Couple by couple, the lords and ladies filed in, each standing before the Queen and Lucian. His friends entered last of all, hanging at the periphery. From their blank expressions, it was hard to tell what they were thinking. If they didn’t think him possessed by the Queen’s magic before, they almost certainly did now.
By the time all had gathered, the Queen shifted beside him. Lucian noticed Cleon staring murderously at Lord Kiani, who seemed oblivious. His wife wasn’t looking at Cleon, but at him and the Queen. No, definitely not Cleon’s sister.
“Be welcome, Mage-Lords and Mage-Ladies,” Queen Ansaldra said. “I thank you for attending my little soiree on such short notice.”
Little? If this were little, then Lucian didn’t want to see what a big one looked like.
“Tonight, we have honored guests among us.” She raised a hand toward Lucian’s friends. “A delegation from the Far Riftlands is here, who have agreed to accompany me to court and work with me on an important matter – one that stands to strengthen and unify all of Psyche. Tomorrow, the delegation will be setting sail aboard the Zephyr for the Westlands, as far as the border of the Burning Sands.”
This elicited excited murmurs from the crowd. Apparently, it was either a high honor to fly with the queen on her airship, or the Westlands of Psyche were as exotic as the Riftlands to these people.
“As my very closest friends,” she continued, with a winning smile, “I thought this delegation could regale you with tales of life in the dangerous Rifts of Psyche. Cleon Dowe, once a Mage-Knight, now fights for Kiro Village of the Deeprift.” At being mentioned, Cleon’s face reddened, either in embarrassment or anger. “The beautiful Serah Ocano, an expert Gravitist.” Serah’s face paled at the mention of her name. “Fergus Madigan, captain of the Kiro Watchmen, a Radiant of renown.”
Lucian wondered where she had learned all this information. Could she have sifted it from their minds? What else had she found out? At that moment, Lucian realized why she wasn’t afraid of them turning on her, or of even allowing them weapons. She could probably read their intent long before even they realized what they were doing.
How could you fight someone like that? Was she aware of his thoughts, even now?
She gave him a sidelong glance. Lucian faced forward, to keep those knowing eyes from seeing into him.
“And last of all,” she said, pausing for emphasis. “My consort for the evening: Lucian Abrantes, the most powerful Binder in all the Worlds.”
This got the biggest reaction, some even going so far as to applaud. What was he, her monkey? But it was best to play it cool. He tried not to let his anger show, nor let the Sorceress-Queen know how she was grating at him.
“So, my friends. Eat, drink, and be merry,” she said. “The Riftlands delegation is at your disposal.”
She clapped her hands once, and the orchestra began to play anew. Immediately, the nobles began to mingle as servants weaved in and out, serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres.
“Stay near me, and you’ll be fine,” she said.
Without waiting for a response, she strolled into the crowd, engaging a group of nobles with a charming smile. She immediately had them under her spell. They tittered at some joke as Lucian awkwardly approached. He scanned the crowd for his friends, but they were already getting swarmed by their own nobles.
This was going to be a long night.
39
Thankfully, Lucian did not have to talk much. He did have to answer questions, and tried some of the food offered by servants, more to blend in than anything else. He held a drink in his hand but intended to nurse it all evening. His goal was to not stick out, but of course, that was impossible when he was the object of attention and “the Best Binder in the Worlds.” The Queen had needed some justification to take him as her consort. He hadn’t liked the sound of that at all and hoped this companionship did not extend beyond this evening.
He answered questions about Earth, which no one had visited save the Queen and some of the older Mage-Lords. He spoke of the Volsung Academy but didn’t volunteer information beyond what was asked. The Queen’s eyes weighed him with every word he spoke, so it was best to speak as little as possible.
The Queen offered her arm, and even if he didn’t want to take it, he only did so because it was expected. The last thing he wanted was for her to take offense and have every Mage-Lord and Lady come down on him in her defense. It was easier to pretend. This night would be temporary. If he had to make concessions to reach the Orb of Psionics, he would. What was his pride in the grand scheme of the galaxy?
They were approaching Lord Kiani and his wife. Lord Kiani, who Cleon had called “the Butcher of the Westlands.” From his size alone he could do a lot of damage, notwithstanding his magic. Standing with his beautiful wife in her pearlescent dress, Lucian felt something was off as he and the Queen entered their space.
“Mage-Lord Kiani,” the Sorceress-Queen said. “I’m pleased to see you once again.”
The Butcher offered a winning smile. “Your Majesty. You honor my wife and me with your kind words.”
The wife gave a deep curtsy, spreading her skirts wide while inclining her head. “Your Majesty. You’re positively radiant this evening.”
“As are you, Lady Catherine,” the Queen said. “Perfectly lovely, as always.”
Catherine? This wasn’t Cleon’s sister at all. Lucian tried not to show too much curiosity. He also noted some tension in the Queen’s voice. These two weren’t on good terms, despite the pleasantries. Jackals in dresses.
“Lord Kiani,” the Sorceress-Queen went on, “I believe Sir Cleon was under your purview, yes?”
She already knew that, so Lucian
