Saphaia Black was a problem.
Arra knew how to deal with problems. All her life she’d been the elder sister, the one to cope with any situation—when Beatrix had found a bird’s broken body, when Beatrix’s heart had been broken by a young noble, when the money had run dry and their family had to maintain the appearance of wealth, it had always been her that the family had turned to.
Although her beauty was famed, Arra prided her mind above all things. It was, after all, that and determination that had got her to where she had longed to be—the throne of Lunguard.
She glanced up from her dressing table, to where her docile maid hovered near the door. “You may go, Penny.”
The maid dipped in a curtsey, her skirts rustling as she let herself out the door. To dream, perhaps, of a crossbow and blood, of staring out a tower window, aiming down the sights of a crossbow.
Penny would never remember in her waking moments that it had been she who had attempted murder, not as long as she wore the bracelets. The Linuete charms were too strong to allow the truth to pierce the girl’s mind. Worse than Morash bindings that merely kept a person captive, Linuete bracelets forced the wearer into unwavering servitude, a body devoid of its own will. It had its uses, and Penny had been one such use.
Arra rose from her dressing table chair and walked the length of her bedchamber, the white silk she’d chosen swishing against her legs.
Sometimes, when the hour passed into that unknown time between night and morning, she lay awake and wondered how it had come to this.
And she would see her hand, see the blade she held as she plunged it into her beloved baby sister. In those moments she knew she was damned, but had she not acted, it would have been the entire kingdom instead of just her.
Arra turned and paced in the other direction. She had adored Bea, despite what had happened. Bea had been everything light and good, the one her parents praised, the girl the boys loved to bring home to their families. Arra was the girl they met by the lake under cover of night.
When their family’s coffers had bled dry, it had been fortuitous that the Six had been set to take place within a few short months. Arra had explained her plan to win the competition, how she would bring pride to their family again. How she would win her parents’ love.
Her parents had insisted on Bea entering, too. Not that her sister had wanted the crown, but she’d been a good girl, raised to follow orders. She’d entered alongside Arra.
And still, Arra had watched over her sister. Anyone who hurt Bea found themselves violently ill one way or another by Arra’s hands, and they’d both risen through the ranks of the competition. She’d had pride in her baby sister for accomplishing so much. Even the crowd adored Bea, willed her to win.
Arra paused before heading to her closet. She hunkered down and drew out a carved walnut box from the ruthlessly organized interior. Opening the lid, she gazed at the pictures and trinkets inside.
She drew out one photograph and smoothed a thumb over Bea’s pretty face. If only Bea had lost the Six none of this would have happened. Bea would be by Arra’s side, helping her rule. Instead she was buried beside their grief-stricken parents in the family crypt.
Arra’d lost.
Bea had won.
The city had been thrilled, their hearts lost to the golden girl.
Arra had been cast to the shadows once again, watching her baby sister receive attention, praise, power.
Still, she might have walked away if Bea hadn’t begged her to stay. The memory of that sweet, hopeful smile caused Arra’s stomach to twist.
Bea had doomed herself with those words. If Arra had gone, travelled, she might have refused the temptation that had begun to whisper to her in the dead of night, the murmurs that asked why Arra couldn’t be queen.
What if…? the whispers said. What if there was an accident? What if Bea…fell?
Arra lay down the photograph and touched the parchment marked with a wasp insignia buried at the bottom of the box. The Circle’s whispers were ones she had lost the strength to ignore, had been the final blow to the stronghold around her thirst for the power to effect change. They’d offered her weapons, strategies, visions of her sitting on the throne. They’d offered her the dream.
But the reality was her sister’s blood, thick and hot on her hands.
Arra slammed the lid down on the box, shutting out her feelings. It was never productive to gaze into the past. She’d made her choices and enjoyed the life she had earned. If nightmares plagued her around this time of year, if she sometimes saw bloodstains on her hands or her sister’s ghost out of the corner of her eye, it was a small price to pay for the safety of the realm. She was the only one able to see the danger beyond the barrier. The only one suited for the crown, and she intended to keep it, tradition be damned.
She’d already taken steps to that end. Of all the competitors she’d been aware of before the trials began, only Rhia Jayden had given her any concern. Her elemental ability made her a wild card, even if she was a poor fighter. People had underestimated Bea as well, a mistake Arra would not make. Now it seemed there were two Elementals to be concerned about.
If only her maid had been a better shot, Arra could be drinking champagne, but the forced obedience of the Linuete charms could only do so much, and they couldn’t bestow skill. Still, a great strategist never failed, they adapted. There was still time for success.
With that settled, there was only one other thing that she craved.
Nathe Amergin.
A shudder of desire snaked through her body. She hid the box once again behind gowns and trinkets, and shut the closet door. Wandering across to the dressing table, she slid a hand down her waist and imagined Nathe’s long, elegant fingers following the same path.
She had always known he’d be a good mate for her. Noble, elegant, loyal, and more beautiful than any man had a right to be. That long, lean, muscular body with the determined stride and enough strength to block the whispers that continued to plague her.
When she had Nathe in her bed, by her side, then she would be content. Then she would no longer feel this echoing sense of hollowness.
But he would not yield.
She sat again at her dressing table and stared into the mirror. Even though she was queen, even though she was beautiful, even though she had all but seduced him where he stood, he still refused to give in. The game had been exciting, but with this new entrant, this Black female, it had begun to tire.
Arra was sharp. She’d seen how the competitor and her enforcer looked at each other, seen how Nathe’s eyes lingered whenever Saphaia looked away. He was falling for her.
It was all wrong. He was supposed to be in love with Arra. She could not lose something she craved to another woman.
She banged a fist into the mahogany table. She was the queen. She was the most beautiful, most powerful, most desired woman in the realm. She couldn’t lose again.
Breath skidded from her as she clenched her hands. So she wouldn’t.
With a deep breath, Arra slid out the dressing table’s drawer and removed the latest innovation The Circle had sent with their agent. The white powder in the bottle shivered up the neck as Arra tilted it.
Saphaia Black was a problem.
But with any luck she wouldn’t see the end of the third trial.
* * * * *
Vander nestled deeper into Sapphy’s sheets, crossing one booted foot over the other. He cocked his head, hazel eyes squinting. “Christ, Saph. You gone prematurely grey?”
“It’s blue, jackass.” Sapphy crossed over and smacked his boots. “Off.”
With a heavy sigh, Vander sat up. The light hit the side of his face, revealing a pattern of bruises linked in purples and yellows.
“Gods, boy, what happened to you?” Sapphy grazed one with a finger. “You’re uglier than usual.”
“Ha ha.” Vander pushed to his feet, dislodging her hand. “Some human got lucky.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Can I say the same for you, getting back so late to your tent?” He whistled.
Sapphy ignored that, putting two and two together. “Ana called, didn’t she?”
“No, I decided to travel the Shahgate Pass, fight an overzealous guard, ride God knows how many miles to get to the city, all because I missed your beautiful face.” He shrugged. “Or I did before I knew you’d gone grey.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Sapphy let out a laugh and squeezed him in a hug. “Gods, I cannot believe I missed someone calling me that.”
“Easy.” Vander eased back with a pained expression. “Got lucky with the ribs, too.”
“Wimp.” Still she crossed to the chest that sat at the bottom of her bed and opened the lid. Reaching in, she located the tub of antibac. It wasn’t as good as a patchwork injection, since he was human, but it’d do some good.
He caught it without a blink. “Bless you and all your future children.”
He shrugged out of his tattered linen shirt, revealing a mass of interlocking yellow bruising that made Sapphy wince.
“Seriously,” she said. “What happened?”
“You think it’s easy to get into this place?” He slapped on the antibac without flinching. “You are in another realm.”
He looked away to his pack that sat by the flap of her tent. “You mind if I stay here? Can’t wander around this late at night without drawing questions.”
“You’re on the floor.”
“You’d make an injured man sleep on a hard floor?”
“Don’t be a girl. The carpet’s plenty soft.”
His grin was a taste of home, bringing memories of snarky banter between them at HQ. A flutter of homesickness grabbed her. “How’s Trick?”
“Pissed as usual. He’d have come, but there’s the whole ‘two suns’ thing which is bad for his vamp complexion, and Faer…well, you know the demon. Whither thou vampire goest…”
Sapphy chewed on her bottom lip “So you came alone. Ana must really be freaked.”
“There was a lot of swearing, yes.” Vander grinned. “And apparently you’re mooning over some ’crat?”
Sapphy walked to her closet and pulled out a large man’s shirt to sleep in.
Vander hooted at the absence of reply. “Oh, my Lord. Can it be free-and-easy Sapphy has been hooked?”
Sapphy spun on her heel. “No man can hook me.”
Vander was reclining on the bed, one leg crossed over the other. His strawberry-blond hair had grown out, making him look twenty. But the exaggerated mooning expression he sported made him look all of fifteen.
“Shut up.” She went behind the dressing screen and stripped out of the gown. “So that’s why you’re here—to rag me about Nathe?”
“Nah, that’s just a bonus.” His voice was idle. “Might soak up some local color. I think I saw a cow on my ride up. Swear to God, thought they were a myth. Big bastards, aren’t they? Wonder if you could ride them—it’d make one hell of a statement.”
Sapphy couldn’t help the smile and yanked the shirt over her head. She stepped around the screen, nudging a shoulder against the wooden partition. “Where do you think steak comes from, idiot?”
“The poor?”
“Ha ha. Seriously, you’re here to make jokes about cows?”
“And to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Which is pretty much your usual.” Vander indicated his sword-belt that rested next to his pack, complete with greatsword. Not as finely crafted as her own—hers being forged by Troy—it was tarnished with age, but wicked sharp. And went everywhere with its owner like some sick security blanket.
Sapphy inched one eyebrow up. “So you’ll stab me if I have sex?”
“I’ll applaud you. Hell, I’ll buy him a cow-steak dinner. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten any and let me tell you, HQ can feel the tension. We were all going to chip in to hire you a stripper before you—” He ducked the dagger she hurled at him. It cut into the soft cloth of the tent with an audible hiss. “Now, now.”
“Ana thinks I need a keeper?” Sapphy couldn’t decide if that was sweet or if it pissed her off. “Hypocrite. Like she’d ever accept help.”
Vander beamed and crossed his arms behind his head as he settled back on her pillows. “You know it’s good to have backup in your corner, need it or no.”
“Think you’re smart now?”
“Smarter than you.”
Sapphy rolled her eyes and plonked down on the chest, curling one leg up beneath her. “The queen is a bitch, yes. A murderer, yes. But I can handle her.”
“Ana says she’s shown interest in you.”
Sapphy waved that away. “That’s because of Nathe. She wants him; she doesn’t want him to want me.” She hitched up a shoulder. “I can handle it.”
“And when you go all gooey over him, I’ll be there to watch your back.” Vander sobered suddenly. “Seriously, Saph, if she’s as bad as you think, what’s to stop her from trying to get you out of the way?”
“She’s got bigger fish to fry. Like the whole kingdom.”
Vander stared at her.
“Fine, fine. Line up with all my other protectors. Gods. First Troy, then Nathe, then Tomas, now you. What, do I have ‘helpless female’ branded over my butt?” Sulky, she plopped onto the bed and kicked Vander’s boot for the hell of it. “Off.”
He ignored her. “Who’re Tomas and Troy?”
“Nathe’s bestie and an old friend of mine. Boots off or I’ll cut them from your feet.”
Vander’s boots hit the floor. “A childhood friend. Interesting.”
Sapphy stabbed a finger at him. “You’re not meeting anyone. You’re going to remain my dirty little secret.”
“You won’t see me.”
“Yeah, see, that doesn’t give me comfort.”
He only smiled. “Got anything to eat?”