after a turn of impotent fury that the speaker realized he had no choice but to obey. Drusilla was holding the one person in the world he truly loved to ransom. She had the one weapon that could truly be used to hurt him.
As long as Marielle was in their keeping, Adonai was in their thrall.
So he’d allowed them to bind him in irons. He’d delivered the imperator to the Mountain as commanded, the Blades that Drusilla had called to Mia Corvere’s kill. He played the meek one, the frightened one. Hoping the Lady of Blades might be foolish enough to deliver herself into his clutches to gloat or goad. But she never did.
And so now, Adonai waited. A picture of perfect calm without. A tightening knot of crimson rage within. Palms pressed to his knees, legs crossed, only the ruby liquid in the pool before him to betray his agitation. Mia had arrived in his chamber, breathless and bloody, only to discover her father had outwitted her and doubled back into the Mountain. She’d fled off into the labyrinthine halls in pursuit, her comrades on her heels, sadly neglecting to take the time to free Adonai from his chains before she departed. Rather unkind, he’d mused, but sooner or later, she must—
“Speaker.”
Adonai opened his eyes. Belly thrilling with fury.
“Imperator,” he hissed.
Scaeva coalesced out of the shadows before him, chest heaving. A serpent made of shadows was coiled about his neck, his wounded arm bound with bloody cloth. A boy stood beside him, bleached with fear—presumably the imperator’s son. Spiderkiller stood there also, the gold that usually glittered at her throat and wrists conspicuously absent. But Adonai was far more concerned with the woman sagging in the Shahiid’s arms.
Sister love, sister mine …
Marielle was drugged senseless, eyelids drooping, hands bound. Spiderkiller held a small golden knife against his sister’s throat.
Adonai narrowed crimson eyes. The blood in the pool churned to life, long whips of it uncoiling from the surface and rising like snakes, pointed like spears, weaving closer to Scaeva and his brat and the Shahiid of Truths. But Spiderkiller tightened her black grip on Marielle, pressed her dagger into his sister’s neck.
“I think not, Speaker,” she said.
“Thy daughter is searching for thee, Julius,” Adonai said, looking at Scaeva. “She was here a moment ago. If thou wouldst take but another moment to catch thy galloping breath, I am certain she’ll be back anon. Unless thou dost plan to spend the rest of the turn playing hide-a-seek with her in this dark?”
“Transit,” the imperator said, ignoring his barb. “Back to Godsgrave. Now.”
“The seed ye planted, come full to flower. Watered with thy hatred and now blossomed fulsome and red.” A pale smile twisted the speaker’s lips. “This is why I sought to make no daughters.”
“Enough,” Spiderkiller snarled. “Send us to Godsgrave.”
Adonai turned his eyes to the woman. “Fool ye must think me, Shahiid, to send my sister love with thee to thy Grave.”
“Refuse us again, and I’ll deliver Marielle to hers.”
“Then shall ye die.”
“And your sister love will join us, Speaker. Right before your eyes.”
Adonai glanced at the dagger pressed to his sister’s neck, his lips curling in derision. “Think ye thy blade sharp enough to draw blood near the likes of me, little spider?”
“The littlest spiders have the darkest bite, Adonai,” the Shahiid replied.
Adonai narrowed his eyes, noting the dagger pricking his sister’s skin was slightly discolored. A small droplet of Marielle’s blood welled on the tip, ruby bright.
“Already my venom worms its way to your sister love’s heart,” Spiderkiller said. “And only I have the knowing of the cure. Kill us, and you kill her besides.”
The Shahiid smiled, lips black and curling. She had him at checkmate, and Adonai and she both knew it. Trapped in the Mountain, Scaeva’s daughter would catch the Shahiid of Truths and the imperator eventually, no matter how many times they switched back and forth under her nose in the gloom. Their painful deaths would soon follow. The truth was, the pair had nothing to lose, and Adonai knew Spiderkiller was ruthless and vindictive enough to kill Marielle before she died just to spite him.
In truth, he’d always liked that about her.
And so, eyes still on his sister’s, the speaker waved to the pool, his voice calm as millpond water.
“Enter and be welcome.”
“… Be careful, Julius…,” the shadowviper hissed.
Scaeva’s stare was fixed firmly on Adonai’s, his voice cold and hard.
“No tricks, Speaker,” he warned. “Or your sister dies, I swear it.”