Nereus too was impressed with her knowledge. “I find you to be quite learned about art and culture and the ways of the world. I’ve made my decision.” His hand landed on her knee. “With your beauty and sexual prowess, you would be ideal for spawning.”
He had been interviewing her. She glanced down, saw Thronos’s arm muscles bulging as he clenched his fists.
—You said you’d roll with this!— She sipped from her goblet to buy time.
Thronos drained his. —If you’d been alone, would you have received Nereus?—
—Anatomically, I would have concerns.— So how should she lead Nereus off this spawning path? Bait and switch? Whom could she throw under the bus?
It came to her in a flash. “My dear Nereus, while I’m humbled that you would think of me for such an honor, I fear I can’t betray my queen.” Morgana was a big girl. She could handle an infatuated god.
“I don’t understand.”
Lanthe peeled his hand from her knee. “Surely you know of Morgana’s interest in you? She constantly rhapsodizes about your prodigious . . . intellect.”
“I was not aware of this.”
“For me to cross the Queen of Sorceri in this would be a fatal mistake.” Actually, crossing her in anything would prove fatal.
Morgana was a queen in two senses. Just as Lanthe was the Queen of Persuasion, with a persuasive ability greater than that of any other, Morgana—the Queen of Sorceri—possessed the ability to control her subjects and their powers absolutely. Plus, she was also the regent of the Sorceri.
“Is Morgana so fearsome, then?” Nereus asked.
“We are all fairly much helpless before her.” Well, except for her arch-nemesis La Dorada—who, incidentally, had risen for this Accession. “Taking something Morgana wants would be a treasonous act.”
He stroked his beard. “I will have to think on that.”
Had Lanthe done enough to deflect him?
An army of Nereids began serving the main course: lobster still in the shell, with sea vegetables as an accompaniment.
“This looks amazing!” Lanthe said, though she would never touch the lobster.
“Enjoy, my winsome sorceress.” When Nereus rose, she jerked her gaze upward before she got another eyeful. “Allow me to circulate so that my other guests don’t accuse you of monopolizing me. I’m not the only one who considers smiting a solution to social blunders.”
“Of course. Take your time.” She waved bye-bye, then turned her attention to Thronos, who was presently slouched in his chair, wings slack, regarding everything with a gimlet eye. Probably pondering how to kill a god.
“When Nereus gets back, I’m going to ask him about the portal.”
Thronos’s knuckles were white on his goblet when he drank.
Under her breath, she said, “I don’t have a choice in this. I refuse to die here, and I refuse to be trapped as some spawner beneath the ocean. I’m doing the best I can in a honey/vinegar situation.”
“I know this!” Thronos exhaled, then said in a lower tone, “I know. And that was clever to throw Morgana into the mix.”
“Let’s just hope it works.”
Appearing to shake away the worst of his ire, Thronos raised his goblet before her. “Taste this ale.” He seemed almost buzzed. “It’s delicious.”
She took a sip from his cup, then handed it back with a grimace. “Are you crazy?”
“What?” He downed a large gulp.
“That’s demon brew.” Loved by demons and hated by most others in the Lore.
He swallowed loudly, nearly choking on the liquid. He must know that this drink left one steadily tipsy, until abrupt drunkenness hit like a sledgehammer.
“Why would they serve me demon brew?” he demanded.