“What could the great Fae King want now?” She asks, lip curling.
“I’d like to bring you to meet with the First Bloodbane,” I say. If Cleo knows anything about this new threat, perhaps she and the old witch can share information.
She pastes a look of disinterest on her face, but I see the glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Why?”
“Call it kindness,” I say lightly, sarcastically.
“Such a generous King,” she drawls. After a moment she looses a heavy sigh and stands. “Fine, take me to her.”
She grabs her Bloodbane cloak and wraps it around herself as we take the stairs down to my office, where I know the old witch is waiting. I glance over my shoulder, noticing the gentle curve of Cleo’s girlish nose is the same as Verity’s. She catches my eye and glowers at me silently.
“You don’t want to meet her?” I ask quietly.
Cleo knows of whom I speak. “No,” she snaps. “And it’s none of your business.”
I don't quip that as the man who loves Verity with his entire being, it is my business. Instead, I lead her silently into the room where the old witch waits for us. I close the door behind us, surprised to see Erzur keeping the witch company. If one could say glowering at an old, wizened woman is keeping her company.
“Altair,” Erzur says irritably.
“What a pleasure to see you so early in the morning,” I say, smiling sarcastically. I turn to the old witch. “You may have met in passing, but this is Cleo.”
Cleo looks the First Bloodbane up and down, assessing her. To my surprise, she has no sarcastic comment or witty remark. She sits stoically, as if giving the old witch some form of silent respect. I wait for the old witch to lower herself into a chair near Cleo before joining them. I lace my fingers together, turning away from Erzur.
“We need to know more about the Shades; what kind of a threat they pose, what they want, how to stop them,” I say.
Cleo’s eyes flash, reminding me instantly of Verity and her fiery anger. “The Shades are nothing more than a myth.”
I sag. “What are the myths?”
“That they can bend the dark god himself to their will. That they feed on fear and darkness. In the stories, if they’re freed, they’ll be the end of this world,” Cleo explains, looking unbothered. “But they’re only stories.”
“I’m afraid you’re not quite right,” the old witch says with her warbling voice.
Cleo’s eyes snap towards her and her lip curls. “And what would you know of it? You haven’t lived with the sisters for eons.”
“I have my own sisters. And we are ruled by no one.” The witch’s voice is calm, but her indigo eyes bore into Cleo.
Cleo shifts. “Perhaps the stories are different in the wastelands,” she relents.
The old witch studies her appraisingly. “The stories are much the same, but we know they aren’t stories. There are records of the Shades in the ruins throughout the wastelands. They almost succeeded once before and will try again unless they’re defeated.”
“They almost made it out of the ether?” I chew the inside of my cheek. “How were they stopped?”
“I don’t know.” The witch shakes her head. “I must return to the wastelands, to my sisters, and find more information.”
Cleo looks jealously at the old woman. She opens her mouth to speak but the clicking of Erzur's nails on the table catches our attention. Cleo's eyes narrow at the ebony queen and she smiles like a cat with a mouse in its paws. "Is there something you would like to add, Fae?"
Erzur scowls. “Indeed, Bloodbane.” They glower at each other before Erzur turns her attention on me. “There’s no need to prepare for war, Altair. You heard it yourself, we know very little of these Shades. They can’t leave the ether on their own and they’ve already failed once. This doesn’t require your attention.”
I sense she has her own suggestion. I loose a long breath, quelling my irritation. None of us would be here, if it weren’t for her. “And what does require my attention?” I ask coolly.
“We should be planning a wedding, not a war.” She stands, her gentle curves and lean figure draped attractively in a soft, gauzy gown. She curls her fingers over my shoulder. “Set a date.”
My thoughts flash back to this morning, to the strength it took me to shift back from the curse. I shake my head. “Later. Alnembra must be recovered, debts must be paid. And the Shades are not an imaginary threat.”
“Then I retract my support,” Erzur quips. “Alnembra will be weak, ripe for the taking by some of your northern neighbors.”
“Erzur,” I say, voice low and dangerous as anger flares in my chest. “Don’t threaten me.”
“Or what?” She bites back.
I rise, towering over her. My eyes are dark and shadowed and I curl my lip at her. “I won’t tolerate threats to my people. Surely, you’ve seen enough to know this. Don’t forget, I’ve been a beast for a thousand years. I can summon the more demonic parts of my nature readily. All manner of things could happen.”
Her lip quivers almost imperceptibly but she sticks out her chin. “Set a date, or I leave.”
I consider letting her walk out of here, taking her sun soldiers with her. It would free me of my obligations, but I know what will happen when she leaves. Word will spread quickly, and as my people return, enemies will descend on us. I bare my teeth at her, nostrils flaring angrily because I know all I’ve done is
