Page 7 of Elysian

I tensed with the urge to throw myself forward to wrap my hands around her neck.

“Do not,” Egan whispered so low I almost could not make out his words.

I forced myself to focus, blinking until the parlor came into view. Drusilla sat across from Vaner who lounged on a throne much too large for his slighter frame.

“You are too emotional about this. It is best that Al handles the Elysian Pair.” Vaner turned to us, that slimy smile aimed at me.

Drusilla followed his gaze. Her lips thinned, and she went silent.

“You two continue to argue over this?” Al tsked, passing as the slab of stone sealed behind him. “There are steps that must be taken, Lady Drusilla,” he offered, his tone even. “Take the girl to my laboratory, young Vaner,” he shooed us off.

Egan did not hesitate, taking a sharp turn through a propped open door braced by two officers.

The officer rushed beside Egan. “Here, sir,” he stuttered, holding out the jingling key ring. Egan balanced me in one arm and took the keys from the officer to clip it to his belt. With a slight nod, he returned the chamber we just left.

Had the Guard been in on it from the start? I looked at Egan again. Who better to ask?

“You have known what they planned to do to Cassiel?”

His blue eyes flicked down toward me briefly. “Yes.”

“How can the Guard go along with all of this?” I tried to keep my tone as even as possible when what I wanted to do was scream.

“This has been planned since before I was born, Amara,” he murmured. “Every piece perfectly lined up across the board. Officers who had pure loyalty to the council were placed in powerful positions.”

“That’s why you’re a sergeant now.”

He only inclined his head. “Lord Draven has not been placed as a figurehead by pure chance before father destroyed any evidence of the old world.”

“Did you know what I had when I shoved it into your coat?”

“No.” There was sincerity in his blue eyes. Then he drew in a sharp breath, and when I turned my head, I saw the two officers guarding the entrance to the council wing.

“Sir,” they chorused, and one of them opened the door to the hall section that led toward Al’s workspace entrance.

Egan strode through. Raised voices echoed. The female one, very familiar.

“Vera?!” I pressed my palm against Egan’s chest, pushing up, but he stiffened his grip with a curse.

“Stop,” he hissed.

The recognizable swish of slippers padding across the polished floors sounded. Vera and Branwen rounded into view.

“You will get them killed,” he warned. I froze in his arms, meeting his eyes. “It will behoove you to play along if you do not want them to disappear.”

I could hear my pulse in my ears, loud and rapid. Squeezing my nails into my palms helped calm my panic.

“They believe the lies,” Egan said. “You are no longer Amara. Understood?”

Vera and Branwen reached us, their faces drawn and wide. I didn’t reach for them in a hug as I wanted. I kept my expression bland. They slowed, visibly growing more confused.

“This is the king’s consort.”

Vera and Branwen shared a frown. Vera opened her mouth, and Branwen gripped her arm. In a smooth glide, she curtsied. Vera followed her lead after a beat.

“My lady,” Branwen murmured. “I apologize for our hasty approach.”

Vera’s eyebrows furrowed. “I could have sworn I heard Amara.”