Page 50 of Tale of the Heart Queen

I narrow my gaze, sure Zerra has to be lying. Lor wouldn’t have just left after killing me. No matter how angry she might have been, she would never have done that. And if she were free, she wouldn’t go after my father first. She would have turned right around and run for her brother and sister. I’m sure of it. I know her better than anyone, and the Lor I know would have sought out her family above all else.

“That still doesn’t explain how I ended up here,” I say.

I’m attempting to piece through the shattered fragments handed to me, and I need as much information as possible.

Zerra’s expression turns to annoyance. “I invited you to dine with me, not suffer through an interrogation.” She plants her elbows on the table and gestures with her chin towards the seat next to her. “Sit down.”

I hesitate, and her eyes flash. The last thing I want is to dine with this woman, but I understand I’m backed into a corner right now. I survey my surroundings, searching for exits, but windows surround us on all sides. However, a window can be used as an exit just as much as a door. There is the issue of us hovering in the middle of nothing and the fact my magic seems to be blocked, but I just need to bide my time.

My gaze then snags on a surprising sight: three pedestals stand at the far end of the room, with three dark objects hovering above each one.

The arks.

Though I saw it for only a second, I remember the object the Mirror hurled at Lor.

“I see you’re admiring my collection,” Zerra says. “It’s been quite a feat to get my hands on these. And soon, I’ll have them all.”

My attention moves back to her. “How so?”

“That’s nothing to concern yourself with.” She pats the end of the table in front of an empty seat on her right. “Come and sit.”

After hesitating for a moment, I pad down the length of the table in my bare feet. My gaze pings to the arks again, and I consider how to trick her into telling me more. How does she plan to get the rest? This might be important for us to know.

The marble floor is cold, but the air is warm. As I approach, Zerra eyes me with naked hunger, and I repress a shudder. I pull out the chair next to her and sit. The position puts me closer to her than I would like.

“Hungry?” she asks.

“Not really.”

I’m starving, but I don’t want anything she’s offering.

“Come now. I was mortal once, even if it was a very long time ago. You haven’t eaten anything for days. You must be famished.”

She ignores whatever I’m about to say and starts to pile food on my plate: strawberries and cheese, a slice of beef, and a chicken leg. She pours gravy over the top, picks up a fork, spears a potato, and holds it out to me. Reluctantly, I reach for it, but she pulls it back.

“Ah ah,” she coos. “I want to feed my fiancé. It’s so romantic, don’t you think?”

I nearly choke on my tongue.

“Fiancé?” I croak.

I know this is a human concept—something to do with their type of bonding.

“Yes,” she says, grinning.

“I . . . don’t understand.”

Zerra pouts again and holds up the fork. “You know, I thought you’d be much smarter than this. But that’s okay. I’ve always preferred my lovers to be pretty and not much else.”

Then she uses her other hand to stroke my bare chest. I shove away from the table, the screech echoing through the hollow room.

“Do not touch me,” I snarl, and her bright blue eyes darken into swirling pits of anger. Her nostrils flare and she sets the fork down, folding her hands on the table.

“You’re shy. I understand. But don’t worry. Soon enough, you’ll be craving my touch. Your ancestor was the same.”

A thousand responses sit perched on my tongue, but I drag in a long breath, attempting to soothe my temper. I’ll do myself no favors by antagonizing her.

“My ancestor?”