more exaggerated now . . . I’m more myself than I’ve ever been.”
“You won’t change, though. You won’t age or grow or bear children, even if you change your mind in a thousand years. Your only options will be this or a true death.”
Quinn shrugged, not all that bothered. “The moon tonic Lorraine made was disgusting. I’m happy to not have to take it anymore, and whether it’s now or in a thousand years, I’ll never be any less cruel. If anything, time tends to jade people . . . I’m fine by that. And if one day I’m not, then I’ll end it.”
His hand tightened around her waist. “Sometimes I forget how honest you are, despite your wickedness. It’s both refreshing and disconcerting.”
“It’s a product of not knowing true fear,” Quinn said. “I can’t feel what you and others do. I’m incapable of it, and therefore I’m incapable of all things associated with it. If I were to die a true death tomorrow, I wouldn’t be pleased, but I’d be dead. It’s not as if I’d exist in some capacity afterwards. The concept of death holds very little meaning to me after all I’ve seen.”
“Speaking of death,” Lazarus said, releasing the arm around her waist to move to stand beside her. “I need you to not kill the Maji you’re meant to be training.”
“I’d never try to kill them,” Quinn scoffed.
“Yes, well, how about you try not to,” he said pointedly, punctuating his statement with a lift of a masculine eyebrow. Quinn snorted.
“They will be fine,” she said, waving him off as she turned for the balcony. “And if they aren’t, they weren’t fit for your army to begin with.”
“Quinn,” Lazarus groaned. Not in pleasure, to her annoyance.
“All will be fine, Lazarus. I will handle the Maji, Draeven will handle the skeevs. Axe will listen to Petra for how to go about deploying the Ilvan armada. Thorne’s warriors are attempting to form a barricade through the mountain passage. It’s all going according to plan.”
She stepped outside, and for any other woman, what she was wearing would be considered scandalous. Given she was just as happy naked as she was in leathers, the sheer negligee at least covered her more intimate areas, even if it left just as much on display.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Lazarus said.
“Nero will not stand a chance, and once word comes back on what’s happening in Jibreal and Bangratas, we can try to bring them into the fold. With six countries united, this war will end before it begins.”
Lazarus didn’t say anything, and his lack of reply made her turn her face and narrow her eyes. “Unless you’re still keeping secrets and have reason to believe he can overpower us.”
“No,” he sighed. “I just know him. He wouldn’t be moving for war if he weren’t certain he could win. He clearly knows of my alliances, which means he also knows that one of his abominations failed to kill Thorne. Yet he still marches. Something isn’t adding up.”
Quinn looked up at the half-moon. It covered the forests surrounding Shallowyn in shadows and night. The firedrakes lit up the sky as they circled overhead but kept their distance from each other.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him,” she said eventually.
“A person like him . . . they only change for the worse. He’s like us, and he believes I wronged him. I underestimated Amelia and paid for it dearly. I won’t do the same here.”
Quinn turned and leaned back against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest.
“How did you get the scar over your eye?” she asked him.
“You mean how did he?” he replied.
Quinn shrugged. “They’re the same scar. It’s likely the same story.”
“Not always,” Lazarus said. “Perspective makes a great deal of difference. I imagine Nero fancies himself the hero of his own story.”
“Is he?” Quinn asked.
“No more than you or me,” came his reply.
Quinn left the balcony, evening musings in the form of deep conversations calling to her instead. The double doors shut behind her, guided by black tendrils. She took a seat in one of the wingback chairs and gestured for Lazarus to do the same.
“Then tell me,” she said. “How did you get it?”
Lazarus sighed deeply before taking the chair across from her. She might have poured him a drink under other circumstances, but he’d all but banned spirits from being in any of the rooms he frequented. Her king might fear very little, but he feared his own loss