Just thinking about his husky tone as he'd uttered these shocking things made her face and chest flush-
"You appear overtired," Morgana said with a critical eye. "This won't do. You must look your best when you're presented this eve."
"I believe you mean displayed."
Morgana's three Inferi froze in their unpacking, amazed that Bettina would contradict the great queen.
Ire flashed in Morgana's fathomless gaze. "Need I remind you that you agreed to this tournament?"
"Only because I didn't understand what it would really be like. You made it sound like a noble affair filled with romance and pageantry." Bettina had pictured hot suitors from allying demonarchies battling fiercely for the right to call her wife.
"I will forgive this insolence, chalking up your behavior to nerves." Morgana's eyes glittered with warning, silvery pinpoints dotting her dark irises-the rattle before a bite.
Immediately backpedaling, Bettina said, "Nerves, yes, of course." She could feel Morgana's power brimming. Which made her wonder, Why did I ever vow not to tell her about Caspion's predicament? Her godmother could eliminate the vampire assassin with a flick of her hand.
The tiff forgotten, Morgana directed her Inferi to get to work on Bettina. "Hair, dress, makeup, jewelry, mask." Clap clap. "We want the princess looking elaborate! But not necessarily ostentatious. Though she could never upstage me, I don't want her to appear to be trying to."
Bettina sighed and cooperated, dutifully raising her arms, closing her eyes, puckering her lips. Resisting Morgana was impossible-and for others, deadly.
Raum had once asked Bettina, "How can you even tell your godmother loves you?"
"One, because Morgana keeps visiting me in a realm she hates. Two, because I keep surviving the visits. . . ."
Within minutes, Bettina had been transformed. She wore a cropped, sleeveless top of gold mesh, with slightly thicker mesh to cover her br**sts. Her skirt matched, slit up the sides, to show off her jeweled garters and silky thigh-highs.
Her mask was made of bold jade-green feathers that jutted up like small wings well past her head. Her thick hair had been wrapped around her diadem, holding it in place.
"Well?" Bettina asked.
"You are pensive, and it affects your looks. You're not exactly a great beauty anyway. Mouth too wide, cheekbones too sharp. You appear to your best advantage when you smile."
Last night in the dark, her smile had made the vampire's breath hitch. Why do I keep thinking about him? He's not returning.
Then Morgana's words sank in. "Do I really need to appear to my best advantage?" Bettina dared to ask. "The competitors aren't here for me." Morgana opened her mouth to argue, so Bettina said, "Oh, there might be some that are attracted to me. But at best, I'm an . . . an afterthought."
"Afterthought? Do you actually care what they're thinking whether before or after?" She tsked, examining her costume claws. "You should be thanking your godparents for this opportunity. You told us that you wanted to feel protected. To Raum's archaic way of thinking, that means a protector. In any case, this is for your own good. Or have you forgotten that night?"
"As if I ever could." As if you'd ever let me. The humiliation of the court, her cowardly screams echoing from this spire as they'd set her bones . . .
"Do you remember what you told me when we were tucking your ribs back into your torso like little babes under a blanket?"
Bettina nearly retched. "I-I remember." She'd promised them anything.
"Everyone in the kingdom heard you shrieking like a banshee," she continued. "Then I arrived, soothing your woes."
Morgana had scratched her with a toxin-dipped metal claw, and the world had gone blessedly black. . . .
Before an attack could seize her, Bettina hastened outside to the balcony, breathing deeply of the twilight air. She peered upward, some part of her expecting to feel the whoosh of wings at any moment. If she couldn't trust her barrier spell . . .
Just when she'd begun backing off the balcony, Morgana joined her. "Still afraid they'll come here for you?"
"Occasionally." Always.
"That's not rational. There's never been a Vrekener in Abaddon. Why would they chase you down?"
"Vrekeners never abandon their hunt." Yes, she'd once been a mouse beneath a hawk's talon, and she'd escaped. But she knew the hawk would never rest until it had recaptured its prey.
"How could they even reach this plane?" Morgana asked. "They can't trace or create portals. They can't simply fly really, really hard."
I know this.
"There were rumors that the elders of the Vrekener clan vowed to end the killings after Eleara," Morgana said in an inscrutable tone. "Didn't you tell me that your attackers were an offshoot group, acting outside of orders?"
Bettina gazed down at her shaking hands. "I believed so." Though Vrekeners condemned spirits, the four who'd targeted her had been drunken-and their violence had seemed . . . personal. We've been watching you, Princess. "I-I can't be sure."
"Perhaps if Raum can actually eliminate them, you'd feel safer."
For Bettina's willing participation in the tournament, her godparents had made her promises. Raum would send a cadre of demons out to hunt down and secretly assassinate all of Bettina's winged attackers-as yet, those Vrekeners remained untouchable. Morgana would locate and return Bettina's power to her. The sorceress remained coy as to whether she'd retrieved it or not.
"I'll feel safer once I get my power back." Bettina had once been a Queen-not yet a royal one-but a mystical one. A Queen was someone who had better mastery over an element or force than anyone else. She'd been the Queen of Hearts-
"It didn't help you the first time."
"No. But I would learn to control it better, would practice more. Have you located it?"
Morgana quirked a mysterious blond brow. "Don't worry-you'll have it before you wed."
Bettina sighed, turning her attention to the rain forest beyond the city. Deep within those giant moon-raker trees, closeted in vines, was her folly-what used to be her favorite place in Rune. But since the attack, she'd avoided any place with trees.
It was almost worse that she could always see the forest from here, forever out of reach.
She trained her gaze far below. Thousands of demons and other Loreans had flocked to the streets, tossing confetti over the procession of combatants.
Brightly colored pavilions and tents circled Abaddon's famed Iron Ring-an enormous stadium with a caged arena. A grandstand overlooked all. Bold standards hung limp in the still, humid city.
Bettina surveyed the procession, shuddering at many of the "suitors." The pus demon wore rubber boots and gloves to catch the filth bubbling from his skin. A pair of Cerunnos slithered along the cobblestone streets, leaving sidewinder trails in the confetti. A crocodilae shifter went shirtless, the better to show off his speckled, platelike skin.
"Look at the males below." This is actually happening. She'd wanted to feel safe; those entrants were terrifying. "They're repulsive."
"Not all of them. I dated a coil of Cerunnos once-they're not as bad as one would think." Morgana tapped her claw-tipped finger against her bottom lip. "Regrettably, no Sorceri are expected to enter. Even assured of my involvement, they all think this contest will be fixed. Or that it will come down to simple brute strength."
If the Lykae were the physically strongest breed of Lorean, the Sorceri were among the weakest.
Morgana frowned, then said, "Of course, I could force the issue-if I thought a champion of ours might actually survive."
As the Queen of the Sorceri-both royal and mystical-she had absolute mastery over her subjects and all their individual powers. She could order any member of their species to do anything, and they would be compelled to obey. Or she could simply steal their powers.
Chapter 12
Morgana wasn't a beloved ruler, but she was content to be a dreaded one. "Alas, poisons are frowned upon in these matchups." The Sorceri were famed toxinians. They didn't necessarily make them, but they certainly utilized them.
"I don't suppose you've finally stolen the power of foresight and have seen a good ending for this."
"Foresight?" Morgana scoffed. "Never. Oracles go soft in the head. I'll take my blind alleys and my sanity any day."
"Surely you're going to steer the course of this thing?"
"I cannot, by thought, action, or deed, affect the outcome of this tournament. But I did negotiate with Raum so that you would have some influence over the competition," Morgana said. "There will be a lady's choice round. Consider it a safety clause. Don't ask what that entails, because I'll say nothing more on the subject."
Bettina's question died on her lips. I hate it when she does that. "Are there any contestants here that you would accept as your husband?" she asked innocently.
"For gold's sake, Bettina, you know I'll never wed." She flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. "I'm surprised that demonic wastrel you call friend hasn't entered. Raum's certainly for that."
Really? Wait, why does everyone keep calling Cas a wastrel? Did no one see past the devil-may-care skirt chaser? He'd nabbed his first bounty at fourteen and had been risking his life to collect more ever since. Cas was determined to earn respect in this kingdom, one death demon at a time.
Oh, where was he? Bettina would have thought he'd be here to see her off. She didn't spy him below either.
Maybe he'd fled Rune to escape Daciano? Would she never see Caspion again? Then she swallowed. Or had the vampire already returned?
Surely Daciano wouldn't have come back until night was full upon them.
"You told me that you would give anything to feel safe again," Morgana said. "These competitors are feared champions."
"Many of them are dangers to me!"
"Whoever wins is who you're supposed to have," Morgana said blithely.
Bettina glared. "The Sorceri don't believe in fate."
"I will clarify: Whoever wins will be the strongest, most cunning, most powerful competitor. Potentially all of the above. That is who you will have for your husband."
One problem. A Cerunno could be all those things.
Morgana sighed. "If you don't approve of your new husband-and really, Bettina, when did you get so persnickety?-make yourself a widow. Bettina the Black Widow! Then you'll rule all by yourself with no irksome male to influence you. Just as I do."
Bettina's lips parted. Part of her suspected Morgana wanted a monster for her ward, just so Bettina would have to kill him. Morgana wanted to toughen her up-after all, Eleara's daughter had come crying all the way home. A wedding-night execution would be just the thing!
Bettina would certainly lose her reputation as a pushover.
"And what about the Abaddonae?" Bettina asked her. "Why would they tolerate a Cerunno as king?"
"Tolerate?" Morgana's many braids drifted around her head as if an invisible wind blew, and the gold pieces on her body thrummed-her anger manifested. "You're about to be their queen. They'll tolerate whatever you choose to give them. Always remember that." Smoothing her hair, inhaling for calm, she said, "Besides, you know these demons worship strength-might maketh right, and all that. They'll accept whoever wins."
A knock sounded on the door. Bettina stepped back inside her sitting room.
"Oh. How surprising," Morgana sneered, following her in. "Raum is right on time."
Her godfather strode in, clad in his ceremonial armor, his dark horns polished. His breastplate bowed out to cover his barrel chest. His black beard hung nearly to his breastbone and was neatly braided.
Whereas Morgana had scarcely cleared the doorway's width with her headdress, Raum barely cleared its seven-foot height. Even the vampire hadn't been quite so tall.
Stop thinking about him!
"How's m'girl?" Raum gave her a wink. "I know what you're thinking. Raum is handsome as the devil, eh?"
Bettina smiled fondly at him. Though her father had been kind, some part of him had always seemed . . . distant. Raum had doted on her, making up the lack. But he wasn't perfect; he'd been raised in a feudal age, and he treated Bettina like a damsel-who was continually in distress. He saw her as a fragile doll among the demons, a rare hothouse flower.
Still, he'd been flexible in some regards-right up until she'd been attacked.
After directing an expected scowl at Morgana, Raum extended his arm to Bettina. "You look lovely. Are you ready to descend?" With obvious reluctance, he offered his other arm to Morgana. "Shall I trace the two of you?"
"Only if you want me to make merry with your intestines," Morgana replied sweetly. She never allowed herself to be traced, always traveling via a portal spell.
Bettina didn't particularly care for it either. Unfortunately, her demon half hadn't enabled her to teleport on her own, so she always felt like a failure whenever someone so easily did it.
Could nothing about me be demonic?
"But you may escort us." Morgana took Raum's arm, "accidentally" smacking him with her sharp headdress.
Dual-purpose pieces at work . . .
The three rode the elevator-manned by ogres-down to the ground floor, then started toward the Iron Ring at the outer edge of the town, near the great marsh.
With each step, the tension between her guardians grew and her own mood deteriorated even more.
I feel like a sacrifice-one shove away from a volcano opening. And still she felt more dread for Cas than for herself. Think of other things. . . .
All the fanfare distracted her to a degree. The tournament was a formal occasion, with Abaddonae donning their best clothing. Many male demons had pierced their horns with gold loops, while females rouged their much smaller horns.
Older demons clacked around in antique armor, the pieces squeaking from disuse, but the details and designs were more ornate than on modern armor. Bettina studied the engravings and raised filigrees with interest.