AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He yanked the hateful cloth up over his shoulder, wondering firstly how anyone could routinely wear this damn garment, and secondly how much the old hag knew of his mission.
Teigra had seemingly been avoiding him these last few days, but in the brief moments he had grabbed with her this morning, she’d promised that she’d kept his secrets.
From the high envoy’s demeanor, that appeared true. It seemed that as far as Securia was concerned, this would be the first time he had met the prince, and the archon had merely sent him down to improve relations with the noble classes. Nothing more.
That she didn’t seem to know about the mission, or the coming invasion, was comforting. Things were complicated enough without her getting in the damn way.
The guards stopped at a pair of intricately carved doors. “She will see you now.”
Aurelius and Ms. Securia turned to each other.
“She?” said Aurelius, glaring at the guards. “Where is the prince?”
A little pulse ran through him. It wasn’t just the awful thought that he’d been a good boy for no damn reason. It was also that, after what had happened in the bathhouse, he had focused entirely on his own reactions, and hadn’t given much thought to how it might have impacted Calix.
But the man had been in a frenzy, hadn’t he? Fighting his obvious desire to bed Aurelius. What if, rather than a few days of confusion, the prince was now avoiding him too?
Or was it perhaps nothing? After all, Securia had only suggested he would be met by Calix—it was never a certainty. Perhaps with the death of Urosina, the royals were throwing him a social nicety and giving them a more senior audience with the queen?
Ms. Securia spoke under her breath. “The Brotherhoods and Sisterhoods of Ardora place a higher value on loyalty and passion than anything else, Your Excellency. They certainly won’t be giving you information about the whereabouts of their masters.”
The guards’ faces betrayed a hint of pride.
“Fine then, you answer. You said we wouldn’t be meeting with the actual rulers!”
“We will persevere,” she said, through a false smile.
Aurelius grunted, dragging the heavy toga back into position. “Well, maybe this is a positive sign for you at least.”
“Oh, I sincerely doubt that,” she replied under her breath.
Her voice held a level of hostility he hadn’t heard previously, and Aurelius got the distinct impression that she had much more to say about the queen.
But she didn’t share it. Instead, she nodded her gratitude to the guards who opened the doors.
The throne room was opulent, in an Ardoran sort of way—cavernous and filled with extravagant wooden furniture. A red-woolen rug, so deep his sandal sank up to the skin, stretched to where two tall chairs loomed. In front of the thrones was a waist-high plinth, on which rested the most wicked crown he had ever seen—a bronze weave of three-inch thorns, each spike-tip glinting.
And standing next to it was a woman.
She was dressed in a flowing red himation, belted at the waist to highlight her dramatic curves. Black, wavy hair fell across her shoulders. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, with lips the color of rosewood.
Aurelius stifled a gasp. Her? It was the woman who had saved them from the harpies.
What... what is this?
The moment of shock gave way to realization. The little snippets from his barely read briefings.
“Princess Zosime!” said Ms. Securia, bowing her head. “To what do we owe the pleasur—”
“Remove the hag,” said Zosime, her voice as dark as fortified wine. “The herald and I need to talk. Alone.”
The two other fighters who had been with Zosime at the grove appeared out of nowhere and led Ms. Securia out.
Then his blood ran cold.
In the princess’s hand was a leather-covered folio.
It was the same folio that had been given to him by his mother.
