To the Shadowsinger | Azriel

Chapter 8: Treason

The cats out of the bag, Raisa smiled as she looked to the High Lord of the Night Court. Rhysand. She shouldn't be surprised he knew who she was, she was a spitting image of her mother, whom he fought against in The War.

She let herself look to Azriel, but to her disappointment, his face reflected no interest in the reveal of her identity. Maybe she did like it, that he was hard to read or impress. She liked a challenge.

"High Lord Rhysand," she rested her chin on her folded hands and gave him one of her dazzling smiles. Usually it got her what she wanted, but the High Lord only gave her a calculating look as he stalked over to the seat across from her and sat down. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Is it?" He gave a mischievous smile that made her heart skip a beat. Anyone with eyes could see he was beautiful. It was a different kind of beauty when compared to Azriel, but it reminded her of the glorious night sky in his court. "I would have thought that crawling out of your silks and jews would have proven difficult for you. Yet, you appear in my court. To what do I owe the pleasure, Queen Raisa Suna?"

"I'm sightseeing," she teased but before the words could fully slip out of her mouth, Azriel was in her face gripping her by the chin.

"You will not play games with him," Azriel's voice rumbled through her.

She held his gaze, staring into his hazel eyes with a warm look of a lover. Her goal was to make him uncomfortable, at least that's what she told herself as her eyes dropped to his lips.

At the sound of the High Lord's low laugh, Azriel dropped her face and went back to the kitchen.

"I see you've ruffled my spymaster's feathers," said the High Lord, looking between the two with amusement.

"Ruffled his shadows seems more fitting," she watched the shadowsinger shake his head.

The High Lord laughed, but she saw right through it. She released a sigh and let the easygoing mask slip from her face. It was time to get serious. She wasn't there to sip tea with the High Lord and braid each other's hair. Friendship wasn't the goal, they both knew it.

Tension filled the room as the High Lord and Queen of Vallahan studied each other across the table. He was the clever type, she noted, and hopefully smart enough to try to keep the peace. She wouldn't hesitate to fight back if it came to it, though she hoped it didn't.

But they were enemies after all. Only a hundred years had passed since her husband had allied with the King of Hybern in a war against Prythian. News that Montrese, a territory to Vallahan's southwest, was planning an attack against Vallahan had Raisa's husband pulling his troops from Hybern's war.

Raisa had suspected something off about the news though. Montrese and Vallahan had been allies for centuries, though the relationship had its rocky points, she didn't believe they would want a war with Vallahan nor Rask.

The whole thing had been a damned mess and by the time the three countries sorted it out, the war between Hybern and Prythian had been over. Prythian had won.

Raisa's husband had been livid to find out that Montrese rose troops against them because they had heard that Vallahan had intended to attack. They all looked like idiots, someone had duped them. Looking across the table now, Raisa wondered if it had been the High Lord of the Night Court.

"I wish to speak with your wife," said Raisa.

The smile on his face transformed into something more bitter. "I wish to know why you're here before you go anywhere near my mate."

The sheer protectiveness in his voice made her blink. So that's what it's like for your husband to care for you. She couldn't imagine her own husband sitting up straighter at the mention of Raisa. She knew he forgot about her most days.

For once, Raisa decided to have some trust. It twisted her stomach, but she needed allies. She needed help. Doing this all by herself was not only stressful and deadly, but proving to be very difficult.

One of her biggest fears with this plan was trusting the wrong person. All it would take was one mention of her name and her head would be under the Royal executioner's blade before she could even get on her knees and beg her husband.

Treason. That's what she was doing. She may have been born with royal blood, but at the end of the day, it was her husband that was King. The counsel did not listen to her, her husband did not listen to her, the Lords did not listen to her, not even the damned military.

She was a Queen of nothing. Of no one.

But the High Lord of the Night Court didn't know that. So she sat like a queen, stiff in her chair, and told him, "I plan to take down the Vallahan monarchy. I'm not asking for your help, all I'm asking for is the Mirror of Ouroboros."

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