The Wild Hunt (Downworlder Series, #1)

Chapter Seventeen: Coming to Terms

The tension in the room was unbearable, the only thing that kept me standing was Ajax at my back. I was pressed against him, leaning for support as the two queens faced each other. There were no words being spoken but there was enough being said in the silence to have me begging to run. Ajax massaged my neck, leaning forward toward my ear, "It okay. No one hurt." His voice deep and gravely. He was trying to support me the only way he knew how but it didn't do much to quell the fear I felt. My beast was just as antsy as I was, turning up her teeth at everyone in the room in our shared distress.

Octavia stood tall in front of her desk, the twins standing behind her like indestructible towers. Madame Lao had her hands stuffed into the sleeves of hanbok, face completely serene. She looked around as if unimpressed with Octavia's trappings of wealth. Her rather unphased attitude towards Octavia seemed to piss her off greatly. I wondered if these two queens had ever truly met before or simply heard about each other in passing.

Octavia narrowed her eyes, tongue gliding over her teeth as she prepared to break the silence, "Why are you here?" I noticed the way her gaze shifted to me for a moment. She knew why the Madame was there even without the question but she was going to make a thing of it. I could practically feel her teeth scraping at my skin in agitation.

The images of how she had dealt with Jonesy flickered through my mind like a bad movie. I couldn't help the shiver that moved through me, causing Ajax to fix his hand tightly on my hip. His thumb drew lazy circles, that did nothing to calm me down. Octavia would find a way to punish me for all the trouble I was causing her, even if it was inadvertently. Once I could run around freely again I would be made an example of. No bruises meant very tired feet.

"You take my girl." Madam Lao kept her calm demeanor. I tensed at her words, wanting shrink as small as I could. The dominance in the room spiked at the purposeful jab the Madam had made at the Queen in her own throne room.

Octavia rolled her neck, bones popping softly. She was preparing to strike if necessary and I didn't want to witness such a fight, "Last I checked. My brand was on her, not yours." Her words were hissed through clenched teeth. The twins remained motionless behind her but I could tell by the way their eye swept across the room they were agitated, ready to back up their queen in an instant.

Madam Lao clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth, like she did when one of the girls did or said something silly, "You brand as if they cattle on ranch. No minds to think, no mouths to speak." She looked around the room lazily, her expression deceptively demure.

"Excuse me?" Octavia's voice dropped to a low growl as she gripped the desk she was leaning against in a position of pretend ease. That jab had hit the mark and it was a surprisingly sore one from the looks of it. I hunched my shoulders slightly and Madame Lao lazily turned her head to once again look at Octavia.

"It why I make more money than you. I give my girls voice, give them mind to think." I could see that the Madame was playing with her, poking at the overly emotional beast beneath her skin. She knew that Octavia cared about her wealth, her empire. It was all she had amassed during her life, something I was certain she had fought every inch for. To have someone deride it, to insult the means of it, well that was a heavy poke from a very sharp knife.

Octavia huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "And you live in a beat up little hovel in a tiny slice of neutral territory that I could take over in less than an hour."

Madame Lao snapped her fan open and waved it softly as if the air was stuffy. She gave a smile that made the features of her face sharper, "I like see you try. My boys like my hovel. My girls like my hovel. Sutton like my hovel." We had all witnessed first hand what type of loyalty she had in her neutral territory. Benjin shifted uncomfortably. He had been taken down and from what I had seen, no squatters or ferals had been seriously harmed. Skill did little against sheer numbers and Benjin knew it.