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Her short, raven hair had golden stripes and cascaded under her earlobes; her thick bangs hung above her long, narrow eyebrows. Was her hairstyle that accentuated her porcelain skin also the vanguard of the new era for humans?
She wore a lavender vintage tunic with artful embroidery and a pair of dark purple pants, which was the color of the City ofAmethyst. Quite clever. From what I’d seen so far, the women of this period had abandoned wearing gowns associated with feminine beauty.
A blue gem nesting against her exposed cleavage caught my eye. I recognized it immediately. The Dragon Gem belonged to the heir to the throne. It was supposed to be mine on my sixteenth birthday, only I hadn’t had the chance to receive it since I’d been teleported to another planet on my fifteenth birthday.
Had KingDaghda given all that were mine to his mistress? My eyes went cold at his profound betrayal, and ragecoursed through my veins.
Iokul’s hand touched the small of my back, its coolness and solidness comforting me. When I sat down along with the other attendees, I’d managed to get my trembling under control. My mate placed his hand on my knee to reassure me of his presence.
My stare never left the consort.
Her eyes were pale blue and held no innocence, only greed. When she opened her mouth, power—dark and potent—poured out with her words. Thin smoke twirled around the room, brushing against every member of the audience. But no one else could see it except me.
I wasn’t sure if Iokul’s ice magic could shield us from the foul smoke, but I wasn’t willing to take a chance. Instantly, I brought out my glamour and erected a shield around us.
I glanced at Iokul, and he nodded subtly, his eyes glacially cold. He’d sensed her power. The consort could enthrall and control minds.
Blind devotion etched on every face in the room. Only Iokul and I were immune to her power.
Lysandra snapped her head, scanning the room, a chilly smile ghosting on her suddenly cruel face. Her eyes widened and sharpened as she found me. She stared straight at me, then at Iokul.
I knew she’d seen through my glamour and Iokul’s ice shield. She’d seen his mask and knew exactly who he was—the Dragon Ice Prince of the Oslan Dominion.
As for me—we had never met. Could she know who I was? Was she the one who had sent the possessed dragon to kill me, or was she also a pawn?
From the vicious, knowing look in her eyes, I believed that we were made.
I held her gaze, let my magic stretch out, and brushed over her to get a reading. Her smoke hissed at my magic and pushed it back.
But I’d gotten what I wanted. I had no need to further probe her. I’d seen her for what she was.
Lysandra was as old as my mates, yet she was still a mortal.
The consort was a black witch.
KingDaghda was ancient and powerful, yet the witch had gotten him and driven him mad.
I wouldn’t underestimate her.
Lysandra’s eyes fixed on me like a blade bleeding with hate and jealousy, and I hadn’t even taken back my throne from her yet.
Of course, she’d take out the threat at the first chance.
The smoke left the humans, gathering and redirecting their attack toward me.
Instinctively, I threw up a hand, but no shield of light came out of me.
Iokul grabbed me and threw me out of the way just before the smoke smashed onto the spot where we’d formerly sat.
In front of our eyes, our table companions—Toni, Daphne, the businessman, and his wife— turned to clay statues before shattering to a pile of dirt.
Nausea swirled in my belly, even though the potency of the foul magic hadn’t hit me directly.
None of the other humans paid any attention to what had just happened to us, or if they did, they probably didn’t care much.
“We have to go,” Iokul said tightly. “There’s nothing you can do for them now.”
The smoke hissed like a rattlesnake, ready to strike again.
