To the Shadowsinger | Azriel

Chapter 9: Dead King

Azriel finally decided: she's crazy. It all made sense. She was going to take down her own monarchy? What kind of nonsense was that?

He couldn't help but ogle at her from the shadows. He could now see a Queen, it took him a second, but everything about her now screamed that she was above him. Her magic was ancient and powerful. Her posture was court trained. And she met Rhys' gaze without a hint of submission.

"And why would you want to do that?" Rhys went along with the crazy queen's idea.

Her face was cold. Every hint of the bright eyed female was long gone. "My husband, despite lacking royal blood, has full control of Vallahan. His ideals remain the same as the ones you fought against in The War. Faeries face no consequences for the enslavement and torture of humans and with the wall no longer dividing our worlds-"

Rhys shot up, his palms slamming down on the table, cutting her off. "You're telling me, Vallahan is enslaving and torturing humans. That violates the Treaty-"

"Do not interrupt me, High Lord," She hissed through her teeth.

Azriel placed a hand on Truthteller as the two stared each other down. He relaxed when Rhys took a deep breath and sat back down. "My apologies, continue."

"I'm aware Vallahan violates the Treaty, but my husband's word overrules mine and he made sure long ago that my image is to remain one of a naive and vain queen who couldn't give a damn about politics." She leaned forward, her voice was low. "That is precisely why no one will suspect I am the one who ruined the king and council."

From what Azriel had heard of the Queen of Vallahan, she was an airhead, barely left the castle, kept to herself, and self obsessed. It was the King, Caius, who had fought as a general in the War and climbed the political ladder after the previous Queen had died. He reminded Azriel of Jurian, manipulative but a powerful warrior. Too bad he fought on the wrong side of the war.

"You wish to do this with the Ouroboros?" Rhys spoke what Azriel was thinking.

The Queen nodded. Tension faded from the room as Rhys tilted his head with pity for her and her plan. Perhaps she was as naive as everyone believed. To think she could take over the monarchy with a mirror was foolishly hopeful. Not only would she have to deal with getting the mirror without going mad from her own reflection, but there was the challenge of getting the king and lords to look into it. Another challenge would be disposing of them after they went mad.

Rhys gave a long sigh, "Your plan has its flaws, but let's say you do succeed? The king looks into the mirror and goes mad, what if he still holds power and wishes to break the peace between those who wish for peace with the humans and those who wish to enslave them? Vallahan is still my enemy, do you truly believe I would assist in turning their king mad?"

The Queen simply smiled, "A mad king is a dead king."

Even though she was practically a stranger, Azriel could read the threat in her eyes. He could feel her sense of eagerness to kill the king, her husband. He knew of spouses having conflicting ideals, but he thought the king must have done something big for the hatred that pulsed through the Queen at the mention of him. Or perhaps hundreds of years by his side had worn her out.

"Steal the mirror, bring it back to Vallahan, have those that support your husband look into the mirror, and then kill them. That's your plan?" Rhys asked. It still sounded ridiculous to Azriel.

"Your mate may claim Ouroboros, but my grandfather made it ten thousand years ago. After his imprisonment, it's been lost in the Night Court."

Rhys gave her an amused smirk, "So as his last living descendent, you believe it to be yours?"

A darkness appeared on the Queen's face. She looked between Rhys and Azriel as if she knew something they didn't. "My grandfather, who I believe you both have met, told me to claim it as my own. He's actually been here looking for it for quite some time."

A cold chill went through Azriel's spine. He prided himself in knowing what happened in the Night Court, it was his responsibility, but to know that someone at least ten thousand years old, that had also been imprisoned, was free and looking for a powerful artifact made him uneasy. He couldn't stand the idea of something or someone sneaking under his nose.

She must be lying. That's all she had done since she arrived, lie and wear a mask.

Azriel walked out of the shadows, he didn't stand down as her green eyes and smirk shifted to him. He let a shadow trail up her ankle and slither to the pulse at her wrist, its immediate warmth quickened his own heartbeat. Her pulse was racing, but her face didn't give it away. She just kept watching him with an amused and questioning gaze.

Then her eyes fell to the wrist with his shadow. She ripped her hand away and shook it as if she touched something nasty. "Were you feeling me?" She laughed as she looked back up at Azriel. "It tickled."

Azriel's face went blank as he looked for words, but he was caught off guard. Rhys was hiding a smile behind a fist and that only made him even more flustered. He took a steading breath and looked back to the Queen, he hid his embarrassment with a scowl and a harsh voice, "I was feeling your pulse to see if you were lying. Who is this grandfather you speak of?"

He had thought of The Prison, the place where dangerous and ancient beings are imprisoned. There had only been one to escape and they kept her as Second in Command. Her grandfather couldn't have come from there, but if he had, they were in trouble.

"Ask me again more nicely and I might tell you," her green eyes twinkled, and the mask of a queen slipped as she returned to the female she had been when they first met.

Azriel's skin prickled. If his High Lord wasn't there, he might have even argued with her. He didn't give a damn if she was a Queen, she was a pain in his ass, but he could tell Rhys was trying to understand her motives. Maybe even work out an alliance to avoid war.

Rhys was taking the diplomatic route while Azriel felt like slamming his fist into something. He was even half tempted to fly to Vallahan and handle the king himself. All Rhys would have to do was say the words.

Azriel swallowed his pride, "Who is your grandfather?"

Neither he nor Rhys were expecting the Queen's answer. For over a hundred years, they had searched for the monster they let out to fight in their war. The monster that had been imprisoned at the pit of a library for longer than they've been alive. The monster that had given even Cassian nightmares.

"He goes by the name of Bryaxis."

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