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“You know how.”
“The god with no name.”
Another hoity laugh resounded around the room. “Has he not told you his name yet? Surely he has.”
“Invictus.”
Idalia nodded. She was about to go into great detail about the book she’d discovered that inspired it all. The Book of Invictus. It had been tucked away in the farthest corner of the miserable library that served River’s Bend. She had sworn it had called her name, much like the staff spoke to her, so did the book.
Before she could launch into that particular facet of her tale there was a soft knock against the door. Burked moved to open it just wide enough to peek out.
“Our visitor is here.”
“Well, have her brought in here. I didn’t have this room dusted from top to bottom for nothing,” the queen called from her seat.
The door closed and they waited. Heat from Ambrose’s gaze burned against Idalia’s skin. She wasn’t certain what her sister was thinking after finally learning all the evils she had done to get them here. Evils done in the name of what was good for them all. Idalia was just the only one who wasn’t too scared to go through with it. In the end, she knew they would thank her. They just needed time to adjust and a little perspective.
In the pits of her stomach, a nervous fluttering like birds taking flight was stirring. Part of her needed to explain all of this to Aylee. Sheneededher to understand. They were not enemies.
But instead of her sister’s familiar face, a stranger appeared in her sitting room. “May I present, Mr. Rehan Delmario.” The servant bowed low before escorting himself out of the room leaving Queen Idalia, Queen Ambrose, and Burke alone with this man named Rehan.
“Your majesties,” the man said as he too gave a small bow. There wasn’t much remarkable about him. A plain square jaw, short brown hair, and a slender but muscular build. No, the only thing that caught the queen’s attention was his own vibrant sunset eyes.
“You are not Aylee.” Queen Idalia stood.
“I am not. I’ve come on her behalf. Think of me as her official emissary. May I take a seat?”
“Emissary.” She scoffed but flung her hand out in invitation for him to sit. “As if she requires one.”
Rehan lowered himself onto the brown leather chair nearest their unlit hearth. He crossed one knee over the other and interlaced his fingers in his lap, a confident but apathetic pose. “As you can imagine it is hard for her to see you.”
“She’s still mad then.”
“Of course she is still mad,” Ambrose interjected. “How does one get over being killed by your own sisters?”
Idalia sniffed and lifted her chin. “You seemed to do well enough.”
“Yes, well I am in a much different position than Aylee who has been on her own all this time.”
The nervousness inside of her disappeared. There was no reason for it since she didn’t have to explain a thing to Aylee today. Now she had to plead her case to this man and hope he did her cause justice. Her eyes shifted to the staff still leaning against the wall.
She could always make him convince her…though that might take a lot more energy than she was ready to give.
“It will not work on me, I’m afraid,” her guest said, his tone gentle. He smiled a little and the small act brightened his face in a very appealing way. “I’m made of the same power that your staff contains and helps you wield. Also, Aylee prefers to go by Ace now.”
Ace. Queen Idalia snorted at that. The cutesy little nickname their father had given her, that was what she chose to go by? How precious.
“How exactly did you come about then?” Unable to use what little she had against this stranger, she lowered herself back into her seat. She busied herself with smoothing her skirt and fluffing it around her until she looked the pristine image a queen should.
“The gods brought me back themselves. No bargains for power. No bloody betrayals. I was meant to be Ace’s companion and to help aid her in her mission.”
“She’s meant to kill us, isn’t she?” Ambrose whispered.
“What? No, that is insane.” Burke was stalking back and forth now behind the couch, his brows pulled tightly together until wrinkles creased his forehead.
Rehan’s attention drifted over the room. He took his time taking in the costly handmade curtains and rugs, the commissioned paintings hung at perfect intervals, and the luxurious furniture they all sat upon. After he looked satisfied with his inventory of the space he finally spoke again.
“I am not at liberty to share such things.”
