Shadow's Claim

This was weird. Earlier Raum had visited—to talk about Morgana.

“Hello, hot-and-bothered,” Salem said to Morgana. Al-low, hot-n-bovvered.

The sorceress’s gaze found Salem’s vicinity. “Phantom, is that you?” Her imperious stance softened as she fluffed her hair. Bettina had never seen her godmother like this.

“Here in the flesh. So to speak,” he added. “What’s doin’, trix?”

“Oh, with me?” She examined her costume claws. “Just been supervising today’s Morganapalooza. I put together some opening acts down in the ring. They’re quite popular.” Her demeanor was boastful, her words laced with an I’m-kind-of-a-big-deal undertone.

“Opening acts? Like what?”

“Kobold tossing, ghoul cage fights. And the Morganza of them all: a nymph floor show.”

What’s a floor show?

Salem seemed to know—the air blurred around him, signaling his eagerness. He hastily said, “I should go do a patrol, you know, down ’round the ring-al area. For security purposes. For the good of the kingdom. I’ll let you two talk.” And then he was gone.

Morgana gazed after him and sighed. Then she turned to Bettina with a hard look. “Pour the wine.”

They took their glasses out onto the balcony. Feeling safe with the sorceress, Bettina only gazed upward once. “Okay, tell me. What’s a floor show?”

“Did you never see Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

At Bettina’s blank look, Morgana’s lips parted. “R.H.P.S.? I’ve been remiss with you. I can see that now.” To the sky, she murmured, “Eleara, forgive me.” To Bettina, she said, “Floor show: noun, nightclub acts that include singing and dancing. For my purposes, they are sexy acts. Or sex acts. I can’t remember which package I ordered.”

“I see.” No wonder Salem blazed.

“Now, I must depart soon to change for my referee duties, but this couldn’t wait. I don’t want to mince words”—as if she ever did—“but I don’t believe your godfather has located the fiends who attacked you. With the end of the tournament nearly upon us, I don’t think he can uphold his end of the bargain.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Those Vrekeners are likely deep into the air territories. Exactly how are death demons going to trace to a location like Skye Hall? It moves. And they can only teleport to places they’ve previously been. Say they actually bag a Vrekener and force their hostage to take them aloft to the Hall—is Abaddon to wage war? Because that’s what Raum courts.”

Bettina squeezed her goblet, surprised to find it bending in her grip. “They declared war on us when they nearly assassinated me, the future queen of this realm! And what about Eleara? They succeeded with her. What’s to stop them from wiping the Sorceri out completely?” From wiping me out? “Why can’t we do anything?”

“Though it’s difficult for our kind to wage a war—when we can’t find our enemies and their stronghold is impervious to sorcery—we’re not without victories. Why only six hundred years ago, Sabine decapitated the Vrekener leader, while her sister Melanthe maimed his son! All in one night! It’s said the son can’t fly without grueling pain to this day. A Vrekener who hates to fly? That must count for something.”

Sabine and Melanthe were both legendary for their deeds. As the Queen of Illusions, Sabine could make her victims see their worst nightmares. She’d used that power to seize the leader’s own mystical scythe—and behead him with it.

“In any case, don’t you think I have non-Vrekener concerns in my own queendom?” Morgana continued. “Portents bode ill; a nemesis rises.”

“La Dorada.” When Morgana didn’t deny it, Bettina said, “Is she alive?” La Dorada was the Queen of Evil, which meant that she could control evil beings. Including Morgana.

A sorceress who could master Morgana—as easily as Morgana could master her. Which one would get to the other first?

“I don’t yet know if she lives,” Morgana said. “Considering her arrival may harken the apocalypse, I’ve made this a bit of a priority. Besides, Raum was tasked with Vrekener disposal. Yet whenever I ask him about his progress, he’s very evasive.”

“He said the same thing about you concerning my power.”

“What?” And there went Morgana’s braids. “How dare he cast aspersions!”

“Do you have my ability or not?”

“And now you doubt me. I’m wounded. Terribly. If I weren’t wearing a face glamour of indifference, you’d see my eyes glinting exquisitely.”

“Just answer me.”

“Do I? Don’t I? You’ll have to wait and see if your godmother has kept her word to her most beloved goddaughter.”

Bettina didn’t know what to think. Frustration welled inside her. “I’m upholding my end of the deal, and if you two aren’t—”

Morgana dipped her claw in her wine, then flicked it at Bettina.

She glared, wiping the wine from her cheek with a swipe of her shoulder. When Bettina flicked wine back, Morgana retaliated with a wave of her hand; suddenly a bank of snow tumbled over Bettina.

Bettina gritted her teeth, brushing off her shoulders.

“That’s how you say ‘The subject is closed’ in Yeti.” Expression darkening, Morgana added, “Shall Abaddon have its first blizzard?”

And just like that, the matter was closed. I hate it when she does that.

Morgana’s pique disappeared as swiftly as it’d arrived. “Look at the crowds. I can hear your tax coffers growing fatter by the second. Raum is wily in that, at least.”

“Why do you disapprove of him so much?”

“I don’t disapprove of him. I hate him. He’s demonic and coarse. He fought me fang and claw over the lady’s choice round. Tonight he’ll see how right I was to include it.”

“Still don’t care to tell me anything about it? Such as if I’ll have a chance to take Goürlav out?”

“A chance? Hmm. There is a chance. And that’s all I’ll—”

“Say on the matter,” Bettina finished for her. She set her dented glass aside, resting her elbows on the railing, peering below. Something caught Bettina’s eye. A raven-haired female was sauntering through the crowds —though others were steering clear of her.

It had to be the odd spectator who’d been showing up every night. She had pointed ears and wore T-shirts emblazoned with PRINCE OF SHADOW #1! The strange fey creature brought buckets of theater popcorn that she never ate. She tried to start waves and chants, cheering Daciano on.

“Morgana, do you know anything about that weird female who shows up for each night’s fight, the one who wears trashy T-shirts?” Was she a former lover of his?

Bettina sniffed to herself. If so, that bitch ooooolllld.

“Hmm? Don’t concern yourself with her.”

“You didn’t answer my question. How is she connected to the Prince of Shadow? Tell me.” The female looked like a Valkyrie. Considered “good guys” in the Lore, the Valkyries were major Vertas players.

We don’t get many of her ilk here. In times past, the Deathly Ones had sided with the more nefarious factions of the Lore. For this Accession, Raum had already made gestures to ally with the Horde and other demonarchies aligned with the Pravus.

“Your eyes go bright, freakling. Are you jealous of the female? After all, you are the Shadow Prince’s Bride.”

“Of course I’m not jealous.” I might be jealous.

“He looks at you as if you’re a virgin vein. There’s much to be said for obsessive hunger.” Morgana patted her hand knowingly. “Solid partnerships have been built on less. Did I mention that I spoke with him the other night while he awaited his bout?”

“You did what?” Questions about the raven-haired spectator disappeared.