46. Cyara

"What are you doing?"

Cyara managed not to flinch at the clear shock and reprimand in Veyka's sharp voice. She had been expecting it and had prepared herself accordingly. Not even a flutter of wings to betray her nerves.

The queen did not usually make her nervous. But she understood the enormity of what she was about to ask. There was every chance that Veyka was going to react horribly. To be anything other than nervous would be foolish.

Willing her wings not to twitch, she finished unlatching Percival and Diana's restraints and stepped aside to let them approach the table. "They are taking the trays down to the kitchens, where they will assist with the dishes."

Veyka did not move from her seat, did not even reach for the daggers always at her waist. But the look in her blue eyes was clear—it promised pain, dismemberment, and murder if either of the half-witch humans made a move out of line.

"They are prisoners, not servants," Veyka said.

Cyara waited in silence, hands folded in front of herself while the pair gathered up the remnants of the meal. She had been laying the groundwork for this conversation all afternoon. She had spoken with Lyrena about it.

Cyara had no problem contradicting her queen. But she rarely did so without careful thought and preparation.

When Percival and Diana stepped away from the table and started toward the door, Veyka shot to her feet. Cyara was ready for this as well.

"Lyrena will accompany them," she said smoothly. And before the argument in the queen's stormy blue eyes could make its way to her lips, she added, "Your Majesty—Veyka—if we might speak privately?"

The anger melted away from Veyka's eyes instantly. She held her posture, rigid and aggressive, until the door to the outer corridor closed behind Lyrena and the two prisoners. Then she melted as well, her muscles softening, concern clouding her eyes.

"What is it? What's wrong? Are you ill? I told you to stop with the damn bricks." She advanced as she spoke, a mixture of admonition and concern that only Veyka Pendragon could have managed so authentically.

Warmth kindled in Cyara's chest. But she only allowed a small smile to grace her lips.

"It is not the bricks, Veyka," she said. This time when her wings twitched, she did not try and hold it back. Veyka's sharp eyes tracked the motion, the frown lines around her mouth deepening. Cyara hated to manipulate her like this, but she had to win this argument. "You are going to dislike the idea I am about to propose, but I hope you will do me the courtesy of hearing my reasoning to its conclusion."

Veyka took a step backward, unsteady on her feet. The back of her calves hit the footstool that stood by the sofa. She sank down into it, her tall, commanding stature deflating.

"You doubt that I would?" She tried hard to disguise the pain that edged her voice, but Cyara knew her better than anyone, save her mate.

That was not a blow Cyara had intended to level. Ancestors. She wanted Veyka to listen, not to hurt her. She should have known better. The queen was making a good show of it, but her entire world had been ripped apart for the second time in as many years.

But Cyara swallowed back the need to comfort her friend. This was for the good of Veyka, Arran, and all of Annwyn.

"I believe it is time to loosen our hold on Percival and Diana," Cyara said.

Veyka's hand darted to her waist, curling around the hilt of her dagger. Cyara knew she would not draw it. It was an instinctual reaction, a way for Veyka to remind herself that she was in control. "Percival is the one who led us to Gorlois. He stuck a knife in Lyrena's back—my knife."

Cyara nodded. Her hands were still folded in front of her, maintaining the careful picture of composure and calm. "He did so to protect his sister. Surely you can understand that."

Veyka was as good as any elemental at hiding her emotions. It was her default when those emotions ranged high, threatening to surge out of control. But she did not pull that mask into place now.

Another surge of warmth crested in Cyara's chest. Admiration rose as well. To have suffered as Veyka had, to have lost her mate, but not to retreat back to that place of dark apathy…

"Go on," Veyka said. Cyara could not let herself get caught up in her own emotions, either.

"Diana is safe with us. Safer than she would be outside of our protection, on her own in the human realm, even with Percival at her side. No human can protect her the way a fae can." She had thought about it at length and even discussed it with Diana. Diana wanted safety. Percival wanted to protect Diana. Those were motivations they could use to their advantage.

"Not all fae will protect her. The only reason none of the terrestrials have slaughtered her is because she is my prisoner," Veyka countered. There was an edge of brutality in her voice, as if she wished one of the terrestrials would just take care of the problem for her. But Cyara charged on anyway.

"Which is why I do not believe they should be allowed to freely roam Eilean Gayl," she explained. She took a careful, low breath that did not betray her next words. "I think we should give them over into the care of the priestess here."

Veyka's bright blue eyes blew wide with surprise. Followed quickly by a low growl that Cyara vaguely noted would have made Arran proud, before rushing on with her proposal.

"Lady Elayne has told us that the priestess here is loyal to her, that she and her acolyte do not grasp for more power than their due. They are also the keepers of the ancient texts, in lieu of a formal library."

Veyka's mouth went from surprise, to snarl, and then to pursed as she realized what Cyara was implying. "There could very well be a library in Cayltay."

"There is," Cyara agreed. She had confirmed as much by speaking to the friendlier terrestrials at Eilean Gayl. "But we are not leaving for Wolf Bay yet. We do not know the disposition of the priestesses there. But here, we might use Diana and Percival to our own purposes. They grew up in Avalon. They are more likely than any of us elementals to be trusted by the terrestrial priestesses, taken into their confidence, and given access to the ancient tomes."

Veyka exhaled slowly through her nose. "You think the priestess may have information about the succubus."

"I think that they may not realize what information they hold." That was the truth. Cyara doubted that they would find the word succubus anywhere in the lore of the terrestrials. If Lady Elayne was half the female Cyara expected she was, she had already asked the priestess about it. But that did not mean there was no record of their foe. Only that it had not been named as such.

But all of those musings were immaterial if the queen refused.

Veyka stared at her for several minutes. The time stretched out between them, but Cyara did not breach it. She had asked Veyka to listen, and she had. Now she must give her the time to sort through it all in her head. Cyara knew that for all that Veyka proclaimed them equals, and discussed her thoughts openly with the Knights of the Round Table, the only person with her full confidence had been Arran. With him ripped away, she could not fathom what eddies swirled and tugged at Veyka's mind.

Finally, she signed and pushed to her feet. "You have spoken to Diana?"

Cyara nodded. "Yes."

"And you believe that Percival will comply as well?" Veyka asked, eyes drifting to the place on the wall where the traitor had been anchored since their arrival. The expression in her eyes was clear—she still thought him a traitor.

"I do," Cyara answered steadily. No twitch of her white wings.

Veyka's chin stabbed the air sharply as she turned away, decision made.

"Fine," she said over her shoulder. "You will stay and monitor them while Lyrena and I go to the amorite mines. Isolde will stay with you as well. The Faeries of the Fen did not forget the succubus, even when the rest of the fae did. She may be helpful to you."

She walked to the door that connected the sitting room to her own chamber. Not a retreat, but a dismissal. The decision was made, she would not question it. At least, not to anyone but herself. But she paused in the doorway, turning back and spearing Cyara with a look so intense, she found herself unable to move.

"You did not expect me to agree," Veyka said.

Cyara's swallow was audible. "I was not certain."

"That must have been difficult for you." Veyka smirked. But then her gaze softened. "I love you, Cyara. You have my trust to see this through."

Veyka turned for the door. But before she could open it, the other clanged open noisily. To both of their surprise, it was Percival who stood panting in the arched doorway. The queen had a dagger in her hand before he even got the sentence out. "Isolde is missing."