Chapter Two Vasili

It isn't often yours truly is caught by surprise.

Anyone at this Academy will tell you. I've built my horrible reputation around being hard to startle and easy to enrage.

Yet here I stand, caught flat-footed and slack-jawed, like the village idiot. Reeling as though I've just been sucker-punched.

Is it the sight of my little queen getting ambushed at her own birthday bash? Going toe to toe while the cameras roll with the bitchy bestie who betrayed her and the ex-lover who did his damnedest to get her kidnapped or killed?

Well, I'm certainly not amused.

But that isn't the reason I'm reeling.

I'm reeling because I've just made the staggering connection between Zara's ex-BFF (whom she never cares to discuss) and my own family history with the fishy bitch.

All through my cold and loveless childhood, the Ferrari girl now stealing the limelight was the favorite deadly protégée of my fucking father.

Nikolai Romanov.

His name alone is enough to trigger the ugly landslide of loneliness and shame I've never really left behind.

And to ignite my rage.

Especially when that arrogant former flame of Zara's—Xiao Long Zheng—prowls in close, all sleek muscles and dangerous attitude, looking like a fuckable feast in an Armani tux that's open to show off the gold chain at his throat .

Dear fuck.

I'm incensed, but I manage to close my mouth, fix my face, and pull myself together. This is simply not the time to deal with my truckload of unresolved queer-boy-rejected-and-tossed-away-by-Daddy emotional garbage.

It's time to deal with Xiao.

Surely, he can't be planning to kiss her?

"Looking good tonight, bambina . Even if you're out of uni. Didn't you get the memo about the purple?" With a cocky grin, the bastard reaches for her.

I really can't imagine what she'll do.

Zara may be the only guest on this party boat (including the pop diva) who's not wearing the royal purple. But Zara isn't the same girl these two betrayed in Singapore. Since then, she's claimed her power.

She's become the Gemini queen.

In fact, my darling girl is already levitating in her Jimmy Choo shoes, floating a few inches off the deck, teal hair swirling around her shoulders, violet sparks dancing along her fingers. And the fact that Ferrari bitch and her boyfriend—who is clearly no warlock—aren't batting an eye?

Color me suspicious.

"Don't even think about touching me," Zara growls at both her exes. If those two had any sense, hearing the spooky metallic resonance of her lightning voice, they'd be pissing themselves. "What are you even doing on this yacht?"

"Invited." That bastard ex-beau of hers gives a cocky shrug, but he's smart enough (barely) to keep his distance. "Guess the gloves are off now, aren't they? I tried to tell you about Cleo that night in Vegas, but did you listen? Nope, instead you were obsessed with—"

"Enough, bello ." The Ferrari bitch doesn't even twitch. But her cool voice reels him in like a fish.

Lover Boy falls silent and retreats to Cleo's side, where she clearly prefers him.

Now he's sulking.

Truly, it isn't a good look.

Zara lowers her floating form to alight on the deck. I slink into the shadows near the bar to regain my famously cool composure. There I lurk like the rattlesnake I am, just waiting for some unsuspecting fool to annoy me.

Then I'll strike.

Magically speaking, I'm the biggest threat on this megayacht. I'm the most lethal warlock in our polycule, not to mention the most actively homicidal. Especially now that I've grasped the connection (which can't be a coincidence) between Zara's ex-BFF and my funnel web spider of a father.

Yet, somehow, both members of Zara's former ménage seem to have overlooked me. Which isn't easy to do. I'm a gorgeous six feet-plus of celebrity warlock fashionably sporting a violet tux and a gilded mane of rock-star hair.

From this vantage, I can't see my little queen's face. But her voice is positively stony. "She's a grifter. You're a hacker. I was the one who took the risks. I had your backs. Always. But you—didn't have mine."

Finally, Zara's brittle voice fractures. "How many more secrets are you hiding?"

My little darling's pain makes me more than annoyed. I'm positively murderous. My eyes narrow to slits and my chest burns with a rising tide of rage.

" Bene. The time for secrets is over. Tonight is the night I finally tell you mine." Cleo Ferrari has all the poise of a runway model, including the ability to strike a pose. Every move this girl makes is calculated. Now she shifts a sinuous hip under her sleek designer gown and touches a manicured finger to her pouty lip. "You know. This doesn't have to end unpleasantly for you, bella ."

Now my own lip curls in a snarl.

What I know is that Ferrari bitch was far more to Zara than her partner-in-crime or even her BFF. What I don't know is how much of her former… affection… for this duplicitous and deadly creature Zara might still be harboring.

"I could say the same to you." Zara hums in her special lightning voice and raises a deadly hand. Purple lightning spills from her fingers and crackles down her arm. "You said it yourself. The gloves are off… bella . "

Thunder mutters in the twilight sky. The tinny reek of ozone seeps through the air. A few random looky-loos edge away from my electrified darling, which is certainly wise .

They wouldn't like her when she's angry.

"Careful, my dear," Lucius slips up behind to murmur at Zara's ear. Of course, with my shifter senses, I too can hear him. "This is no random encounter. You're the future queen, and this vessel is awash in journalists. Don't give these two the reaction they're clearly seeking."

He's right, of course.

The words have barely left his lips before a chopper buzzes past, cameras protruding from the open door. The breeze from their passing swirls Zara's teal hair around her shoulders and plays with the spangly mirrored discs of the ice-blue gown around her sleek legs. In that moment, she's every inch a lightning witch.

Lucius looms over her, utterly alpha and deliciously lurky, while his wolfish mating scent perfumes the air. Zara leans into his touch by reflex.

But she gives no indication whatsoever that she's listening.

My, my.

Our wolf nuzzles her bare shoulder and smolders at her ex-lovers with his red-tinged eyes. To his beast, those two are sexual rivals for Zara's bed.

I'm not entirely certain he's wrong.

Lucius bristles at the pair, but he's far too mannerly to growl. Instead, he stalks to the rear of our cozy ensemble. He's searching the crowd, scanning the clump of dancers wiggling under the main deck stage where that perky diva's still belting out tunes despite the sudden threat of rain.

"Messalina Aquarius," Lucius snarls at me through his fangs as he prowls past. "Where is she?"

"No idea," I say briefly.

Wherever the Aquarius queen is lurking, it's more than obvious that wicked witch is responsible for this entire welcome party. Clearly she's invited these two troublemakers to spoil Zara's special night.

And whatever web his black widow protégée is spinning, Nikolai Romanov must somehow be involved.

I grit my teeth and fight viciously through the ugly emotional snarl of my daddy issues.

Meanwhile, Cleo Ferrari tilts her head and looks thoughtful. The rising wind flirts with her burgundy mane.

Ronin and Neo have closed ranks around Zara. No one's getting past Ronin, of course, but I'm not certain how Neo plans to defend her. Perhaps by hurling a textbook at someone's head? Or challenging our enemies to a spelling bee?

Instead, our bookworm quietly takes Zara's clutch.

In case she needs to fight.

For that small gesture alone, for the absolute belief in her it signifies… well, that's why we all adore him.

"Aw, bambina , don't be like that." Zara's ex-boy toy pipes up again, trying everyone's patience by speaking. "We weren't the only ones keeping secrets, were we. You didn't exactly sashay up to Cleo and me the night we met in Bangkok and say ‘Hey, before I fuck the two of you six ways to Sunday, just wanted to let you know I'm the Gemini queen.'"

"Because I wasn't ," Zara fires back. "Messalina's daughter—Cybelle—she was supposed to rule. She was supposed to be the Aquarius queen. I only got shackled with this whole queen gig after Cybelle got killed. That's what made Messalina the last Aquarius. And me the first Gemini."

For a heartbeat, Cleo's brow puckers. Her bony supermodel shoulders tighten with a subtle tension.

Hmmm.

That's the first flicker of genuine emotion I've seen from that walking mannequin all night.

Zara plants a hand on her hip. "Besides, hello? I thought you two were fucking mortal . Which I guess you're not. Since you're here."

"You thought what everyone thought. Ensuring the entire mortal world believes the same… well, this has been my role." The Ferrari girl sighs. " Bene. I never meant to find myself in this position. In this, you are not alone."

Lover Boy gives a cocky shrug that makes me want to slap him. "Well, we're here now. No reason the three of us can't pick up where we left off, right, bambina ?"

My breath hisses and my eyes narrow.

Never mind that the thought of another woman— any woman—joining Zara and the rest of us in our bed is revolting. For fuck's sake, I identified as gay until Zara came along.

But these two, in particular, are joining our polycule over my dead and decomposing body .

Fortunately, my girl shuts him right down. "Yeah, no, not happening. There's not, like, a vacancy in my bed. And even if there was? My guys and me, we vote on that shit. You two wouldn't even be on the ballot."

Neo hasn't said a word, because he knows this is Zara's show. But at this, he gives an earnest nod.

Of course, that sweet boy fondly imagined he was straight until Ronin deflowered him.

But it's clear the Ferrari bitch isn't getting his vote either.

"You sure we can't change your mind?" That pure idiot of a Xiao simply won't take no for an answer. In fact, he's fool enough to slink toward Zara.

Ronin's warning growl puts a stop to that. My boyfriend's taller and broader through the chest than Xiao, and Ronin's eyes burn gold when his power rises.

He's fucking deadly. And he's on a hairpin trigger.

Careful, darling, I purr at him through our bond. Bloodshed makes such a mess. And that Dolce & Gabbana tuxedo jacket you're wearing requires dry cleaning.

My boyfriend's the strongest telepath in our polycule. But our bond is weirdly silent. It's atypical, but I suppose he's distracted by this unexpected encounter.

Still, I don't like it.

The last thing I need to feel tonight is more alone.

Lover Boy shoots Ronin a cautious look, then retrains his broody gaze on Zara. "Guess not then, huh. You, me, her? Too bad."

"Not really," Zara shoots back.

"Too bloody right," Ronin mutters in disgust.

Now Lover Boy's eyes turn shifty. "You know this isn't personal, right? Like we were ever gonna say no when a sweet deal like this falls right in our lap?"

My skin prickles in a cold trickle of warning.

"What deal?" my girl snarls.

"It's not personal, bambina ." Xiao's handsome face hardens. "But it's not an offer we could refuse."

That's when that arrogant ass whips a fucking pistol from his tux.

And points it straight at Zara .

Somehow no one ever expects anyone to bring an old-fashioned handgun to a witching party.

He's fast. I'll give him that. He's trained and he's lethal and he's fast. Plus that slippery bastard chose his moment with exquisite care. The moment when he's too close to Zara to miss.

I hiss with alarm. My casting hand sweeps up.

The whiplash snap of my witchcraft coils and crackles through every synapse.

Ronin's already firing into motion with his own killer instincts, snarling and shoving Zara into Neo's startled arms, then diving in front of them. All too clearly, he intends to take the hit himself.

No.

Not Ronin.

That's simply not happening.

Lover Boy flips the safety off and gives my boyfriend a nasty grin. In a sort of hideous slow motion, his trigger finger tightens—

With a sweep of my ringed hand, I let my bad side out to play.

The telekinetic wallop of my witchcraft sends that bastard hurling backward through the air, gun flying from his hand, before he can tighten his grip. I launch Xiao airborne across the deck before he can lay a single fucking finger on Zara or Ronin, who are both fucking mine .

Lover Boy's flying form crashes into an unsuspecting waiter, toiling along under a tray of empty glasses, and knocks both of them sprawling into a bulkhead with a cry.

The pair crash to the deck in a tangle of startled limbs and a shower of broken glass.

Oh, dear. Collateral damage.

Despicable me.

A heartbeat later, the handgun hits the deck and goes off with a deafening bang that sets my ears ringing and leaves a bullet hole in Messalina's starboard bulkhead. Across the deck, scattered screams ring out. The nearby looky-loos scatter for cover.

Through a tide of fleeing bodies, I stalk from the shadows with a vicious grin. Apparently, when it comes to protecting my mates, I have a violent streak.

Who knew?

If Lover Boy had any sense, he'd stay down, right where I put him, and beg for mercy. Instead, he scrambles to his feet with an offensively catlike grace and shrugs out of his ruined tuxedo jacket.

Does he really imagine he's going to challenge… moi ?

"Well, well, Lover Boy," I purr like the villain I am. "Look who has a death wish. Bring it on, do ."

I'd love nothing better than a little homicide.

Looming between Zara and the threat, Ronin growls at him, "Haven't met Vasili yet, have you, mate? I'd bloody well stay down if I were you."

"Well, he isn't wrong," I murmur. "But don't let that discourage you."

Typically, I hide my horrible fangs. They're repulsive, and they don't retract like Lucius'. This once, I bare those horrid incisors I'm cursed with. I bare them in a bloodthirsty grin.

That's shifter instinct. An intimidation display.

Sadly, my victim doesn't appear intimidated. An ugly look lurks in Xiao's face. He rolls his shoulders with fluid grace and pads toward me with a panther's deadly intent.

With an idle flick of my casting hand, I send the fallen handgun flying over the rail to splash into the night-dark sea.

Truly, there's no point taking chances. Mere seconds ago, that thing was pointed at Ronin.

"Know all about you." Xiao's menacing glare flickers between Ronin and me—the primary threats he imagines he's facing. "I know about all of you. I know how you fight. I know how you fuck. I know who you bend for, Pendragon. I even know Romanov snores in his sleep."

As if!

"Well, I never." I expel a huff of outrage. "I've never snored in my life."

Lover Boy gives me a sly smirk.

Of course, everyone knows more about us than I'd like since The Inquisitor 's gotten so… inquisitive. But that scandal rag certainly doesn't come with a soundtrack. Obviously. What this one's just said proves it.

Still, there's something happening here that's very much amiss. Something off with this entire setup. The Ferrari girl and I rarely interacted growing up, and she doesn't betray the merest flicker of recognition now.

But my identity is no secret, so she's surely well aware .

With or without my father's lethal star pupil in his corner, Lover Boy can't imagine we're going to let him anywhere near Zara. He's deliberately provoking all of us, especially our little queen—and not in a good way.

He's not even a warlock, for fuck's sake. Trust me to know. So what's his game?

More to the point, what's hers?

Cleo Ferrari arrests her sidekick in his tracks with an impatient look and a fusillade of Italian I can't follow.

Xiao's fists clench and his jaw knots. But her curt command stops him.

For now.

I saunter over to lurk at Ronin's side. My boyfriend's teeth are bared in a savage scowl. Flames flicker and burn in his topaz eyes.

His own gift is rising.

A stern-faced Lucius pads into our path and inserts himself between the warring parties. "Ronin, Vasili, all of you—stand down. Kindly allow me to handle this situation."

"Oh, very well, pet. If you must." I pout.

Truly, he can be a terrible spoilsport.

Sparing me a narrow look of warning, Lucius frowns at our enemies. "I'm Lucius Aries, headmaster of Villa Augustus at the Icarus Academy. In the Dean's absence, I speak on her behalf. In the event you're unaware, I must advise you that violence within the island wards is strictly forbidden by the Academy Codex. Those wards were lowered to allow this vessel into the harbor. As guests, you're bound by those obligations."

For Lucius' sake, I manage not to roll my eyes. Of course he intends to de-escalate the crisis, like the responsible headmaster he is.

But this entire dynamic is far too volatile for even his cool head to manage.

Too bad, of course.

"Hey Teach, sorry to rain on your parade, but these two don't give a single shit about the Academy Codex." Zara slips out of Neo's protective arms, strides over to Cleo, and gets right in the Ferrari bitch's face.

"That stunt Xiao just pulled. Is that what you came here for?" she demands of this girl whose smoldering face I'll never see gracing the cover of my Cosmo in quite the same light again. "To finish the fucking Singapore job and kill me?"

Now that the handgun is out of play, this reunion is drawing an audience to rival the pop diva's synchronized gyrations on stage. In fact, we're attracting an actual crowd, and the cameras are definitely rolling. As for that witchy bitch Messalina Aquarius, our hostess is still nowhere to be found.

But Cleo Ferrari only has eyes for Zara.

"You never understood what the job even was," the supermodel says tightly. "For you, it was always a sort of game. To protect your precious freedom. To thumb your nose at your horrible father. Someone must take the broader view, bella . "

Zara clenches her fists and pushes in closer. I don't think the dear girl even realizes she's floating. Levitation is one of the newer manifestations of her ever-expanding repertoire of witchy powers.

"Is that what this is, Cleo?" she grits, low and ugly. "You taking the broader view? Or is my asshole dad still bankrolling your fashion fix?"

Cleo Ferrari's runway pout curls in a scowl of contempt. "Mick Gemini was never the one calling the shots. Cavolo . Why won't you listen? I tell you, I didn't come here to kill you."

"Oh? Your sidekick certainly could have fooled us," I murmur.

Ronin snarls in agreement. He's still tracking Xiao and shifting to keep his own beefcake build between Lover Boy and Zara.

As for Zara and Cleo, their gazes are locked together. Neither one spares anyone else on the scene a particle of attention.

"Well, that's a relief," Zara drawls. "That you're not actually trying to kill me. You know, what with the cameras rolling and all the little kiddies watching at home."

I hum with admiration for my girl's general badassery. She's fearless. She's a goddess. Only we—her warlocks—sense that she's hurting.

She doesn't trust easily, she's tender-hearted, and her former ménage knifed her in the back.

Normally I'd be sensing all this firsthand through our mating bond. But the psychic bond that connects me with all the mates I've bitten—plus Ronin, spared my horrible bite but bonded to me all the same—those psychic bonds are silent .

Which can only mean someone in this crowd is carrying a nullifying object.

Something else about this entire setup that sets my nerves on edge.

Cleo is saying, oh, something or other to Zara about her tedious wish to talk. She even lapses into earnest Italian (which Zara speaks) in an apparent attempt to demonstrate her sincerity. But that Ferrari bitch has lost her audience.

At least, she's lost me .

I, Vasili Romanov, am no longer entertained.

That little fuck toy Xiao is eyeing Ronin, trying to sidle closer to Zara, and generally looking shifty. His hand hovers near his trouser pocket in a way that makes me suspect he's carrying another lethal weapon.

He can't imagine he'll succeed in getting anywhere near her. Still, all too clearly, he's up to no good.

I summon my power with a slash of my casting hand that shoves that wretch backward, snarling, through a sea of broken glass until his back hits the bulkhead. There I pin him to the surface like a bug.

I'm seriously tempted to crush him.

While the cameras roll, Lover Boy bears his teeth and hisses at me like a rabid cat.

"By all means, do keep struggling." I fish out my compact to check my lip gloss. "I can easily keep this going all night."

"Vasili, my dear," Lucius murmurs. "I beg that we not make this unfortunate encounter any more of a public scene. Especially since we're being televised."

"Oh, so we're being discreet, are we." I snap my compact closed and give the entire mess a vicious look.

Cleo sighs something in Italian that sounds exasperated, the poor dear. Then she snaps, "Xiao." Without even looking at her poor minion.

Abruptly, Lover Boy stills in my telekinetic grip and gives her a narrow look.

"Mr. Romanov," my headmaster says quietly, which is oh so civil of him. But I know a command from Lucius Aries when I hear one. "I won't ask again."

When all's said and done, he's still my headmaster. (Except when he bends for me.)

"Oh, very well. Fine. " Pouting, I splay my manicured fingers to release my hostage .

Sneering, Xiao scrambles free of the bulkhead, tugs his clothing into order, and touches the gold chain at his throat.

"Zara. Per favore ." That's the Ferrari bitch again, never looking away from my girl (who used to be her girl), and quite possibly wanting her back. Cleo's picture-perfect supermodel face goes soft. "Xiao plays his own game, as always. A game I've told him he will not win. Me, I only wish to talk."

Slowly my girl stops levitating and lets her stilettos graze the floor. But her hair keeps swirling around her shoulders in the psychic wind.

Another chopper roars past. Ronin glares at the thing like he's seriously tempted to set it on fire. But Lucius' demand for restraint holds him too in check.

"Then talk," Zara clips out, glaring at Cleo. "Make it snappy."

Cleo tries to touch her arm, but Zara knocks her hand roughly aside.

The other girl covers the awkward moment with a smooth shrug. "It is true, yes? I'm not what I claim to be. But I was given no choice."

Zara shifts her weight impatiently. "What, did my dad hold a gun to your head and order you to take his money? Besides, Lucius told me how the Academy got you on board when he nabbed me in Singapore. Didn't sound to me like you needed much convincing."

"You do not wish to be queen, no?" Cleo's perfect teeth sink into the violet matte of her lower lip. "And I—don't you see—I have no choice to be anything else."

I'm really not following all the swirly undercurrents of this overdue tête-à-tête , certainly not with our mating bond all muddy. But Lucius sucks in a sharp breath.

He's putting all the jagged little pieces of this puzzle together in a way I'm suddenly quite keen to follow.

Zara folds her arms across her chest and scowls at her ex-BFF. "Yeah, sure, I'm not all yippy-skippy about the whole queen gig. But I'm dealing with it. What are you trying to say?"

The Ferrari girl's mile-long lashes sweep down.

Perhaps she's genuinely pensive about whatever scandalous secret she's about to impart. But, more likely, the bitch is deploying the finely honed weapons of deception and misdirection she learned from my fucking father.

Because why waste all that drama ?

"For me, this was never about the money. Or the title. None of it." Cleo shakes back her merlot hair. " Merda! I have a… responsibility… I was never allowed to ignore—"

"What the fuck, Z? We going or staying?" That's our Racetrack, appearing abruptly at the head of the stairs to the afterdeck where our getaway vehicle awaits.

She and Dez, lucky girls, made it down before the shitshow started. Clearly, they've both been biding their time.

RT's sudden appearance interrupts Cleo's confession and seems to shatter some sort of spell for Zara too. I know the Ferrari girl meant more to her than a partner in crime, more even than a trusted ally. What I don't know is how Zara still feels, in her heart of hearts, about the backstabbing bitch.

Or what that backstabbing bitch has planned for Zara.

My little queen glances around at all of us. The pop diva's fallen silent and is being hurriedly ushered offstage. The choppers circle at a watchful distance.

Now the entire ship's watching us. Watching in an eerie silence that confirms every one of my horrid suspicions.

Something about this entire scenario is about to explode in our faces.

The pregnant silence is broken by the low growl of the dive boat motor.

Clearly, that's Dez at the throttle.

"Whatever this is, I don't want any part of it," Zara says curtly. Her turquoise gaze veers to find me. "We're going."

"An excellent notion." Lucius dips his chin in a nod of relief. "I'll just remain behind to make our excuses to the queen—"

"Actually," Lover Boy says from his safe spot at Cleo's side, "you're staying. You all are. For the ceremony."

Zara barks out a laugh and gives her vivid head a violent shake. "Yeah, no, I don't think so. For some reason, you know, I'm just not feeling it?" She shifts into motion and strides toward Racetrack, with Ronin and Neo falling right in behind her. "Not gonna be any effing coronation tonight—"

"There will be a coronation tonight, Zara Gemini, I assure you." A familiar female voice, ringing with authority and projected to carry, jerks my startled gaze toward a sudden blaze of electric light from the stage that nearly blinds me. "A coronation to crown the next queen. The queen with whom I willingly share my throne and my power. But that queen won't be some trashy casino slut of a Gemini who gets photographed carousing in a naked orgy."

Scattered murmurs sweep the ship. The assembled crowd of looky-loos is nodding like bobble heads.

Morons.

Messalina lowers her voice for effect. "Or a reckless, willful, wicked girl who kills her own mother and wipes out half of downtown Vegas in a temper tantrum. That wicked girl is unworthy to be anyone's queen."

Zara stumbles in her stilettos and sucks in a ragged gasp.

In the twisty maze of my brain, a fiendish recognition of this entire diabolical setup finally snaps into place. I tingle with an electric flood of rage.

"That manipulative Aquarius cunt ," I hiss.

"What the fuck?" Ronin spins around looking murderous, black hair flying around his powerful frame, psi fire burning in his eyes.

My stare sweeps over Zara's whitening face—it's truly a low blow, attacking my girl over that ancient history, due to her mother's piss-poor judgment, when Zara was just a child—then swerves back to Messalina.

Our hostess with the mostest is standing at center stage, looking regal and unstoppable in her glittering purple gown, and using the diva's own mic to make her public service announcement.

"I'm crowning the next Aquarius queen," Messalina announces to the world at large. A murmur of interest ripples through the idiotic crowd. "I'm crowning my daughter with my late husband Oberon, the last Dark Fae King."

"Oh, crap," Neo breathes beside me.

Still patiently holding Zara's clutch, he's pale under his magenta curls. His free hand shoots out to grip Zara's, anchoring her against what he clearly sees coming.

Zara stands perfectly still, eyes wide with shock. Against her bubblegum lipstick and cobalt eyeliner, her gorgeous Hollywood face is etched with an emotion that, on her, is unfamiliar.

A soul-wrenching emotion that looks hideously like… shame.

Then that Grade A Ferrari bitch glides forward, cool and composed like she's walking a Paris runway, and poses for the crowd .

Messalina sweeps a royal arm in the bitch's direction and announces, in a ringing voice that resonates with pride and triumph, "All hail! Tonight I crown her . My long-lost, half-Fae, twice-royal daughter. Cleopatra Regina Aquarius."

Now Messalina swings to pinpoint Zara with a commanding finger. "I call upon you , Zarina Selene Gemini, to be the first of my subjects to bow down to her in homage. To renounce your claim and worship this worthy Aquarius scion, who was always destined to be the witching world's next queen."