Drothiker

“She will kill her, and then us both for disturbing her for this.” Vendrik was pacing in Azryle’s bedroom, while he perched in the bed, holding greone in hand, waiting for Felset’s message.

Vendrik was right, maybe, people had died for interrupting the Enchanted Queen for slightest hitches. But this was no slight hitch; Syrene certainly seemed an important asset to Felset, sending her back to Jegvr did not seem like an option.

Azryle shrugged. “Do you know what else to do? There’s not a single unfilled chamber at the fortress.” They couldn’t send her back to the castle either—not without Felset’s endorsement. That had never ensued before, no slave had ever been deemed significant enough to brood much over, even as it wrenched his gut to admit it.

Alpenstride was with Faolin Wisflave at the crypt right now—however they were adjusting.

After setting things there, Azryle and Vendrik had returned to their apartments down in the city. Vendrik lived across the hall—alone, since Lilith’s death.

The firebreather was saying, “Do you think it’s just the information Her Majesty wishes from Alpenstride?”

“It’s an information worth wasting my days, apparently, engaging me in trainings than killings.” Azryle rubbed at greone’s glass, willing a color to saturate it—reply from Felset. “She hasn’t appointed you with any task either, excluding staying in Nofstin; I’d say it’s important enough.”

Rik’s lips thinned in a tight line. “Do you know where Maycusen is?”

Thinking of it, Azryle hadn’t heard from the jaguar shifter in months. “Probably tangled up in bed with someone.”

Vendrik opened his mouth but—

Greone in Azryle’s hand vibrated, turned iridescent. His brows knotted. “She wants to holocall.”

He lifted to his feet and bent to poise the device on the grey carpet. Azryle lifted his gaze to Vendrik. With his nod, he tapped greone, answering his queen’s holocall.

Felset appeared half-a-moment before he straightened wholly, ghost of her stood amid Vendrik and Azryle. Her figure pellucid and clouded, as if a wraith without a body. She was fronting Azryle. “I heard what went down there.” Her voice was calm as per usual, but he’d be a fool to mistake it for passive. “But I’m hoping you two have the particulars?”

Azryle kept his face unyielding, just as Vendrik was doing. “The man’s name was Kessian Wensel, from Wolf Tribe. Third to the Lady of Wolves. Alpenstride’s friend—former friend. Two hours before the incident, they’d engaged in a verbal fight.”

The Enchanted Queen lifted a brow. “A fight?”

Azryle corrected, “Wensel affronted her.”

“Did Syrene fight back?”

“No.”

“What did she do, then?”

“Nothing.”

Felset’s chin lifted. “Ah.” She looked up at him and gave a serpentine smile. “Does that not say enough about how her training is going, Prince?”

Azryle contained himself from clenching his jaw, for even a maneuver that harmless would be his return ticket to those dungeons. “I’m working on it.”

Felset’s smile grew. “Good.” She asked, “Why else was I summoned?”

It was Vendrik who answered, sparing him from the queen. Or contrariwise. “We are scarce on chambers, Your Majesty.” Felset turned to the firebreather. “There was mejest done to Wensel’s body. As soon as we lifted a piece, the chamber exploded.”

“Exploded?”

“Everything inside burst out. The bed, cabinets. Even in the bathroom.” Shards had stabbed the two soldiers who had followed Azryle to the crypt. No severe damage, though. Vendrik went on, “The body, too. All the other chambers are occupied—”

She turned back to Azryle. “Is that why you sought me out?” Upon his silence, she thinned her lips—irritated, his queen. Azryle waited for a fatal blow, mentally braced himself. But Felset said, a calm voice bearing daggers caked in poison, “I told you to prepare her. I care not whether she stays at the fortress or at street. You have her stay with yourself in this apartment, if need be. But I want her prepared by the time of the Pensnial Duel, I want her to fight back. Is that clear?”

Azryle opened his mouth to protest, but as if already assuming it, Vendrik cut him off. “He understands.”

The queen smiled, not facing the firebreather. “See, my Second understands the consequences and follows; you could use that, Prince. Don’t make me regret cutting your days in dungeons short.”

Why wouldn’t he, Azryle almost spat, you had his pregnant wife killed right before him as a consequence of challenging you once. But all he worded was, “She will be fully equipped by the time of duel.”

Felset smiled. “Anything else?”

“Nothing.”

She turned to Vendrik. “You must be pondering over why I have you staying in Nofstin.” Before the firebreather could reply, Felset went on, jerking her chin in Azryle’s direction. “This is why. Keep an eye on the training for me, will you? Make sure this nephew of mine here works and conforms.”

No, that was not the reason at all. Vendrik was being held here to keep Azryle reminiscent that he might say he had nothing to lose, nothing Felset could use to keep him confined, but Vendrik was right there. Azryle had a friend to lose, should he fail at this particular task.

Felset had built a tether between Azryle and Vendrik—allowing Azryle to feel fondness towards Vendrik only. A weapon to be used against Azryle, should he ever dare defy the queen.

And he’d fought it—otsatyas knew Azryle had done everything in his power to keep himself from caring. But it had been as if a current of crammed feelings had been wallowed in him for centuries, impatient and vicious, and when an opening was given for it to break free, it’d begun leaking.

Azryle had never intended to let Felset succeed at weaponizing Vendrik, but the Enchanted Queen failed at nothing, least of all manipulating.

Vendrik was well aware of that, too. But he nodded all the same. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As the Enchanted Queen vanished, a hateful snarl from Azryle cleaved the air. He lifted his greone and pocketed it in his sweats, avoiding the urge to slam it in a wall nearby. When he perched back in his bed, Vendrik asked, “What are you to do next?”

“Sell a slave, maybe, to free a chamber.”

“It’ll take days to find a buyer.”

Azryle bared his teeth, annoyed from the wretched day he’d had. “Do you have any better ideas?”

His friend shrugged. “We have two apartments here.”

“Cut the horseshit.” He clutched his hair back, ready to call it a day. A long damned day. “She’s staying at the fortress.”

“Where in the fortress?”

“You want her to stay with me … here?”

“No, you will move to my apartment.”

Azryle snorted. “You want her to harbor alone in an apartment? You don’t think she is going to try to escape? You don’t think the Tcoiine of Sluwine is going to want to have a talk with Felset, should Syrene escape?” Tcoiines, owners of Jegvr, a cluster representing continents, had each right to probe the Enchanted Queen, no matter what power she held, should a slave go astray. Felset would be lucky if it was the Tcoiine of Sluwine—this continent—alone who would want to speak with her, and not the others.

Vendrik leaned against the wall, ruby-red plait sliding off his shoulder, flames in eyes burning bright. “Our apartments are literally at the highest level. Fortress is crammed with soldiers and sentries who can keep watch here.”

“Why not simply sell a slave?”

“Because it’s not right, Az,” the firebreather snapped, then heaved out a sharp breath. “I understand that you, being a ripper, bear no sentiments. But they’re not things, Ryle, they’re people. They committed a crime, and they have been punished for it for more than fifteen years. All they have is slavery ahead of them. And selling them from one owner to another as if they’re no more than toys discovered on streets …” Vendrik shook his head, eyes shut tight. His voice dropped. “You’re a ripper—bound to Her Majesty. You should know how slavery feels like, everything wrong with it.”

He did know. But the pity Vendrik was feeling, that sentiment that had flames in his eyes guttering … Azryle wasn’t capable of feeling it, that fact held—he would never understand, never know. But he only sighed, sliding out of bed. “Fine. I’ll move tonight. You are going to bring her in tomorrow. And explain to Felset if that cub escapes.”

Walking out of the bedroom, Vendrik said something that Azryle chose not to hear.