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“I’m told you have as much interest in getting rid of the Queen of Homeworld as we do,” I say. “She’s getting reckless with her Elixir consumption; it isn’t a good look for your people.”
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but my people are largely reviled across the Alpha Worlds,” Xanthos says. “We don’t give a damn about appearances.”
“But you must care about maintaining Elixir reserves,” I say. I try to think about all the conversations I’ve overheard in my life about oil and resources and money. “She’s exhausting Elixir so fast that it’s destroying a whole planet—and is she sharing any of it with you all? Don’t you need it to survive?”
The Borean leans forward, and I finally get a chance to get a look at him in a shaft of light from one of the floor lamps. His skin is powder white, his eyes onyx black, and he’s dressed in a long white robe. I might think he was handsome if it weren’t for the malicious smirk on his lips, and the glint of silver in his mouth.
I recognize that glimmer from our last night on the Naiad.
He’s been drinking Elixir himself.
“It’s true that Lamia has a tendency to take more than her fair share, but we have plenty of Elixir left here on Vehyris and the many planets and moons across the Empire,” he says. “Not only that, but there are planets in the uncharted territories that are ripe for conquest. Did you know, for instance, that there is Elixir on Earth?”
My shoulders tense; I’m certain he sees it. Oriongrowlsbeside me.
“Are you threatening me, Xanthos?” I ask quietly.
He chuckles, and I see more silver shining on his teeth. A long, black tongue snakes out of his mouth to glide over those teeth, sweeping Elixir down his throat. It makes me nauseous.
“I’m merely attempting to illustrate the point I’m about to make,” he says. “That point being thatassurancescould be made to protectallof our best interests.”
I’m starting to get angry; it’s something that Nereus and I have tried to control, but I seem to utterly fail every time someone threatens my family or my home. And I don’t even try that hard to keep myself in line when I clench my fist on my left knee, taking a deep breath.
“Stop playing games,” I say. “And consider that you are threatening the future queen of the most powerful planet in the Setna System.”
He blanches back into the darkness, and I don’t have to look at that snide smile anymore. I’m glad he can hear the malice in my voice, that he seems to be taking me seriously.
I may be young, but I’m not a child.
And I’ve been through enough at this point that I don’t fear these kinds of men: men that want to frighten girls.
“Fine,” he says. “My associates in the Empire are interested in one thing, and one thing only: and that is, assurances from thefuture queen of Homeworldthat the Merati will not turn around and attackus. All we want is to be left to our devices, to maintain our Elixir mining operations into perpetuity. We are responsible stewards of the planets we control, though many in your circles seem inclined to disagree.”
I know for a fact that Cressida doesn’t much like these people, and I’m starting to see why. But I don’t think I’m in much of a place to negotiate.
“I can’t make any promises until I’ve had a chance to confer with my allies,” I say. “Can I count on you to set a safe meeting for us with imperial rule on Borealis? All we ask is safe passage in and out.”
“I can only ensure your safety to a certain extent,” he says. “As I mentioned, we aretraders, not diplomats. The levers of power are held by distinct groups, and I don’t know if Lamia has allies in–”
“Or we can end this now and you’ll have made an enemy of me and mine,” I interrupt. “I’ve heard rumors that the only thing stopping Queen Cressida from allying with the Skoll against you is Lamia’s continued meddling on Homeworld…so do you want a deal or not?”
Another glimpse of silver shines in the darkness. He’s smiling.
“Little girls get killed playing games with immortals,” he says. “I would warn you to–”
He doesn’t get another word out.
Orion is up and across the room in a heartbeat, clawed hands wrapping around the Borean’s neck and slamming him against the floor. His hands jerk and I feel the energy in the room shift—like Xanthos is doing something with gravity—but Orion’s tail jerks around one wrist while one of his feet slams to the other, crouching over the man. A strange sensation teases at the edges of my mind, like fingers probing where they don’t belong.
“Touch our minds and you’re dead,” I murmur.
Orion drags him into the light.
And now, I can see him unobscured.
This is what evil looks like.
He isn’t sneering anymore though; he looks terrified, as anyone would with a Mlok Hunter’s claws at their throat, let alone the winner of the Wild Hunt.
