Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(29)

Just when she’d begun backing off the balcony, Morgana joined her. “Still afraid they’ll come here for you?”

“Occasionally.” Always.

“That’s not rational. There’s never been a Vrekener in Abaddon. Why would they chase you down?”

“Vrekeners never abandon their hunt.” Yes, she’d once been a mouse beneath a hawk’s talon, and she’d escaped. But she knew the hawk would never rest until it had recaptured its prey.

“How could they even reach this plane?” Morgana asked. “They can’t trace or create portals. They can’t simply fly really, really hard.”

I know this.

“There were rumors that the elders of the Vrekener clan vowed to end the killings after Eleara,” Morgana said in an inscrutable tone. “Didn’t you tell me that your attackers were an offshoot group, acting outside of orders?”

Bettina gazed down at her shaking hands. “I believed so.” Though Vrekeners condemned spirits, the four who’d targeted her had been drunken—and their violence had seemed . . . personal. We’ve been watching you, Princess. “I-I can’t be sure.”

“Perhaps if Raum can actually eliminate them, you’d feel safer.”

For Bettina’s willing participation in the tournament, her godparents had made her promises. Raum would send a cadre of demons out to hunt down and secretly assassinate all of Bettina’s winged attackers—as yet, those Vrekeners remained untouchable. Morgana would locate and return Bettina’s power to her. The sorceress remained coy as to whether she’d retrieved it or not.

“I’ll feel safer once I get my power back.” Bettina had once been a Queen—not yet a royal one—but a mystical one. A Queen was someone who had better mastery over an element or force than anyone else. She’d been the Queen of Hearts—

“It didn’t help you the first time.”

“No. But I would learn to control it better, would practice more. Have you located it?”

Morgana quirked a mysterious blond brow. “Don’t worry—you’ll have it before you wed.”

Bettina sighed, turning her attention to the rain forest beyond the city. Deep within those giant moon-raker trees, closeted in vines, was her folly—what used to be her favorite place in Rune. But since the attack, she’d avoided any place with trees.

It was almost worse that she could always see the forest from here, forever out of reach.

She trained her gaze far below. Thousands of demons and other Loreans had flocked to the streets, tossing confetti over the procession of combatants.

Brightly colored pavilions and tents circled Abaddon’s famed Iron Ring—an enormous stadium with a caged arena. A grandstand overlooked all. Bold standards hung limp in the still, humid city.

Bettina surveyed the procession, shuddering at many of the “suitors.” The pus demon wore rubber boots and gloves to catch the filth bubbling from his skin. A pair of Cerunnos slithered along the cobblestone streets, leaving sidewinder trails in the confetti. A crocodilae shifter went shirtless, the better to show off his speckled, platelike skin.

“Look at the males below.” This is actually happening. She’d wanted to feel safe; those entrants were terrifying. “They’re repulsive.”

“Not all of them. I dated a coil of Cerunnos once—they’re not as bad as one would think.” Morgana tapped her claw-tipped finger against her bottom lip. “Regrettably, no Sorceri are expected to enter. Even assured of my involvement, they all think this contest will be fixed. Or that it will come down to simple brute strength.”

If the Lykae were the physically strongest breed of Lorean, the Sorceri were among the weakest.

Morgana frowned, then said, “Of course, I could force the issue—if I thought a champion of ours might actually survive.”

As the Queen of the Sorceri—both royal and mystical—she had absolute mastery over her subjects and all their individual powers. She could order any member of their species to do anything, and they would be compelled to obey. Or she could simply steal their powers.

Morgana wasn’t a beloved ruler, but she was content to be a dreaded one. “Alas, poisons are frowned upon in these matchups.” The Sorceri were famed toxinians. They didn’t necessarily make them, but they certainly utilized them.

“I don’t suppose you’ve finally stolen the power of foresight and have seen a good ending for this.”

“Foresight?” Morgana scoffed. “Never. Oracles go soft in the head. I’ll take my blind alleys and my sanity any day.”

“Surely you’re going to steer the course of this thing?”

“I cannot, by thought, action, or deed, affect the outcome of this tournament. But I did negotiate with Raum so that you would have some influence over the competition,” Morgana said. “There will be a lady’s choice round. Consider it a safety clause. Don’t ask what that entails, because I’ll say nothing more on the subject.”

Bettina’s question died on her lips. I hate it when she does that. “Are there any contestants here that you would accept as your husband?” she asked innocently.

“For gold’s sake, Bettina, you know I’ll never wed.” She flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. “I’m surprised that demonic wastrel you call friend hasn’t entered. Raum’s certainly for that.”