Alterant (Belador #2)(19)
Flaevynn now lounged on the onyx and gold chair carved in the shape of a dragon. Her eyes gleamed with a predator’s confidence and her voice dropped low with threat. “You know the answer to that or you would not be here. As you can see, my enforcer waits to give her report. State your business and be quick, elder.”
His mouth pinched tight as a raisin. “This realm exists to shield us while we fulfill our duties according to the timeline set forth. The hostility myst was not to be used this soon. You endanger all of us by rushing ahead without knowing the entire prophecy.”
“It’s a curse, not a prophecy,” Flaevynn snarled at him. “I will not sit quietly as my death approaches and condemn yet another queen to my fate.”
Kizira doubted any altruistic intentions on Flaevynn’s part about future queens.
Undeterred by Flaevynn’s caustic bite, Gruin argued, “I am your advisor—”
Flaevynn cut him off with, “I don’t recall asking for your advice, old man.” She pointed a long black fingernail sprinkled with diamonds at him.
He backed up a step, then froze as if his feet wouldn’t move. “I’m an elder . . . protected by Cathb—”
Flaevynn swirled her finger in a tiny circle.
Kizira had never heard of an elder being killed, as the punishment for harming one was severe, but with Cathbad in the dungeon there was no one else powerful enough to intimidate Flaevynn.
Gruin’s lips yanked open. He started gagging as his tongue slid out, stretching until the pink flesh narrowed to the thickness of a pencil. A strangled cry squealed from his throat when his tongue began looping into a knot. From nowhere, a thin metal spike appeared and drove down through his tongue between the knot and his mouth.
Blood from the wound ran down his chin, spiking the air with a coppery scent.
He fell to his knees, fingers gouging his throat. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks. A pitiful sound streaked past his constant gagging. His face turned deep red before he fell forward on the marble floor and stopped moving . . . or breathing.
Kizira felt Flaevynn’s eyes on her, observing . . . judging. The queen punished weakness. Any aid Kizira might offer would only make this worse for the elder as well as herself.
Tapping into the role she’d created so long ago for survival, Kizira smiled at Flaevynn when she remarked, “I hadn’t considered the spike. Effective and brutal. Nicely done.”
Flaevynn appeared satisfied, almost smiling. She glanced down at the inert form, made a sound of disgust and snapped her fingers.
The elder jerked, then started gasping and coughing. He struggled to his knees, breathing hard through his open mouth now that his tongue had been released. Blood coated his thin lips.
Flaevynn told him, “I allow you to breathe again so that you can take my warning back to the other elders. Do not interfere where you are not needed or invited.” She looked from him to the entrance, where two guards built like ancient Spartans stood. They each hooked one of the elder’s arms and walked out carrying him between them.
Flaevynn moved her hand to the right of her throne and held it there until a young man with black hair and a perfect body appeared. He wore leather chaps and a silver choker. The punishment collar consisted of spiked links that would stab the man’s neck when anyone yanked on the braided silver rope dangling from the choker.
The queen gave the rope a light tug, and the collar pricked bloody spots on the young man’s skin.
He didn’t so much as flinch, and, like a well-trained animal, he turned his body to face her throne.
Flaevynn believed that a constant supply of young men in her bed would keep her beautiful and desirable, but she had no control over aging . . . or the last day of her predestined life.
Not without conquering Treoir Island first.
“You’ve returned sooner than I expected,” Flaevynn said, releasing the leash. She ran her hand down her man-toy’s sculpted abs. “Since you didn’t take time to change into a proper robe to meet with me I can only assume you rushed here with good news. How many Alterants are left to retrieve?”
Kizira stepped forward until she stood upon a white tiger rug with her booted feet apart and hands clasped behind her back. She couldn’t put this off any longer. “We still have to locate and capture all five Alterants.”
Fury burned through the queen’s gaze. “What happened, Kizira? You said the bounty hunters we gave the spell to could bring in the female Belador Alterant.”
No, I said the ambush was a gamble I didn’t recommend and the men weren’t qualified. But someone had to be blamed for the failure. “They lost her.”
“Lost? As in misplaced an Alterant? How does one do that?”
Kizira held her calm. Flaevynn’s anger could cower an army of guards, and she would only grind someone harder if they showed any vulnerability. Feeling the expected mental nudge from her suspicious queen, Kizira filled her mind with distress over having disappointed her sovereign.
Revolting, but effective, because the intrusion disappeared.
Kizira gave up a commiserative sigh, explaining, “Our hunters almost had the female Alterant overpowered, but the VIPER liaison Sen teleported her away. We had the best bounty hunters available, but nothing like Dakkar’s. We would have used his if he hadn’t turned down the contract.”
“Offer him more.”
“I tried. He refuses to even discuss it.”