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“What about that memory tea?” I asked the high priestess. “Could that protect our minds?”
“I believe so.” She rubbed her furry chin. “I will speak with Isa.”
Tari clutched her stomach and moaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I jumped to my feet, pointing to a priestess. “Get her a bucket.”
The satyrs scrambled and produced a chamber pot that was thankfully empty. I placed it on Tari’s lap moments before she vomited into the pot.
Shiri sat beside her, pulling her hair out of her face and rubbing her back while she heaved several more times. Feeling utterly useless, I paced the floor, my inner wolf howling to break free and scale the walls.
Ash’s eyes flashed again, his voice dropping to a wolf’s rumble as he glared at Esther. “Your tea didn’t work.”
She turned up her chin, showing my brother no fear. “It’s not for nausea.”
I shot Ash another warning look. “Do you have anything else to soothe her?” I asked the high priestess.
She nodded. “I will have my priestesses make an ointment you can rub on her chest.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Esther glared at my brother once more before she and her priestesses clomped out of the bedchamber.
Tari finally stopped vomiting and laid back against the cushions with a groan.
I gave Shiri a helpless look, a maelstrom of emotions threatening to shatter my soul. “What can I do?”
Shiri motioned to the bucket. I carried it out into the hall, waving down a priestess who took it from me.
When I returned, Ash was pacing the floor and Shiri was gently tucking the blankets around Tari.
“What else can I do?” I hated this helpless feeling while wishing Ash and I could find that mind spinner and shred him to pieces like we’d done to Fachnan.
“Just be here for her,” she whispered before kissing her sister’s forehead. She stood and took Nikkos’s hand, a tear sliding down her cheek.
“I’ll always be here for her,” I whispered, staring lovingly down at my mate. “Always.”
Flora
AFTER REFUSING TO WEAR the hoop, and the face paints, and the ghastly blue wig, I looped arms with my mates and walked down the long corridor toward the dining hall, choosing to arrive at court a quarter hour late, knowing unpunctuality had always infuriated my sister.
I cursed my slick slippers while sliding across the marble throne room floor, empty save for three musicians hunched over their instruments on the dais, plucking at strings that sounded like dying cats. I caught sight of Malvolia’s throne, the floral chair from our grandmother’s sitting room, one of the few pieces of furniture that had survived the Dark Tide. I frowned as painful memories resurfaced. How I hated it here.
When we entered the dining hall, I was shocked to see our grandmother’s long table had been replaced by a round monstrosity. Various sycophants that I didn’t recognize sat around the table, wearing hideous wigs and face paints. There were more open chairs than filled chairs, and the room had gone so quiet, I could only hear the wild beating of my own heart as I stared into the narrowed eyes of my twin. She wore all black, as usual, her plunging neckline that barely covered her nipples leaving little to the imagination. Her black face paints, black lipstick, and shiny black crown of thorns upon her head was a touch dramatic, though I expected nothing less from Malvolia. Though she didn’t wear a hideous wig, her hair was plaited like intricate vines, twisting around her crown to hold it in place.
“Flora, Lords Derrick and Marius.” She forced a smile that didn’t mask the coldness in her eyes. “I’m so glad you could join us.” She motioned to three empty chairs to her left. “To think, Princess Shirina and her mates sat in your very seats just a few nights ago.”
I refused to sit in the chair beside my sister when Marius pulled it out, so Derrick pulled out the next seat, and Marius took the seat beside my sister with Derrick sitting on my other side.
You don’t have to sit there, I projected to Marius, motioning to the empty seat by Derrick.
He frowned while rearranging his silverware. It’s fine.
Derrick looked around the table, scowling at the courtiers. “Where’s the rest of your court?” he asked my sister.
Her smile thinned. “They’ve retired to the country.”
“I see,” Derrick answered, a hint of mirth in his voice.
