The frown on Lord Otto’s face was amazing.
Lord Belshazzar grinned. “It definitely is, your majesty. But, unfortunately, we do have business to discuss.” His long, black hair fell over one of his shoulders as he turned his attention to the druid at the head of the table. “Master Niallan, your fourth Challenge begins after breakfast.”
The druid gestured to his partners. “Are they allowed to hear it this time? Or do I need to ask them to leave?”
Lord Belshazzar nodded. “They may stay, candidate, as her majesty may also remain. Queen Gwynnore will be the Monitor of Challenge today, as you were hers during her fourth Challenge.”
Master Niallan placed his napkin on the table and scooted his plate away. “I’m listening.”
“Your official fourth Challenge is to ask the Three one question we give you. You must return within twelve hours and tell us the answer. Do you understand?”
The druid’s jaw clenched. “No one asks them for a favor, my lord. There is a cost.”
Lord Belshazzar stared—he didn’t look away. “That is your Challenge. There is no other.”
The Three druids were old. And powerful.
Their prophecies, when given, were accurate.
Master Niallan’s nostrils flared. He gritted through his perfect white teeth, “What is the question I’m required to ask?”
“You must ask this word-for-word, candidate. Do not deviate in the slightest,” Lord Belshazzar stated simply. He rested back on his chair and crossed his arms. A bored black eyebrow lifted on his exquisite features. “How do we stop the coming war or, at least, find peace within it?”
My blink was slow. Shit.
Master Niallan cleared all expression from his face. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“A shit ton, apparently, because our council actually pays attention to the world around us.” That bored eyebrow didn’t lower. “Our peaceful lives are about to change if we can’t stop the wheels that are already turning. You should have listened to my warnings over the years.”
Master Niallan sat frozen in his chair. Thoughts ran rapidly inside his mind, his eyes lifting to the ceiling. His tone was quiet when he spoke. “You should have told me before this if it was this serious.”
“I have. Many times. You never listened.” Lord Belshazzar tossed his own napkin on the table with much irritation, the white linen flying halfway down the table. “You will never learn or grow up to be a true man who sacrifices himself for others. You are not always right, Nial. The world does not revolve around you. You’re still a selfish brat who doesn’t care what happens to the people around you. And now I’ll have to clean up your mess—once again.”
I swallowed and sat very still.
That was one hell of a personal put-down.
Master Niallan stood very slowly from his chair and placed his palms on the table, leaning over it. “If you think a true man is someone who kills an innocent woman, just to cover a debt owed, then you’re right. I will never be that. Thank the fucking Gods above.”
Lord Belshazzar snorted. “Your mother was about as innocent as a serial killer.”
Fire flashed inside his green eyes. “And your words are still bullshit. You did it to benefit yourself. Don’t act as if you did anyone a favor by murdering her.”
“You’re correct on one fact,” Lord Belshazzar stated calmly. “Her death didn’t benefit anyone. In the long run, I should have let the bitch live to save me this headache.”
In the span of a breath, I was out of my chair.
Not of my own making, either.
A sharp knife was at my throat, and a hard body was pressed up behind me, holding me in place. I held perfectly still inside Devin’s restraining grip, his arms glowing red in his druidic fury. The rest of the room’s occupants stood from their chairs very slowly.
Lord Belshazzar’s fangs glistened, but his blue eyes were as calm as I had ever seen them. “Release her now. Or I will kill you.” His smile was cruel. “And it’ll actually be lawful. Happy days.”
Master Niallan took a step toward us and raised his hands into the air. He spoke softly, “Devin, baby, let her go. Lord Belshazzar is an asshole, but it’s not worth it. You know he doesn’t make idle threats.” He waved his hands toward himself. “Come back over here with me.”
Devin hissed, “You’re just going to let him say that shit about your mother?” His right arm tightened around my stomach. “He obviously cares about this one. Let’s see if the cold-hearted bastard still spouts off when we take away someone he’ll actually miss.”
Master Niallan shook his head. “Don’t do this. Please.”
Devin stared into his lover’s eyes. “You have to take a stand against him at some point.”
“And this is not that time,” Master Niallan responded patiently. “Release her. Now.”
The knife didn’t budge from my throat.
Lord Cato growled, “Do as your ruler says!”
Warm blood rained down from above.
I was free.
I blinked in confusion, the surrounding silence immense, and turned around on slow feet. I wiped the blood off my eyelids and stared at the gore before me—a body literally pulverized and minced to a level of uncooked ground beef. White flecks were all that remained of bones. Shreds of clothing were barely seen. I shut my mouth and lifted my eyes to the Overlord standing in the middle of what was left of Devin.
Lord Belshazzar licked the blood off of his right thumb, his eyes glowing red. He stated coolly, “I warned him.” He tipped his blood-covered head to the side. “Your majesty, you should move behind me now.”
Shit. Fuck. Oh, good God.
I blurred with speed to move behind him.
The attack came before I got there.
Not that it mattered.
Lord Belshazzar held Ysander up in the air by his throat. With enough calm to soothe a child, he stated, “Master Niallan just lost one partner. I don’t think he can handle another today—maybe tomorrow, though.” The lord winked before he shoved and chucked the druid through the air.
Ysander landed on his feet. Barely.
Furious tears streamed down his face, and his unnatural fangs were bared. “I will kill you for that one day.”
Lord Belshazzar snorted. “You don’t listen very well, either.”
Master Niallan leaned heavily against the table on his left arm, with his head lowered and his right hand covering his eyes. His shoulders shook hard as he wept without a sound.
The Overlord’s uncompromising gaze landed on the druid. He explained coolly, “The twelve hours starts now, candidate. And I suggest you bring Queen Gwynnore back without a scratch on her, or I will make what happened here seem like a fucking beautiful birthday wish.”
No response came. Nothing at all.
Master Niallan continued to weep silently.
Lord Otto cleared his throat, and stated softly, “We’ll allow you ten extra minutes to collect yourself, candidate. You’ll be able to find the queen in our quarters when you’re ready to leave.”
I veered wide around “Devin” and followed the lords out of the room. Once we were far enough away, I allowed myself to smile. I whispered, “Well, that’s one down. We know who’s going tomorrow.”
The Overlords’ grins were pure evil.
It was breathtakingly stunning.
We’d all have pleasant dreams tonight.
Thank fuck the dolls were nowhere in sight.
*
“Where do the Three live?” I asked as we walked out of the castle. The winter sun was high in the sky at midday. I pulled my freshly washed hair up into a ponytail. “Do we have to leave the stronghold?”
Master Niallan still didn’t speak.
His eyes were bloodshot. His perfectly tan face was splotchy. His lush lips were swollen. He still wore the clothes from last night. His gait wavered left and right; he was hardly staying on his feet.
And he was mute.
I explained gently, “I understand you’re livid right now, and can barely see straight, but talking might keep your mind off of it.”