Chapter 20
Argos
Theora looked as if she were going to faint. “What do you mean?”
“Earlier this morning,” said Argos, glancing to see where Apollo was before continuing, “I smelled Pyre and Apollo together. He was in her room. They’re clearly plotting something—”
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Theora scoffed, squirming out of his arms to glare up at him. “Your jealousy knows no bounds.”
Argos paused. Her harsh reaction made no sense. “I’m the one who’s here to protect you, Theora. I know what I smelled.”
“Apollo was in our room while I was waiting for you. He couldn’t have also been in Pyre’s.”
“Was he? The whole time?”
She glared at him, shaking her head. “I don’t have time for this. We’re already late—Cease, Argos!” she commanded, when he grabbed her arm.
He let go instantly, his hands trembling with the effort of fighting back. She was getting far too good at commanding him, but this time it felt more like a betrayal.
“Let me protect you,” he said, his voice low, desperate.
Theora bit her lip. Perhaps his emotion had gotten to her. “Protect me in there,” she said, and took his hand, leading him into the meeting room.
Just inside was a guard to greet them. “Forgiveness, Your Grace, but there was a complaint issued about your third at the negotiation table. It’s been requested that he sit in the viewing area instead.”
Argos felt his gut twist. The viewing bleachers were fifteen feet away from the table. He was fast, but that wasn’t close enough to stop Pyre if she chose to attack, not without Theora getting hurt. His wife…at the mercy of Vespulans.
The image of Izzi’s burned, mangled body flashed through his mind, until all he could see was Theora.
Never again. Never.
“Requested by whom?” Theora demanded.
“It was an anonymous request, Your Grace,” said the guard.
“What was the reason?”
The guard hesitated, glancing a bit timidly at Argos. “He’s a Warrior, ma’am.”
“And? This is clear discrimination.”
“Queen Theora,” said the judge, “I approved the request. He either joins the viewing party or waits outside. It’s your choice.”
Argos tugged on her hand before she could move, and when she looked up at him, he hoped beyond hope that she could read the pleading in his eyes.
We can’t stay here. Your friend is working with the enemy. They want you dead.
He saw Theora swallow. “It’s all right, Argos. Join the viewing party.”
Argos nearly grabbed her arm and dragged her out of there. But then…maybe a Warrior’s style of justice was what was required. If Pyre or Apollo did anything, it would give him valid cause to kill them, which would solve their immediate problems, at the very least.
And even if there wasn’t valid cause, he would kill someone, regardless, before he’d allow anyone to hurt Theora.
So, he obeyed, and went to the viewing area, with all his senses alert.
“Now.” The Judge Imperium opened her binder, glancing through it. “We’ve received the proper evidence regarding yesterday’s issue, and as far as Aranea’s involvement in the death of Vespula’s war commander is concerned, I have decided to rule in favor of Aranea. Not guilty. Any objections to that?”
He could hear the nervous breaths of more than just Theora—everyone seemed on edge. The stench of sweat covered by perfume permeated the air. And Pyre was watching him carefully from her place at the meeting table, as if still not convinced. As if still blaming him.
It was more than clear who had petitioned to get him away from the table.
Finally, Pyre turned back to the judge with the flat response of “Fine.”
It was only then that he saw it. Theora reached forward to pick up her glass of water and…something was wrong.
Argos leaped to his feet and rushed forward. Pyre, seeing him, leaped up, too, with a screech of her heavy chair. Theora had barely begun to turn her head when Argos suddenly snatched the glass from her hand, splashing water onto the table.
Theora gaped. “Argos, what are you—?”
All around there was a chorus of buzzing as the Lasi guards activated their shock rods, and Argos had an urge to kill them all—he’d never seen such slow reaction time to a potential attack.
Pyre’s maids had reacted more quickly, half of them rushing around their queen as if sacrificing their own bodies as shields.
Theora scrambled to her feet, holding out her hands to the guards. “He doesn’t mean any harm,” she told them. Then she turned to him, scowling as if he weren’t trying to save her life. “Argos, cease.”
The guards didn’t come closer, but they certainly weren’t standing down. But then, neither was Argos. He’d been shocked by those rods before. He’d felt worse.
Across the table, Pyre was alert and ready, as if for a fight. It didn’t matter that Pyre’s stingers couldn’t extend, there were plenty of weapons around if she wanted one. Her bare hands, for starters.
Now, that might be a fight Argo was interested in. But first things first.
“I told you,” growled Argos. “The proof is right here.”
“Queen Theora,” the judge warned. “What are these theatrics about?”
But Theora didn’t even have a chance to say anything before Argos placed his other palm on top of the glass’s rim and flipped it upside down, the rest of the water spilling out around his hand.
Theora backed away from the splash of water. “Argos!”
He tossed the glass away carelessly, to the outraged, terrified sounds of all in the room.
It shattered on the floor as he picked up what was left over in his hand and showed it to Theora.
A paper-thin, clear circle, no bigger than a small coin.
He squeezed the sides of the circle, and when he released it, dozens of clear spines lined the perimeter.
Theora adjusted her glasses on her nose and leaned closer to look at it. But Argos didn’t need a closer look to recognize what it was.
A weapon of the most underhanded kind.
A ringblitz.