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I throw back my hood, stepping directly into the path of the dark-haired one’s weapon. I don’t know why, but I get the sense he’s the informal leader. Regardless, he looks the most approachable of the three. I shove a hand into the pocket of the cloak, withdrawing a smooth stone. It begins to glow red when it comes in contact with my skin.
“My name is Blaze,” I begin, and I have to half-shout over the rumble coming from Axion’s chest. Addpridefulto the list of things wrong with him. He clearly hates being called a beast. “And I’m one of the Chosen. I’m here to speak with your Queen about her part in the prophecy. I think she’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
The man’s expression flickers in surprise, but he doesn’t drop the chakkar. His gaze travels from the stone in my hand to the hellhounds that have formed a protective huddle around me. I’m surrounded on all sides by flaming hounds, and I barely notice the heat. My tolerance for it seems to have somehow grown since they captured me. Something to do with Ransom’s healing magic, maybe.
“If you’re Chosen, why would you cavort with Lycaon’s mutts?” the white-haired male demands—a question I’m expecting.
I wince as a fresh round of snarls erupt around me. These men seem to know the exact wrong thing to say. All the snarling and posturing is going to get one of us killed.
“They don’t belong to Lycaon,” I respond. “Not by choice, at least. That’s what I need to talk to Queen Carmine about. I think there’s a way we can win against Morningstar without major losses. Please, just give us an hour of your time. The fate of Fantasia depends on it.”
CHAPTER NINE
RANSOM
My mate has been ignoring me for the better part of a day. I know I deserve it, but it stings nonetheless.
I scowl down at my plate, rather than meet the eyes I can feel on my face. In the Queen’s’ domain, we are the next best thing to a sideshow attraction. Whispers follow us, shocked, derisive, and suspicious in equal measure. No one seems to believe that we are what we say we are, aside from the huntsmen who saw the transformation for themselves. Even they seem incredulous though, as if they can’t quite believe what they’ve witnessed. We’re not so different from them, shifters in our own right, and it troubles them. We’re meant to be the enemy, something to be cut down quickly.
The cut on my back throbs in time with my heartbeat. The damned blue jay must have coated the blade in poison, or otherwise enchanted it. I haven’t healed this slowly in ages. Not since Lycaon starved me as punishment for spurning Vita. The poison or curse isn’t strong enough to kill me, but it is painful and a reminder of what I’ve lost. Normally, I’d have found a scullery maid willing to take my cock and I would have rutted her until my magic came to the fore. I can heal myself during sex, as well as the person I’m with.
But not now. I’m a mated male, which means my loyalty is only for the female I’ve bonded with. I can’t kindle a spark of magic on my own. I’d have to rut her again if I want the wound closed, and Blaze looks like she’d rather swallow a beetle than couple with me again. Not that I can blame her. Not to mention the fact that she has no idea I’ve mated myself to her.
Her lovely face is turned toward the head of the table, where the Queen of Ascor sits. I suppose the female is comely enough. Her hair is crimson, like a spurt of blood from a vein, too dark to resemble Blaze’s lurid coloring. She’s paler than Blaze as well, almost appearing sickly in comparison. Her eyes are a mercurial silver, the only outward hint to her night hag heritage. She’s leaning her chin into a gloved hand, enraptured by Blaze’s tale.
“You’re absolutely certain?” Carmine asks, chewing her bottom lip. The gesture draws the eye of every single huntsman, their desire thick in the air for her. Someone will be rutting later this evening, but it won’t be me. Lucky bastards. They’re gathered around her at the head of the table, ready to leap into action should we even twitch in her direction.
Blaze casts a glance at Axion, shifting her gaze to Maddox, and finally to me. Her eyes are clouded with doubt, but she nods after a moment. “As sure as I can be. Their chains are real, so I’m inclined to believe they are enslaved by Lycaon. And if what they’re saying about Vita is true, I need your help to prevent the battle from being lost before it’s even begun.”
“Nightshade, Hemlock, Aconite, The Queen of Poisons she shall be, And leach the life from a goddess, Who taints the world tree,” Carmine says, repeating the refrain as though she’s heard them a thousand times before. Her eyes narrow on Blaze after a moment and asks, “Which part of the prophecy applies to you, Blaze?”
“Sightless eyes perceive truth, and draw fire into her breast, to halt the powers of hell, and end a general’s quest,” Blaze recites, sounding just as weary. “That part has to be me. Everyone else has already been found. It looks like the hell part was more literal than I was expecting and if these men are telling the truth, this will certainly end a general’s quest.”
Carmine looks troubled. Her mates (all three of them) are regarding us with open mistrust. I can’t say I blame them. It sounded like a fantastical plan to me when Axiom proposed it, and I know him. Until recently, I would have said he was as close as a brother to me, though our relation is more distant than that, cousins or even second cousins. But we are the three, the first born with our powers in the last generation, and until there’s someone to take our place, we’re the leaders of our people, handling different aspects of the responsibility.
“I don’t like this,” Carmine murmurs. “If I take you at your word, we’ll have to leave at dawn. It isn’t long to arrange for a regent to take care of Ascor. There’s only a few people I trust to do it well in my stead.”
She gives the men at her side a significant glance. The white-haired bird, I believe his name is Sabre, shakes his head vehemently.
“No, Carmine. I won’t.”
“Seconded,” the brown-haired one says. His name is Titan or Titus or something, but I automatically shortened it to ‘Tit’ in my head. Juvenile, yes, but I don’t like how crude he is, even if it isn’t aimed at my mate.
Carmine stares them down. “You said you’d follow my lead when we married. You’re my huntsman and I’m your queen. Do I really have to push my authority here? You know I hate doing it.”
“We’re not leaving you alone withhellhounds,” Sabre says, spitting the last word like a curse. “I will follow your orders just as long as they don’t put your life at an undue risk.”
“I won’t be going alone,” she says, folding her hands primly on the table. The dinner was cleared from the long dining table an hour ago. Our plates had been mostly untouched, only Maddox summoning enough of an appetite to touch the thick steak and fixings sent up from the kitchen. “I’ll bring Draven with me. He’s the fastest and I trust him to stymie an attack if this is some kind of trick. But I trust my instincts. This is my part to play. What kind of Chosen would I be if I don’t rise to it?”
“I’ll protect her if Draven can’t,” Blaze interjects. “My powers are dissimilar enough to theirs that my fire will burn them if they try anything.”
Carmine takes each of the huntsmen’s faces in turn, pressing gentle kisses to their cheeks. Their scowls melt under the attention. It’s clear from the tender way they look at each other that they’re all smitten. I wish to have that for myself. I never expected to end up with a mate who couldn’t love me, and I know I have no chance of falling out of love with her.
Damn me.
I push away from the table and stride away, heading for the chambers that Queen Carmine arranged for us. I can’t stay here, can’t look at Blaze without being reminded painfully of everything I’ve lost. I stride away from the whole lot of them. A hellhound doesn’t show weakness, especially to his utterly ignorant mate.
Blaze calls after me. I ignore her and keep walking. I need peace and quiet, and I know exactly where to find it.
