Treachery Queen (The Callistra Chronicles #1)

SEVENTEEN

Chapter Seventeen

Pasiphae hadn't slept a wink.

She gave up on the endeavour sometime in the middle of the night, and crept into the bathroom for the remaining hours. Her muscles cramped in places where she didn't even know she had muscles as she watched the necklace float in a bowl of water, but no connection cleared up and Circe didn't appear.

Whatever had happened on Medeis would remain yet a mystery, because Seth remained adamant that the comm he received was absolutely nothing and Pasiphae didn't exactly have an abundance of sources.

It seemed too much of a stretch to hope that the humans had a clue, but she had to try.

"I heard the strangest thing yesterday," she said lowly in the kitchens the next morning, her eyes fixed on the plate she was scrubbing.

The consort next to her tilted his head curiously and made an inquisitive noise.

Assuming the gesture meant for her to continue, Pasiphae whispered, "Those that mingle with His Majesty said there were tremors in the air."

Her eyes darted over and then back to her plate before it could be noticed.

"Disasters," Pasiphae continued in a hush. "Panic."

The consort shook his head. "Nonsense," he said resolutely. "My faery was not worried at all."

Pasiphae let the words sink in. "Is that so?"

He nodded. "She says those who are lower will try anything to rise in power. They will use chaos."

"I wonder though," Pasiphae replied, turning to face the consort. Iridescent black eyes stared back at her. "What is it that causes this talk? What is there to fear?"

The dark eyes went foggy in confusion. He scratched his chin, leaving soap suds before promptly wiping them away. "There is nothing to fear in Khotadi."

Pasiphae sighed internally. She jutted her head towards the three high nobles who had walked in a few minutes earlier, sensing a dead end in the previous conversation. "Who are they?"

The human consort raised his eyes at the three, then looked away quickly. A dazed sort of worship crossed his expression.

"They're just making sure everything is in working order," he answered. "Investors."

"Of course," Pasiphae said, dropping the cloth in her hand. "How'd I forget?"

The fae, two male and one female by the looks of their attire, were slowly making their way over to the dish-washing bench. Pasiphae bent over the work, keeping her face angled and her ears perked.

"I should think all is at functional order," one of the male fae was saying. He picked at the edge of his waist coat, frowning at the grime on his hands. "We should be checking the energy reactors instead of the kitchens."

"We're getting there, Aethel," the other male replied.

Every muscle along Pasiphae's spine perked up. She stretched to get a better look. So this was Aethel Norrenwall.

"I'm certain this is the last working area," Aethel said, looking over his nose at his two companions. "Naeyrs? Thoughts?"

The faery girl turned abruptly, her blunt hair swishing across her cheeks. While the two others wore thin clothing that allowed their wings to slip through and curl behind them, hers would have been tucked tightly underneath the dark dress she wore, long-sleeved and floor-length.

Naeyrs pursed her lips. "Nothing of particular interest."

She wandered off in her own then, her slow steps echoing on the tiled floor.