Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

I stayed away from the dragon after that, and the queen stayed away from me. For a few months I lived in a constant state of paranoia, convinced the Fireguards would try to drag me away again and finish the job the queen had started.

But it didn't happen.

I didn't see L again.

Eventually I relaxed, and the months chugged on. I graduated from being a scribe apprentice to a full researcher. They left me alone to pursue my own studies with blood magick as long as I presented frequently on the topics of research they also wanted.

Easy.

"Z-Zephyr! I didn't see you there!"

Clover dropped the basket of bread she was holding, sending the baguettes tumbling to the dirty floor. The last ritual I'd done for stealth must be working.

Or she was terrible at being self-aware. Or both?

"Come here. I want you," I demanded, ripping the basket out of her hands and wrapping my hands around her waist and neck.

She giggled against me, her bread and basket forgotten as her skirts hiked up her waist.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to use an actual bed one day," she teased. "Everyone is working. No one is there."

I tightened my grip on her. The servant's beds were worse than the boys' dormitory but dirtier. My hair would stay louse-free, thank you very much.

"Here is fine. Wouldn't want people to get ideas," I soothed back, dropping her a moment to flip up my own robe.

Ideas like I loved her. Because I didn't. Love only led to upset when people went away.

She grabbed the scruff of my robe and pulled, oddly insistent. Usually she was meek and obedient. Though the change was unexpected (and therefore irritating), I was also intrigued. What was bringing out this new side? Aside from the queen, women were mostly small and shy, were they not?

"The other girls ask about you," Clover breathed into my ear, causing the hairs on my arms to stand up straight. "I think they're jealous of me." Her voice was a soft pant, hardening me further.

"And?" I purred, when it became apparent she was waiting for some type of response.

"The other girls want me to share you." Her eyes flicked up at me, swimming with lust and need. "I don't want to share you."

A dark, delicious thought sparked.

"What if I want to be shared?" I nuzzled into her neck, hopefully letting the idea sink in for her.

She hesitated and I skimmed my teeth along the hollow of her neck. When her breathing hitched, I went in for the kill.

"You are astounding, my little Clover. Wouldn't you want to prove to all these homely wenches just how desirable you are?"

Her hands tightened around my shoulders as she threw her head back, moaning.

"Yes," she panted. "Yes!"

Her chest muffled my laugh, her breasts a soft pillow for my face. But what was one pair of breasts when I could get two? Or five?

"Go into the kitchen. Grab who you can, and meet me on the third floor under the painting of the half-burned knight."

Her muscles stiffened. "What? We can't just abandon the kitchen. The cook will–"

I let her go and moved quickly into the corridor, not giving her a chance to respond. She would either deliver . . . or not.

A thrill ran through my veins as I took the spiral steps two at a time, racing up and up and ignoring the burn in my legs. At the top of the opening to the third floor, I paused to catch my breath.

This floor housed Nobles from time to time, but specifically visiting Nobles. That meant all chambers were temporary, and they constantly had staff moving in and out, and that there were rooms that were ready to inhabit.

I'd steal one of those rooms for my afternoon of debauchery.

The first door I tried was locked.

The second door revealed a room that was stripped bare, no furnishing or covers on the bed.

The third one swung open. I wasn't expecting it, and I practically fell in. The room was warm and inviting, covered in furs. A fire roared in the hearth. Fruits and roast chicken were set out on the table, along with a selection of dark wines.

Too bad the room wasn't empty.

"Careful. You'll get mud on my carpet." Her hair was loose and flowing over her shoulders and down her back, for once not in its severe braids or woven around her crown. It was so long that it covered her bare breasts.

Look away. You need to look away.

The queen lounged in front of me on a velvet chaise, completely nude. Her skin was so smooth and white. Was it supposed to look like that? Clover was much younger than the queen, but she wasn't free of blemishes or marks. Clover had stretch marks across her belly and thighs, scars on her arms and back, and bumps in her rounded backside.

The queen had … none of those things. Her breasts were shapely underneath her hair. Nothing was scarred or bumped or blemished. Her waist nipped in at her flat stomach, only for her hips to flare out to full thighs. She was unreal. She was perfect. Was it magick?

Stop staring .

"Are you going to do anything? Or just sit there and soil my rug?"

Her voice was the only thing not perfect about her: spoiled and smug, mighty and slightly nasal. The cruelty in it jolted me back to my senses, but she had me off balance while inflaming my desires.

It enraged me how much I hated her and how much I wanted her.

"Why? Do you want me to … what did you say? Do something?" I didn't realize I'd spoken until she arched one silver eyebrow at me, those cupid lips parting slightly at me with surprise.

"And have you leave stains everywhere?" She sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning forward.

She knew it pushed her breasts forward, the hair falling just so and parting so I could glimpse one rosy nipple.…

I moved on my own volition until there was only a short distance between us. This close I could smell her: pergainsa berries and fire, ash and incense and death and–

Sharply, I inhaled, taking half a step back.

Magick.

It was thick and cloying like smoke, but sickly sweet like decay and death. I wanted more of it even though I knew it was dangerous.

"Mud Stain, I am waiting for someone who is most certainly not you . Leave, and I will forget this intrusion."

She wanted me to leave. That meant I wasn't going anywhere. My decision must have shown in the tilt of my chin or the set of my shoulders, because the queen's eyes narrowed.

A knock sounded on the door.

The queen smirked. "And now someone I actually wish to see is—"

"Z? Are you here? I–"

I bit back a curse as Clover poked her little blonde head through the door, going white as a sheet when she saw the queen's naked form. She tried to back out in panic, but five other girls pressed in from behind her, eager to look.

The queen tilted her head to the side and smiled, stretching and arranging herself even more proactively over the sofa.

"Girls, come in," she cooed at them, fingers outstretched and curling inwards.

A redhead pushed forward past the weak, elbows flying and eyes wide.

"The queen! What–"

Clover screeched as the others rushed forward at the red head's proclamation. Clover fell to the ground and the other girls trampled her. Something cracked and Clover screamed.

The queen laughed. "Yes, girls. Come. First one here gets a fortune worthy of a princess."

Six girls ignored their fallen friend, the same one who had led them here. They clawed at each other, pulled hair, tripped, and eventually fell into a pile of fists and screams.

The queen laughed uproariously as they bloodied and bruised each other.

It was disgusting and chaotic; it was everything the queen represented.

"Z, I–"

I put an arm under Clover's legs and wrapped the other around her shoulder. With a grunt and cry of pain from her, I carried her out of the room and into the corridor.

The door to the room slammed behind us. Horrific screams erupted from the room.

Clover whimpered, and I clutched her tightly to me. Not to comfort her, but to try and quell the rage inside of me, because once again, the queen had won.

That frigid, cold bitch had won.

And I still wanted her.

I hated myself. No, I hated her.

"Z, I—"

"Hush. Let's get you to the primas."

She didn't protest, and was more than happy to leave me for the primas and their numbing tonics. I thanked them and made my way back to the corridor. I had to know what happened to those girls. I had to know who the queen was meeting.

The door was open, but it was dark inside. Smoke wafted into the corridor, the scent of charred meat thick in the air.

Poking my head in, I recoiled at the scorched bones and piles of ashes. Surely that wasn't … How was that even possible?

"You're going to get yourself killed."

I jumped so bad I nearly bashed my head into the door frame, whipping around so fast my robe tangled in my legs. My hands raised in front of me reflexively, but I lowered them immediately.

You didn't throw punches with the king, after all.

My father.

Say something.

I couldn't. I could count the number of times I'd even seen the king on one hand, including this one. He looked so much like me that it physically hurt. We stared at each other. Then I remembered he'd spoken first.

"I'm working on it. The not getting killed part," I said, clearing my throat awkwardly.

He kept looking at me. And looking.

"I … are you here to meet the queen?" I asked.

He blinked at that, the ghost of a sad smile twisting the left corner of his lip.

"No," he said softly, shaking his head. "No. I simply … I don't know what I'm doing. I tell myself I'm keeping an eye on things, but that doesn't matter much when the result is the same and you have no control."

Wise words. I tilted my head to the side, studying him.

"The queen–" I was not sure if what I had to say would be considered offensive or treasonous.

"Is a cunt," the king finished succinctly, mirth sparking in his eyes for a moment before extinguishing.

A rough guffaw left my throat before I could help it.

He raised a hand towards me and I flinched, but he only rested it gently on my cheek, before pulling away.

"I am sorry about your mother. If I'd have known …" His gaze turned toward the floor.

"You'd have done what, exactly? The same as you always do?" I said bitterly, past the point of caring. This man was the king . If he didn't have any power, who did?

The queen, obviously.

What was it about her that commanded such power?

The magick.

That had to be it, wasn't it? Otherwise there was no reason for the king to kowtow to her like that, even if he was a mud boy like me.

The question begged itself though; why had the queen chosen a mud boy to be her consort? It had to do with whatever was going on with this ‘experiment' of forcing the king and my mother together. It had to do with these demon creatures.

"There's a curse, isn't there?" I asked the king numbly. It was always a curse in my mother's story books, after all.

The king gave me another one of his sad smiles. "Too smart. Try to stick around. I'd love to see what you become."

His smile was genuine then, reaching up to crinkle the corners of his eyes. He turned and left without another word, leaving me standing in the corridor.

Alone. Again.

I saw Clover once a week. I wouldn't say she was an addiction, but she was a very nice distraction, and none of the other servants had the courage to speak against me or tattle on how much time I spent in the herb closet with her. I was technically a Noble after all, even if they did eye my hair with suspicion.

I tried to forget about the prince and his dragon half, until he found me one night in the archives.

"There you are. They said you would be here."

I jerked at his voice and stood automatically, my chair scraping harshly against the stone floor and nearly tipping over in my hurry. My head bowed, and I put a hand to my chest in the customary show of respect.

"Prince—er, my prince," I ended weakly, not confident in what name to be using.

"It is Zariah," the boy said calmly.

Though he wasn't exactly a boy anymore, was he?

I lifted my head to study him. It had only been a year, but he'd grown quite taller. He looked more like his father (and me) now that he'd lost the roundness of childhood around his face.

Zariah frowned. "You haven't been to visit me like you promised."

Warily, I met his gaze. Silver eyes tinged with green stared back at me, hurt. It reminded me of M. I shook away such unhelpful thoughts. M had been a traitor. He hung around with one-eyed B and his crew now.

A vicious smirk tilted the corner of my lips. B wore an eyepatch and avoided me like the plague.

"I tried to visit you a long time ago," I protested, but keeping my voice steady. "You tried to eat me."

The young prince blinked at me, alarmed.

"That must have been Zion, then. Mother says we have to let him out sometimes . I used to hate being the dragon all the time, but it's nice to live here sometimes. The food is better."

A snort left me before I could help it.

Zariah's lips curled in a mischievous grin and a dark chuckle burst from my lips. In short order, both of us were laughing. How ridiculous and uplifting. Eventually, we quieted, and I even wiped a stray tear from my eye. I'd never laughed hard enough to cause tears!

"How old are you now?" I asked, curious and believing the question not to be impertinent.

"Does it matter?" He shot back, one eyebrow arched.

His ‘Zariah' personality was definitely more confident than ‘Zion.'

"Just on the cusp of manhood, regardless," I observed.

He stood straighter at that.

"Thank you for … setting the record straight," I started again carefully. "Er … in the future, is there a way to know I am approaching you or Zion? I would hate to get eaten because of a simple misunderstanding."

That was a mild way of putting it, but being able to distinguish between his personalities would be beneficial.

Zariah shrugged. "I'm almost always the dragon. Only once in a while is Zion out. How about you do a whistle? If it is me, I will know that is the signal and will come. If it is Zion, he will dismiss the noise." Zariah's nose wrinkled. "He doesn't notice anything."

Right. The only thing standing between me becoming a roasted dinner was a whistle?

"I appreciate you coming to find me. But get along though. Your mother isn't my biggest fan."

Zariah's face darkened, but his mouth stayed shut, pinched in a sharp line.

The queen was a sore subject for more than me, it seemed.

"Visit me more often, please." Zariah turned on his heel and marched away.

* * *

I didn't want to attend yet another ball, but my awkward status as a Noble (just barely) made it a requirement. If I wanted to enjoy the benefits of continuing my studies and living in the upper class, then this was something I had to bear and get through.

Though perhaps I was looking at the entire event with the wrong perspective.

The candles flickered here and there, casting deep shadows over the tinkle of glassware and the clink of goblets. Incense mingled with women's perfume, burning unobtrusively from the corners of the room.

The amount of women dressed up and floating around the room seemed higher than normal.

"What is that scowl for? You will scare them all away. I hear they finally let the new girls attend from the last reaping."

I frowned as Vession loomed behind me, nearly blending into the shadows with his dark hair and ever-present black cloak.

"That would have been my reaping, yes?" I asked.

Vession nodded. "It is time to pair them up with Noble husbands for your age group. You are charming and intelligent. I am surprised you are not in the thick of things."

A snort left my nose.

"Vession, when have I ever been in the thick of things?"

He lifted one dark eyebrow at me. "In things of great consequence, you can't help but stick your nose in."

I flushed, knowing he referred to the queen. Did he know about Zariah?

"It wouldn't hurt to stick your nose into a few things that are of lesser consequence," he continued, chin jutting out to indicate the girls.

Clover's mouth sucking on my cock filled my mind. If only he knew.

Sighing, I followed his gaze. They were pretty enough, I supposed. Most of the girls looked uncomfortable and nervous, dressed in fine clothing they weren't sure how to move in. It was a sea of blondes, dirty blondes, and a few light-brown heads. One lone dark head stuck out to me. She wore an ivory dress that made her black hair and eyes shine like she was a statue wrought from black-and-white marble as the silk wrapped around her slim body.

Vession snorted as I unconsciously took a few steps forward. "I knew you'd go after her; the only mud girl to survive her reaping. Good luck with that one. Just as headstrong as you."

He disappeared into the shadows, and I rolled my eyes. He could be so dramatic.

I was at her side suddenly, with no memory of how I got there.

Alarmed, she turned to me, lips parting in surprise.

"Zephyr," I said, bowing my head and leaving my hand open towards her, in a polite greeting meant for people who weren't the queen.

She eyed my hand in confusion, taking a half step back like a frightened cow.

Wonderful. Another broken, frail thing. No matter. I'd woo her and charm her, just as I'd done Clover and all the other kitchen girls. This girl with her dark hair and eyes would hardly be a challenge.

Then her eyes sparked with an inner fire as she straightened her spine and met my eyes, still refusing to offer her hand.

"Shava," she said.

I assumed that could only be her name.

"Shava?" I asked, testing it out in my mouth. "An old word with several meanings, ranging from a cry for help to simply an expression of joy. Regardless, it is not a flower name. How did you manage that?"

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then flattened into a bored expression.

Inwardly, I grinned. She would feign disinterest, but she was intrigued by my intelligence and inquiries, instead of confused. A worthy challenge, indeed.

"You are very … learned," she drawled, eyes lingering too long on my dark hair to be anything other than intentional.

Rather than take offense, it only sharpened my interest and burgeoning desire. This was not a meek, helpless female. This was the first woman I'd met from the mud quarter, and the first one other than the queen who had sparked an intense emotion inside of me—and so far, I liked it. And her.

"I am a scribe in the archives. I know many things," I purred at her, eyes roving up and down her body suggestively.

Clover was fun, but this woman … She was a challenge. She was not automatically impressed by me, nor cowed by my intelligence. I would have to work to earn her. And I loved nothing more than a challenge.

She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder dismissively.

"You would find a nickname as well if you had my birth name," she fired back, not meeting my gaze.

I raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently. "What, did Rose or Sunflower not suit you? Have you had enough petals to last you a lifetime?" I goaded.

"Yucca," she spat out, flushing red. "My name was Yucca."

I took that in for a moment, running it through my brain. My lips pursed.

"Yucca … the succulent that grows outside the dome in the desert?"

A dark chuckle burst from me. "Your parents named you after a cactus. "

"My mother, " she savagely corrected me, "wanted to call out a name in our quarter and have one girl come running, not a dozen. No one else was named … that. "

Hmm. Were there truly that many girls in the mud quarter? I couldn't imagine. Belatedly, I was reminded how little knowledge I had about the other quarters that made up this kingdom. Safely sequestered in my archives, there were areas of my knowledge that were sorely lacking.

Perhaps my dear Yucca— Shava—could help.

"Who is that?" she asked.

I followed Shava's gaze over my shoulder as it settled on Vession with a look of absolute hatred.

"Has he offended you in some way?" I asked, puzzled.

Her hands clenched into fists at her side.

"He violated not only me, but every girl reaped in my year. I will never forget the feel of his cold hands on my … on …" she trailed off angrily, blinking back tears.

Vession? Was she sure?

"It is not in Vession's character to … assault girls," I protested, not wanting to antagonize her by calling her a liar, but still wanting more information.

Her face twisted, lips curling into a sneer as her shoulders tightened. Her hands clenched the shiny fabric of her dress, uncaring how it creased.

"He forced us to lie down on a stone table in a dungeon, spread our legs, then touched us there. If we didn't, we were dragged away by Fireguards. If he found something he didn't like, we were dragged away by Fireguards. What the fuck would you call that, if not assault?"

Shava was angry enough to attack Vession. The idea itself was … titillating. I wanted to see Shava fight. I wanted to see her angry.

"But he didn't hurt you?" I questioned, wanting deeply to understand.

"How about I tie you down, rip off your pants, and slap your cock around? And if I don't like it, have Fireguards take you away and kill you?" she fired back, eyes blazing.

It wasn't an appropriate reaction, but I couldn't help the grin that split my face.

"Feel free—"

"You're fucking rude."

I snapped back to reality, frowning. "Pardon. How am I rude?"

Shava's eyes narrowed. "Your name . Even in the mud quarter people who are meeting for the first time exchange names."

Had I not introduced myself? I was sure I had.

"Zephyr," I intoned.

Those lips thinned into an angry line, then opened into a pout.

"Oh, that is your name," she said softly, more to herself than me.

An important detail about the other mud boys came to the forefront of my mind.

"Mud boys have letter names, is that right? Did you think I was a mud boy?" I asked, genuinely curious.

She bristled at this, as though gearing up for a fight.

"You look like a mud boy, just with nicer clothes," she fired back.

I refused to rise to her fervor. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and stood there, smiling at her.

"Getting along well?"

My irritation rose as Vession inserted himself between us. Yet if my mood soured, it was nothing to the storm gathering in Shava's eyes. She went red as Vession stood next to her, equal parts rage and fear breaking over her face.

Before anyone could react she launched herself at him.

For a moment, I didn't help; I'll admit it. Watching Shava throw herself at Vession and take him to the ground was alluring and thrilling in a way I'd never felt before, not even with Clover. I wanted to watch and revel in the chaos and … bad manners of it all. She straddled him with her own dress hiked around her waist, uncaring of etiquette or propriety as she methodically reduced his face to the consistency of beaten meat, one strong punch at a time.

"Shava! Stop!" I grabbed her around the waist and yanked her back. Or I tried to.

The woman was solid despite her slimness, all lithe muscles belying the hidden strength in her figure.

"Hey! You there!"

I blinked, jolted back to myself as the Fireguards came running. While entertaining, the consequences of her actions were quickly approaching. I bent down and grabbed her shoulder, trying to get her to stop.

"Stop! Shava! The Fireguards—"

She either didn't hear me through her frenzy, or didn't care. It was like talking to a wall. I needed to figure this out, or she'd be executed before I barely knew her!

I couldn't have that.

"There!"

Two Fireguards finally fought their way through the thickening crowd, excited to see some free entertainment. Neither were L. Where had he been lately?

"Let me help you," I muttered to the one Fireguard, one I didn't know well, but at least I knew him. He didn't protest as I helped him pry Shava off of Vession, and drag her out of the room while waving the other Fireguards away.

"Stay and help Lord Vession. Get him to the healers," the Fireguard ordered them. I spared a guilty glance to Vession, who lay bleeding on that floor. I had been so concerned about keeping Shava from execution I'd forgotten it was his ass being beaten.

"Come on. Side room," I suggested to the Fireguard. Vession would be fine—there were already three Fireguards half carrying him out of the ballroom and down towards the infirmary.

The Fireguard shook his head, tightening his grip on Shava, who tried to spit in his face as she continued to thrash.

"I can't help you here, Z," he cautioned. "It was too public. She's gotta go straight to the queen."

I pulled on Shava, unconsciously trying to yank her the other way— away from the queen. L would have helped me. He would have understood.

"Z, don't do this. I know you've been trying to lie low. Fighting this is the opposite of that," the Fireguard warned me. "Do you want to be like L, exiled to work in the mud quarter for helping you?"

Is that what happened to him?

Shava's foot lashed out and kicked me in my shin. I let go of her in surprise, standing in the corridor like a simpleton while the Fireguard pinned both of her hands behind her back and hustled her away.

I stared at nothing, my hands held out in front of me.

What was I doing?

For months I'd planned and plotted my strategies, and today I'd nearly thrown it all away, and for what? Some slip of a mud girl who didn't even want to breathe the same air as me?

You're well on your way to start writing your own poetry and joining the ranks of the besotted, dusty fools whose pathetic scribbles line the archives.

No. I wouldn't be writing poetry to Yucca anytime soon. Time to stop thinking with my—Well, anyway.

A crowd was growing, filtering from the ballroom out into the corridor and down towards the throne room. They knew what was coming.

An uncomfortable lump swelled in my throat. I didn't like feeling like this. I didn't enjoy caring. Caring only led to loss and heartache. I needed neither.

I slipped into the seething masses and let them sweep me away down into the throne room, which was quickly growing crowded. I elbowed my way towards the front, to see Shava on her knees in front of the queen, hands pinned behind her back by the Fireguard, and another sat on the back of her legs. Blood dripped down her chin from a split lip, and fire burned in her eyes.

Need and fire bloomed in veins, my bloodmagick sparking gold along my skin.

Hold it down. Not here. Don't play your hand so early.

"What do we have here?" The queen descended the dais from her throne, in a dress of midnight today, setting off her silver hair like a beacon of moonlight. Her preferred white diamonds glittered at her throat and wrists, emphasizing the silver of her eyes.

Her smile, as always, was pure poison.

"Ah yes, you . I'm surprised you're still alive. All your little friends are dead, aren't they?"

Shava writhed and twisted like a feral thing, but the Fireguard was much bigger and had her pinned solidly.

The queen stopped a few paces in front of Shava with that awful shit-eating grin. I'd like to think the queen had learned her lesson from me about getting too close to those you were insulting. How confident would the queen act without her Fireguards around her? Shava would eat her up and spit her out.

I grinned at the thought of both of them going at it, and certain parts of my anatomy twitched.

Dear gods.

"I knew your true nature would show itself, eventually. You must be thrilled," the queen trilled, baring her teeth as she smiled.

"Anything that takes me away from you is welcome, even death," Shava sneered back, spitting at the queen's feet.

Did she mean that or was it simply bravado? I was impressed, either way.

The queen crossed her arms over her chest, sharp black fingernails digging into the skin of her own upper arms.

"What a joyous day for you to finally be reunited with your little mud friends," she drawled. "Send her to the dragon!"

The crowd roared its approval as two Fireguards yanked Shava up and began dragging her away.

"All of you are invited to watch from the east balcony, which should give you a clear view of what happens to those who are unworthy of my court!"

Fuck, shit on a stick.

I went the same way as the crowd to avoid sticking out, but at the first opportunity I ducked out and ran through the castle as fast as I could, knowing I had to get up on the dome before the Fireguards and the queen reached the latch.

The south parapet was the most direct path.

Left turn, right turn, up the spiral staircases. Gods, when I ruled the world I'd build a castle without a single damned spiral staircase! Ramps were better!

Up and up …

Down the corridor. Keep breathing!

I burst out through the archway, the gap between the dome and the open air my only focus. There were enough notches and breaks in the crumbling stonework, allowing for hand and footholds. Adrenaline fueled me as I quickly scaled the parapet, ending only a few feet from the lip of the dome.

I eyed the distance warily. It was maybe four to five feet of open space. If I missed or could not hang onto the lip, the fall would definitely kill me. I was resistant to heat thanks to my rituals. I was not resistant to every bone in my body shattering.

My eyes closed as I breathed deeply, weighing the risks and rewards.

Cold realization froze the blood in my veins.

What was I doing? I was a few feet away from killing myself, and for what? For this slip of a girl who filled me with lust? If I needed to dip my wick, there was an entire kitchen full of simpering girls who would see to my needs.

You don't want them. Not like you want her. It's too easy with the others.

Fuck.

Walk away. She chose her fate.

I tried to rationalize the myriad of emotions rattling through me. This just wasn't some lovesick attempt to save Shava—it was an opportunity to piss off the queen and hurt her credibility with her people, while letting her know I was a major player who wouldn't go away so easily. How frightening would it be to see someone you thought you'd killed not only alive but also influencing your biggest weapon on the same day?

Yes, that was it. I was doing this as part of my plan for revenge against the queen. That was always worth the risk. I certainly didn't care for a stupid girl right after meeting her. That was madness.

Are you sure?

I weighed my options. I could drop back to the parapet and go back to my room, and keep working on my next ritual. I'd ignore the thrill that'd gone through me at finding a strong, fierce woman who wasn't the queen. I'd give up my opportunity to take and make my own decisions for once; to strike out on offense instead of constantly playing defense.

Stop waffling. Pick a direction and go.

I leaped.