she’d sped through a complete life cycle. No wonder she was so bitchy. I would be, too, if I had to go through puberty again every year for millennia.
Onstage, Orpheus rose and clacked his gavel on the table. Normally, the beginning of diplomatic speeches would have me sighing and preparing for hours of boredom. But Rhea had told me the leaders all decided to keep the long speeches to a minimum. Everyone, it seemed, just wanted the peace treaty signed, sealed, and sanctified.
After brief opening remarks where he welcomed everyone, Orpheus surrendered the stage to Maisie. “And now, Maisie Graecus, High Priestess of the Chaste Moon and the Oracle of New York, will offer the traditional Imbolc prophecy for the coming year.”
I crossed my arms and braced myself for the moment of truth. Even though Rhea claimed Maisie was ready to deliver a prophecy, I knew better than to relax. After everything we’d been through with my twin, I couldn’t quite trust that one dream incubation miraculously cured her.
Maisie rose from her seat. She wore a white chiton that skimmed her curves. Her hair was wrapped into a chignon at the nape of her slender neck and her skin glowed in the torchlight. I couldn’t tell if her improved appearance was the result of a glamour or if the incubation had improved her overall health, but she looked beautiful and every inch the High Priestess.
I held my breath as she gathered herself to speak. This was her first public appearance since she’d returned to New York. She’d been in the Council meetings, of course, but a room full of allies is a world of difference from an official gathering where everyone was depending on her to predict a peaceful resolution to centuries of hostilities.
