could react, Quinn stood, slamming her hands down. She jumped up and kicked her legs through the opening between her arms and the table. Her body slid eight feet across the smooth surface, knocking the wooden figurines away as she slowed to a stop right in front of Dominicus.
Quinn reached out and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him from the chair with little effort.
“Of course I don’t fear him. I fear nothing. I am fear itself. Neiss’ chosen heir for the war to come. Something you’d do well to remember before reminding me of my untimely death like I’m a common skeev.” Quinn leaned forward, black smoke coming from her nostrils. She could feel Dominicus’ fear rising even as he tried desperately to control his reaction.
“Quinn—” Draeven started.
“She’s right,” Lazarus said, cutting him off. “You’ve made your thoughts quite clear, Dominicus, but the boy is staying. If Nero has recruited the Maji from N’skara, we’re going to need every advantage.” Quinn opened her hand and let Dominicus slip from her grasp. She lifted her eyebrow in challenge as he gasped for air, looking from Quinn to Lazarus and then Lorraine.
The stewardess met his flinty gaze with a hard one of her own.
He looked away first, and one corner of Quinn’s mouth curled up cruelly as she slid off the table and walked back around it to retake her seat.
“There’s something more we need to discuss than the future of the young soul eater,” Draeven said cautiously, his gait slowing. Quinn narrowed her eyes as she sensed nervousness waft from him like perfume.
“What?” Lazarus replied, his tone like ice. Bitter and cold.
“Imogen is dead,” the left-hand replied without emotion.
Lazarus’ eyes darkened. The bloodlion hissed at Draeven from the corner and the kuras let out a howl from wherever it was in the manor. Lazarus clenched his fists.
“The Queen of Ilvas died, and you didn’t think to tell me?” he asked softly. Quinn tilted her head. She sensed anger rising in him. Rage.
“I only found out about it moments before Quinn arrived yesterday,” Draeven said. His words were steady. But there was a tremor within him that she detected.
He was lying, but not outwardly.
She wondered if Lazarus noticed.
He loosed a breath, and his hands unclenched. She decided not. If he realized his left-hand was lying to him, she didn’t think he’d let the offense go by. After the favor Lord Sunshine paid her in keeping her return to the living a secret, Quinn didn’t breathe a word.
“How? When?” Lazarus said harshly, as if single syllables were all he could manage right now.
“Assassination one week ago. I believe it was the same night that Quinn and Thorne encountered a creature in Cisea,” Draeven said.
Lazarus went still. Utterly immovable for a moment.
“Did her heir survive?” he asked, softly but not kind. Not gentle. The souls were rallying. Rioting. The bloodlion paced furiously, narrowing its yellow cat eyes at everyone but Quinn.
“Axelle killed the assassin and was coronated yesterday. We were told to expect her in the coming week. She’s named Petra as her hand.”
“Good,” Lazarus said, relaxing a fraction. “I want scouts placed along the path between here and Tritol.”
“Already done,” Draeven said. “I’ve asked the northern lords to rally their bannermen and prepare for war. The southern ones have already gathered and are awaiting orders.”
“Keep them there for now. We need the Ilvan Queen here to make final arrangements. Thorne, will you be able to remain until then?”
“My wife has told me that I can’t come home until I bring her the head of the man who took our son,” Thorne said. “I’m afraid I’ll be imposing on your hospitality for a while yet, old friend.”
He smiled, but it was sad.
“She believes Nero is at fault?” Draeven asked.
“The creature spoke Trienian. Who else would send a demon that speaks that language?” Thorne asked.
“If blood magic is at play, I have no doubts it’s Nero. I’ll be questioning the creature shortly. Is there anything else that I haven’t been made aware of?” He looked at his vassals—Draeven, Dominicus, and Lorraine. Quinn sensed some broken trust there. But it was broken on both ends and would take time to repair. Time and action.
When none of them spoke, Lazarus dipped his head. “Very well. Draeven, begin combing our ranks for Maji soldiers. Man or woman. Offer them twice the pay if they’re willing to fight. Dominicus, start inquiring with your spies in Triene. Lorraine, follow up with Bangratas and Jibreal to see what happened there.”