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Her painted mouth curved.
In fact, she’d sent him there. For being a terrible mentor, certainly. For risking Azlandia and those under her rule, without question. But more for the lifetime of insults he’d delivered — the barbed corrections disguised as kindness, the criticism couched in concern, the neglect concealed by endless hours spent in his presence, under his tutelage.
Death by a thousand tiny cuts.
Her father had specialized in slicing her to ribbons. Almost to the quick, but… no matter. She’d won in the end. He rotted in his grave while she sat on the Azlandian throne, ruling the realm much better than he had.
Lyonesse smiled at herself in the mirror. Despite his scathing opinion of her character, she knew he was wrong. She was regal. She was cunning. She was born to be aQueen… and a queen deserved her comforts — exquisitely crafted make-up vanities included.
Another rap on the door, this one less polite.
With a flick of her lashes, she dismissed her servant. “See to the door.”
Bare feet pattering across hand-painted wooden floors and mosaic inlay, Korah scurried beneath the archway and crossed the antechamber. Stopping at the double doors, she reached for one of the ornate handles. A moment before she grasped it, Lyonesse snapped her fingers. Pink sparks flared against her skin. Magic spun across the chamber. The door swung open, making Korah stumble back in surprise.
Lyonesse laughed under her breath.
Standing in the hall, Anckar scowled at the girl.
Korah genuflected and backed away, face pale, head bowed.
Enjoying the results of her game, Lyonesse’s lips curved. Killing the Cropper might bring momentary satisfaction, but putting the slave in her place felt so much better. Lines must be drawn. A strong message must be sent. Boundaries must be respected. The lowest among her subjects must never be allowed to forget Electis ruled the land. Their superiority to other races and species should never be questioned.
“Anckar,” she murmured, disappointment ringing hollow in her chest. The captain of her guard was not who she’d been expecting. Lyonesse waved him into her bed chamber anyway. “Where is Priestly?”
“He was delayed, Majesty.”
An awful suspicion prickled through her. Her silk gown pooled, sliding across the floor as she swiveled on the stool and raised a brow. “Delayed?”
“Unexpectedly.”
“You lie,” she said, scenting the deception.
“Majes —”
“Where is he?”
Standing at the foot of her four-poster bed, he shuffled from foot to foot.
“You do not know?”
“Well…”
Shoving the stool back, she popped to her feet. Her wings bounced, tangling her feathers. With a jerk, she resettled the dark pink plumes and frowned at her guard. “I was to receive an update from him.”
“As to that…” he paused to deliberate, choosing his words with care. “If you’ll permit me to —”
“You have news?”
Anckar opened his mouth.
“Get on with it.” She flung a hand out, temper seething, impatience snapping at its tail. “Tell me.”
“The gargoyle has not been found,” he said, taking a step back when she flexed her fingers.
Hot pink flames rippled over her shoulders, then flared off the hooked claws on her wings. Heat blasted into the room. Still in the antechamber, hiding behind heavy damask curtains tied to the sides of the archway, Korah cringed and —
“Yet, Majesty,” Anckar said, swallowing before resetting his courage. “He’s not been foundyet, but… the hunt is still young, barely begun. There are many more places to search.”
