“Maybe there’s something your parents haven’t told you?” Morven stared at Glythia.

“No!” He slammed his wide palms on the table, raising a small tremor that sent a fork and a knife flying. “When my father died, his last words were ‘may you find grace before the Sovereign like your ancestors did.’”

Clythia didn’t like the conclusion that was forming in her mind, and the words turned into sandpaper in her mouth. “Which means there is another Sovereign here, and the angel was attacking him because he knows more about the Sovereign, and whoever is in their place didn’t want them to be found out.”

“But he doesn’t know what the Sovereign looks like. He’s oblivious like us,” Modyr said. “Isn’t that right?” He turned to Glythia.

“Yes, I don’t know what the Sovereign looks like, but—” Glythia trailed off, eyes fixating on the rice on his plate.

“But what?” Kay’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and Glythia rubbed his forehead.

“If I contacted my ancestors in the astral world, they could help.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this sooner then?” Clythia demanded.

When they were trying to find ways of understanding the Sovereign so that they could get back at the Shadow? When they were considering contacting the Shadow in Modyr’s palace, why would he remain quiet?

Annoying dog.

“It’s not something I’m gifted with, to communicate with the great beyond. It’s a lost ability.” He glared at her. “Don’t look at me like that. I am being sincere. But now I want that angel to pay for what he did to my pack, and I will avenge their deaths by finding why his Sovereign targeted me.”

“You are no different from us after all,” Clythia shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t pull your no-matter-what-benevolent card for us until it affected your flock—sorry, I meant pack.” She gave him a dry smile.

His chin bulged, but he didn’t say anything.

“Your plan of revenge is underwhelming,” Kay’s voice cut through the awkward, thick air, as he wiped his mouth with a kerchief. “You are not going to torture the angel?”

Just when Clythia thought the werewolf wouldn’t answer, he said, “He isn’t the culprit. It’s the man that sent him I’m after, and I will make him pay.”

“Or the woman,” Afia said, tipping a chalice down her throat.

“You are quite a mouthful for a servant.” Kay stared at Afia and beamed at her, indicating he was rather admiring her with a tad of flirtation in his tone rather than condescension.

“Perhaps I had too much wine.” Her golden eyes lingered on him a slight longer than necessary before she looked away.

Morven’s face was expressionless—or rather, he was pretending to be, as his eyes darted from the human king to her servant.

Clythia finished her meal in silence until the Prime swapped seats with Vina so that he could discuss something with the vampire king. From the way the Lady of Hypercas strode over to her, she seemed ready for a drilling conversation which possibly involved a lot of blaming her.

“Why don’t you put Afia in her place?” Vina whispered. “You give her too much freedom.”

“I didn’t give her anything, except a chance to paint and record like the scholars,” Clythia sighed.

“Morven is smitten by her. He looks at her like a wounded puppy. He could be a vampire, with his movement rigid and all, but I swear to you, he eyes her weirdly.” Vina shook her head.

“Do you fancy Morven?” Clythia raised a brow at the Lady of Hypercas, whose cheeks were turning a slight shade of pink.

“What? No, I do not. That is against our law, but my queen, you are a fast sleeper and I’m not,” Vina said, lowering her voice further, hopefully out of earshot of the vampire and werewolf. “And they were dallying around, thinking no one saw them when we were in the cave. Doing Ilyana knows what and coming back to sleep very late.”

Clythia was taken aback, processing the information. She didn’t observe her servants or guards carefully, one of the reasons why she fell into Tiyus’ trap. It was her weakness; not even her favorite servant could pull a lingering curiosity in her. Besides, worrying about Tiyus and his twisted plan had dulled her to her surroundings further.

“I have warned her she would be executed if she were fool enough to start a relationship with him,” Clythia said calmly.

“You, my queen, are very ignorant,” Vina said.

“And you, Lady of Hypercas, think that calling me your queen—rare as it may be—will make me ignore the fact that you just insulted me?” Clythia was amused.

“I am being honest with you. And I don’t trust your spy one bit.”

“Casarda?”

“Look at her.”

Casarda was sitting at Kay’s side, at ease and laughing at one of his flirtatious jests, which Clythia had never had the chance to listen to before. The human king knew how to make a goddess like Hypaxia blush or Casarda giggle like a small girl, although the latter was a whore and would beam at anyone if she was going to get something out of them.

“She’s a spy. I have told her to do exactly that,” Clythia pointed at the Lady of Spies, “to extract valuable information.”

Vina’s eyes narrowed. “Has she done that?”

Casarda hadn’t. True, it had only been a few days since they began their journey to Stormia, though it felt like a lifetime. However, with all her mingling with the werewolves and the humans, batting her eyes even at Modyr’s guards, she hadn’t come up with any important information. Intentional information.

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Vina finished her suspicions aloud. “Don’t you find it suspicious that Casarda knew about angels and we got hunted by one of them in Stormia? How did she know about them? Which race had that information?”

Clythia remained silent. Vina had a point. How did Casarda know? She claimed they were mythical beings from the Old World and that one of the other races was talking about them. So, one of the other races wasn’t thrown off guard like they were.

“I tell you, there is something fishy going on.” Vina slumped back in her seat, twirling her slender fingers on her cup lazily.

Eventually, the buzz of conversation died out, and they dispersed to the inn’s rooms. Clythia’s companions took three rooms: the wizards in one room and the witches in the other two. As the queen, she took the bed while the others were sprawled on bunks around her.

A slight knock sounded on the door. One servant opened it and balked. Clythia perked up. “Who is it?”

“It’s King Morven, my queen.”

Clythia let out a sigh and headed to the door. “Really? Can’t you curb your lust for one night? And Afia is not here; she’s in the other room.” She didn’t even lower her voice.

“I am not here for Afia. I am here for you,” Morven gritted his teeth.

“Sorry, I don’t fancy a corpse.” Clythia attempted to close the door, but a swift motion of his booted leg hindered her action.

"I don't fancy a hag either." Morven said, quirking her lips on one side. “You know why I’m here.”

Clythia rolled her eyes and stepped out, closing the door behind her. One of her guards started following from a distance, but she dismissed him. They continued walking in silence until they were out of the inn.

That sandy desert was nowhere to be seen. They were in a town with low thatched-roof buildings and larger ones, the path arrayed with cobblestones and lit with lampposts.

“This is so much like our culture and world, it’s disturbing." Clythia said.

“Care to elaborate on your threat?” Morven’s voice was cold, his hands in his pockets.

“I am not threatening you. I am only warning you.”

“About what?”

“You know what. Don’t make me repeat it and make it worse for both of us. I have already crossed a line by warning you.”

“You have crossed a line.” A voice came, flipping her gut and drying her mouth. A coldness wrapping around her throat. Her hands reached for it and found the cool metal that marked her slavery to the Evil. Morven’s eyes bulged as he looked at her neck and behind her back before landing on her in horror. “But you have also asked for my help, so I will let involving the vampire in your attempt to overthrow my plan slide with a small punishment.”

“Kneel,” Tiyus commanded.

Every fiber in her body fought against it, but her will was tethering, and it didn’t take long before her knees slumped to the floor, eyes lowered. Being in chains before a rival king and kneeling... what was more embarrassing than that?

“Why do you have to make a scene here?” Clythia was shaking. Tiyus was still behind her but dangerously close, leather and dew wading through her senses.

“The more you surrender, the more you are mine, my queen.” The Evil’s voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down her spine. “If you attempt to touch my queen or harm her, I will add more things to make you suffer, Morven.”

“You have no power over me,” the vampire said. “Your threat is empty.”

A low chuckle rumbled, and Clythia had to stifle a moan.

“But I have power over the most powerful witch in Zyvern,” Tiyus said. “And I have power that could ruin your heart forever.”

A slight kiss brushed over Clythia’s neck, arcing her back and setting her mouth free to let out a moan. The headiness was wrapping around her senses stronger than before. If Tiyus asked her to strip naked and dance like an idiot, she would.

“You can take your disgusting queen elsewhere and enjoy her. I don’t fucking care,” Morven said, a pang of pain lancing through Clythia. “I am not interested in her.”

“I know,” Tiyus said. “I am just showing you the handsome face behind your upcoming disaster and punishing my queen for not obeying properly. If you tattle about this, vampire...”

Tiyus didn’t need to finish his sentence; the threat hung in the air as he disappeared, dragging Clythia back to her senses.

She scrambled to her feet, her hands found the metal on her neck, and an intense dread lurched in her gut. “No, no. No fucking way.” Her hands were scrambling to unclasp the metal, but it didn’t budge. The chains weren’t there; only the metal sat on her like one of her prized chokers.

“You are the whore of an Evil. Just like I feared, you handed all that power to that shit.” The vampire gritted his teeth.

Clythia wasn’t in a position to defend herself. Hence, she began returning to her room, bringing the collar of her nightgown around her neck. Then, thinking better of it, she pulled a shawl that wasn’t transparent out of her ring and veiled the metal beneath it.

“You are not fucking going anywhere.” Morven blocked her path. With a twitch of her finger, he was darted upward and tossed like a rock somewhere far behind her.

Morven had every right to be angered by her. It surely looked like she was the Evil’s weapon, and he knew them firsthand. The hatred pooling from his words screamed personal experience, and she was certain he loathed her for it. It didn’t matter that she had warned him to the best of her abilities. The person she opened up to first about this was now her enemy.

Clythia turned to look at the grunting Morven and said in a lower voice, just audible enough for a vampire, “You are right. I am a powerful whore living for an Evil’s whim. But thanks for making it a lot easier when I destroy you.”

The next day, the animosity between Clythia and Morven was abundantly clear to those who noticed. Kay caught on to their avoidance and the scowls they threw at each other with amused interest.

“You and Morven’s friendship intrigues me,” Kay said to her while she was lost in thought, leaning against a lamppost in the afternoon.

“We are not friends,” Clythia said dismissively.

“Then you’re froes?”

“A what?” Clythia gave him a look, but the human king didn’t seem to mind.

“You know, like friends and foes—froes.”

Clythia snorted. “Is that what you humans like to do, mash up words like your own personal meal and cook a disaster?”

His lip quirked at one side. “Life is too short to not be out of line all the time.”

“You live half of our lifespan,” Clythia said. “I say you live long enough to not act childish.”

“Half?” Kay barked out a laugh, tipping his head back, the sun glinting off his brown hair. “If only death were as generous as your assumptions.”

Clythia opened her mouth, half-forgetting Tiyus’ visit and his punishment around her neck, which was concealed beneath a shawl. “You don’t live two hundred years?”

Something like disappointment flickered across Kay’s face, undoubtedly because of her ignorance, and rightfully so. Clythia never cared about the other races, and of humans, she didn’t care to know more than the fact that they were weak and it was because of the other races’ generosity that they had their own kingdom with a king ‘equal’ to her and the other five.

“No,” Kay said. “We are lucky if we pass the age of a hundred naturally. Actually, we are not lucky to live more than seventy unless we like the idea of our shit and piss being wiped by our grandchildren.”

“Damn, I’m very old then,” Clythia muttered, awed.

“How old are you?” Kay asked.

“Old enough to be your great-grandmother,” Clythia said. “Wait, you said that was the case for you naturally. What does that mean?”

“Why, if we get witches like the Clutsweeds involved, of course, we can lengthen our lifesp—”

Kay didn’t finish as Clythia bellowed, “The Clutsweeds? You have contacts with the Clutsweeds? That’s outlawed. How could you do this? Why am I hearing about it just now?”

“Relax,” Kay raised his palm. “I have no hand in it. My ancestors contacted them long ago. They gave us something that could help with our lifespans, and we have tools to replenish it.”

A knot was tying in her gut. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you never bothered to ask me before.” Kay tilted his chin at her.

“What’s with you and Afia?” Clythia narrowed her eyes. “Are you playing some kind of game? Trying to butter me up by telling me information so I can turn a blind eye when you two decide to fuck each other for all eternity?”

With every word spewing out of her mouth, Kay balked, and his expression went grim. “We are not doing anything.”

That didn’t sound true.

“You know the law, King of Zalax.” Clythia tossed him a dry smile that carried menace she used to cower many during her reign. “Play at your own risk.”