Treachery Queen (The Callistra Chronicles #1)

EIGHT

Chapter Eight

With a burst of noise from within, they took their cue and walked through the main doors, into a soaring room lit with dozens of broken chandeliers. Pasiphae suspected the shattered glass was an aesthetic choice more so than actual damage.

There had to be hundreds of fae in this hall. They all seemed to group in fours too, and on the arm of some within each group was a human with a collar.

While Pasiphae was certain that Psyche, Charlize, and Bel-Arh were guards, the other fae in the room that circled the prominent ones in their groups obviously were not. Judging by their attire, they had to be a tier down on the hierarchy.

"Walk, Sapphire."

Seth's muttered prompt took a while to register. Pasiphae forced herself to focus and followed his steps down a long aisle that had formed from the parted crowd.

There was an eery resemblance to the initiation ritual, but Pasiphae pushed away all thought of it. If she started thinking about Eo, she would kill herself worrying about what was going on back there. Her only job now was to find evidence of her innocence so she could return as soon as possible.

She would prove that she had nothing to do with the fae by... associating with the fae.

Her plan was less foolproof than she had initially thought.

"You're stalling."

Pasiphae let out a testy exhale from between the gaps of her teeth.

"I'm just a slow walker," she replied, lower than a whisper, "especially when Unseelies are staring at me with murderous glints in their eyes."

Something sticky squished beneath her shoe. When Pasiphae lifted her foot, the smudge had already been smeared, blending in with the dark floor. It looked to be blood.

"Keep your gaze averted," Seth whispered, tugging their linked arms to keep moving. "No eye contact, particularly with the queen, unless she addresses you."

With her head inclined towards Seth and her chin tilted down on instruction, Pasiphae could just make out the balconies at the edge of the hall, extending along an angle until they met at the end, where an iron throne rested directly underneath.

Silver shoes. Silver wings.

Suddenly, Pasiphae wanted to run. What was she doing? She could find answers at home. She could have travelled across Medeis for a cure. She could be doing anything other than playing with her life inside the Unseelie Court with a faery, practically advertising herself in front of the monarch of the country.

The queen stood, a long, gnarled staff clutched in her left fist. Five guards followed her movement immediately, stamping their feet to signify their jolt into attention as Morgana walked the three steep steps down and came to their level.

Pasiphae reminded herself to stare at the floor. She had been taught her entire life that the fae were her enemy, that being in the same room as a faery was a death sentence. So why didn't she run? Why didn't she leave right this instance before her intent to ruin the Unseelie Court went haywire?

Pasiphae stopped. 

Where had that thought about the Unseelie Court come from? She couldn't care less about the Courts...

Underneath her draping cloak, Pasiphae touched a hand to her stomach, feeling the slightest twist. It was nowhere near the devastation she felt earlier, but still the same empty vacuum. Deaths, the Unseelie Queen was using magic on them, so subtly that Pasiphae hadn't even immediately noticed.