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The lights flicker, and images beyond the mirror come to life. It’s a long table full of assholes staring back at me. There’s a moment when I expect to see Dean amongst them, but he’s not there, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Sit back,” I hear. One man stands at the end of the table, one hand behind his back and a smirk on his face.
I do as I’m told, crossing my legs and trying not to fidget. The man in the center catches my attention, clearly standing out amongst the rest.
His Eminency sits higher, making him tower over the line of adherents at his sides. Wearing a cloak with gold symbols, he looks younger than I expected. Dark shadows cut across his sharp features, and he rests his hand on his jaw, staring down at me. His AOE brands are on the back of both of his hands in black tattoos, and if he pulled back those sleeves, I bet there would be more. His entire body is a monument to the great cause.
Maybe forty years old, I’d consider him handsome if he wasn’t a disgusting human, but there’s a look to him that seems off. It’s an aloof boredom, as if he’s struggling to be present.
Waving a hand at the man speaking, he appears tired from the day of people worshiping at his altar. My family’s fate is at the whim of his mood, and right now, he doesn’t look impressed.
“A. Rowan Lawson Rivera, your Eminency,” the man calls out. “As requested.”
The dullness in his eyes flickers off, and he sits up, roused by the sound of my name.
I put my hands on the armrests and straighten my back. His eyes flick to my chest, and without him speaking a word, I know a few critical things about this Eminent.
“The subject, Rowan, as she likes to be called, is here after rest and recovery in our medical unit,” the man says. “Our guards found her above ground at the beginning of the storm that continues to rage above our heads.”
I hold my breath with those words. In all the storms, one has never lasted this long. The ships are out there, full of good people, and I hope they made it far enough away from the last global killer.
“All others in her party cleared with military identification or they were minors,” he continues. “Her identity is… under review.”
The Eminent sits back and pops a heel on his knee, tapping his fingers in a prayer symbol under his chin. If he means to be intimidating, he missed the mark. I saw the face of Dean Riggs only a few moments ago.
The speaker clears his throat, continuing on with his tiresome speech. “There are various homelands for the party, but they recently inhabited an island destroyed by earlier storms. Prior to that, it was a ship, the Thalassa. A. Rowan Lawson Rivera was not on the original manifest, although there was an Ashley Lawson approved to board.”
With every fact this man spits out, my hands clench the fabric of the armrest. I imagine striking the speaker in the face. His every word begs them to hang me here and now, and in their written law, they should. I’m not a member of the Assembly, and given the chance, I’d burn this place from the inside out, taking every follower with me.
I keep the rest of my body relaxed, refusing to show how nervous and angered I am, but my nails tear through the cloth with his next words.
“Her… husband.” The speaker pauses and raises an eyebrow, but the Eminent doesn’t look in his direction. “Nico Rivera is cleared, although we are still validating why his whereabouts changed so much and so suddenly. His expertise is being put to good use to fix… the incident.”
I smile without teeth at the speaker. He clearly wanted to end his speech with, “Off with her head!” but resisted. No matter what happens next, he just told me Sam’s alive, and for that, I’m grateful.
“You’re like a rat,” the Eminent says. His voice is baritone, bringing everyone to attention. Even though his words are nasty, they come out smooth and deep, making the insult sound dignified.
He leans forward and grins, his eyes darting to the fresh scar on my arm that peeks through.
“A recent devotee,” he smiles. His white teeth sparkle in my direction, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. He wants me to feel intimidation and fear. That’s what he’s used to, and that’s how he controls people.
“You’re very concerned about timelines here,” I say, keeping my words light. I almost sing them out, making myself small and feminine in his eyes.
“I don’t have any concerns,” the Eminent says.
“In life or with me?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away, but casts his eyes across every inch of my body until he meets my gaze. Everyone at the table stills, trying not to draw attention to themselves. They’re all jumpy in his presence, as if the clang of a teacup or the sound of a cough might send him into a rage.
“I rather like rats,” he admits. “The prowess of a rat is unmatched by almost every animal.” He sweeps his long hair behind his shoulders, smiling at my new monicker. “Did you know rats can survive in water for almost a week?” He snaps in the face of a man on his side, beckoning him to answer.
“I-I didn’t know t-that?” the man says.
“They can fall off a five-story building and survive,” the Eminent continues. “No one wants them around getting into food and making people sick, but if you think about it, rats are far better survivors than any of us here.”
I notice a few people lick their lips or swallow, restless and confused in their seats. This is out of the ordinary, and they’re uncomfortable, unsure how to react to his assessment of the stranger that sits in their castle. I take it I should be dead or sent off to his concubine by now.
“Do you like rats?” he asks the man who made the speech.
