I should have blushed. I almost wanted to. But despite the way Gallix looked at me, eyes raking over the way my top pressed my breasts almost chin-high and my pants clung tight to my waist, I didn’t feel threatened by him. If anything, I was a little relieved. If these were Apex’s friends here—and they sure acted like they were—then it meant that we weren’t entirely alone here on Nightmoor. These aliens knew Apex, and knew who I was, too. They were probably part of the escape plan—at least, so I hoped.
“I’m Atlanta, yes. It’s nice to meet you both.” I offered Ronan my hand first, which he regarded with confusion—then Gallix, who gave me a low bow as he grabbed hold of my fingers, lowering his lips down toward my knuckles for a kiss. At least, before Apex grabbed him by the white collar of his shirt and dragged him away just before his mouth touched my skin.
“Behave,” Apex growled at Gallix. “We were just about to leave.”
“Sure you were.” Gallix gave me a knowing wink. “If you two need a little more alone time, though—”
“We can wait outside.” Ronan reached out and moved Gallix toward the door. “Again, our apologies, Atlanta, Apex. Seeing as there is no need for concern, we can meet you in the great hall. Of course.”
“It is fine.” Apex’s voice was still a low growl, but Ronan’s apologies seemed to sit well with him. He looked a little more relaxed as he offered me his arm, at least. “We will go together. I am certain that we have kept Queen Lieja waiting for long enough already. It would not do well to linger any more than we already have.”
8
Apex
As far as entrances went, things could not have gone worse.
It was bad enough that we were late. Lateness was a boon only afforded to the noble and the wealthy. None of us, not even Atlanta, could claim that. Ronan’s family were of a religious caste that often took vows of poverty as a signifier of their faith. Gallix’s family line had been braided with callused fingers, sore backs, cheap booze and a significant number of increasingly dubious swear words. I was a specter, with only my wits, training, and the power of Lady Idria to guide me through the intrigues of court, and though Atlanta may have once been from a world of wealth and privilege, the collar around her neck and the black of her clothing made it clear that here on Nightmoor, she was nothing more than a slave.
But we were not simply late. Ronan and Gallix, who were supposed to be serving as my agents and guards here, were not making a very convincing show of it. Ronan, who should have been drawn to his full height and doing his best to look like the kind of warrior who would bite an assailant’s throat out with his teeth and drink their blood from their hollowed-out skull, bowed and greeted every lady, lord, ambassador and servant we passed as we made our way through the great hall as though he thought he was here to make friends. Gallix, who was supposed to have the foreboding gracefulness of a silent assassin, bumped into three separate servants on our way to Queen Lieja’s table and could not seem to keep his mouth shut.
“Ah, slum it all!” he roared as his elbow caught the temple of his third victim, one of the diminutive servants who had been tasked with hauling food in and out of the room. The servant stumbled as a result, very nearly spilling an entire tureen of soup onto the skirts of Lady Omantha of Xergon Five. She glared at us all as she swept her train away from the mess and strode off in a haughty huff. We could not even make an entrance without gaining enemies when Gallix’s clumsiness and foul mouth were involved.
And that was to say nothing of Atlanta.
Part of me wanted to glow with pride at the way she entered the hall on my arm, her stride confident and her head held high. But I could not risk being proud. Not when I knew she was blowing our cover with every step she took.
“You must try and look more demure,” I growled down at her through my teeth as we approached the high table. “Lieja will expect to see you broken and chastised, not flaunting around like a chickling that has just laid the biggest egg of the day.”
“Chastise me then,” she shot back at me. “I’m being obedient. I’m not making trouble. If you need to put on a better show for her, then do it. Until then, I’m not letting her see me beaten down.”
By the time we reached Lieja’s presence, it took all of the energy I had not to chastise all three of my companions. Ronan, I wanted to cuff at the ear. Gallix deserved a blow to the mouth—perhaps it would shut him up. And Atlanta…
“Good morning, my queen.” Her words dripped with sarcasm as she smiled up at Lieja, sly and coy. “My, what an enormous meal you are enjoying this morning. I do hope you don’t balloon up as a result of it. You know what they say—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips.”
Lieja’s mouth fell open so quickly, the mouthful of wine she had just sipped fell out over her lips as her brow set into a glare. I had to act quickly, lest Atlanta destroy all of our little ruses. I grabbed Atlanta’s wrist and turned her to me, then gave her the order we had practiced last night. My eyes met hers, then trailed down her lovely body until, with an aggravated groan, she sank to her knees on the floor.
“My apologies, Your Highness.” I scowled down at Atlanta
