Treachery Queen (The Callistra Chronicles #1)

EIGHTEEN

PART THREE — SHADOW

Pasiphae of Eo no longer exists.

Chapter Eighteen

Queen Evara Basillerius of the Seelie Court stood facing the glass, facing the sprawl of her kingdom.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost see it for how it used to be. Lush greens on the ground and hazy purples in the sky when the rays touched the horizon. Soft baby blues when the sun was high in the sky, and fading darker as it revolved around the line of the land.

The Summer Solstice yesterday used to be the mark of a flourishing midnight sun. For two decades now, Airsei had celebrated its summer narrowly before Khotadi's winter, a power stand-off between the two nations. There was an unspoken battle each year of which kingdom could take the most magic from Callistra, and every year, Airesi was the golden throne of power. As was the nature with a frozen winter, Khotadi would fall behind.

But now, Evara realised, Airesi's solstice was a pitiful signifier of a dying empire.

Their celebration had been overwhelmed with the stench of rotting corpses on the jade-lined streets, crowds of dulled limps and drooping eyes under extravagant lights that did nothing to burn the weariness from their mood.

Evara took a seat on her throne. Through the glass walls, all she could see were patches of absolute death, of the Mors devastating the fields where flowers used to bloom.

"Your Majesty."

Evara inclined her head in the direction of the summoning.

"The council awaits your decision regarding our boats," her advisor prompted.

The Seelie Queen turned away from the glass. "I should hope so," she replied. "Last I heard, you sent the boats already."

The royal advisor stiffened. His wings held rigid, like they could shatter with a single tap.

"Your Majesty," he began tightly, "with His Highness Sesostris away from Court, you weren't to be bothered with mundane affairs—"

"I wasn't to be consulted on an act of war?" Evara cut in.

The advisor took a step back. "Your Majesty, we took utmost care to conceal—"

"The sentence is death."

He halted, his words tripping over each other at the sudden brake, tumbling and rolling down his tongue. When he collected himself, he could cohere nothing except a whisper of, "Pardon me?"

"I thought I spoke clearly." Evara raised an arm, and three guards filed in from their place by the door.

"Come morning, his head rolls."

***

"Were you going to mention it anytime soon?"

They paced down the hallway, a cog in the machinery. Left, right, in front and behind, other fae and humans were trying to get to their own rooms, jostling one another in their hurry. Not many spoke.

Pasiphae watched in contempt as Seth tried to rub dots of blood from his sleeve. The high noble table had been a bit of a splash zone.

"Mention what?" he mumbled into his sleeve. His eyes were still pulled wide, like his mind had recovered from the shock but his body hadn't.

Pasiphae pressed her lips together tightly, waiting. They came along another hallway and found their door, opening and closing it so harshly the hinges gave a hoarse squeak. Seth made way for the bathroom, barely acknowledging Charlize and Psyche, who jumped to their feet the moment he entered.