Chapter Forty-Nine
Amalthea
The trouble with being an oracle was that one got rather unused to being surprised.
Eka had shown Amalthea none of this. Yes, her visions overall had been… spottier. But something like this surely would’ve warranted a warning.
Thea didn’t waste time with disarming small talk as Quinn led her to the royal wing.
The card under her glove burned. But that wasn’t the move, not yet.
First she had to understand what had gone wrong, and if she might have another way to fix it that wouldn’t forfeit her only chance at getting the relic.
More incriminating was the map. Thea would have to set that up in flames before she let them find it.
The queen’s entry chamber was nearly as large as the throne room. But it was frigid, even with the enchanted cloak Thea had tied around her. Quinn sent her forward, then stood to block the doors behind them.
As if Thea could outrun two vampires.
Queen Ophelia sat at her dressing table, chair set out half-askew so she could face the door.
Her dressing robe was finer than most gowns Thea owned.
The white trimmed gossamer fanned out on the ground around her.
Under any other circumstance, Thea might have asked for a reference to the queen’s tailor.
But not now, with the queen not even looking at her.
Instead, between two fingers, she held a slip of paper.
A sky-blue messenger wyvern was curled around her shoulders, resting.
If it was resting, then it must have only just arrived. To come and wake a vampire during the day, the message must have been urgent. Dread crept through her, though Thea kept an easy, neutral expression. She could only guess what it said.
Thea was left to stand in silence at the door, waiting to be addressed. Such power plays were usually beneath the queen. It might mean she was in a distracted mood.
Or it might mean she was very, very angry and working for restraint.
“I’m so glad Quinn was able to find you, Lady Amalthea.”
Definitely the latter. The queen’s words on the surface were friendly, but she had murder in her voice.
“Your consort said you wished to speak with me, Your Majesty.” The words came out with a puff of white air.
“I did. Rather, I have just one simple question for you, and I’m afraid it couldn’t wait.”
“Of course.” Thea forced her heartbeat to steady. It was hard not to fidget in the cold, her fingers clenching and unclenching.
Ophelia set the paper down, her red eyes flaring as she worked to grip the oracle’s mind. Thea had only seconds to try to raise a defense, but her magic was ill-suited to block a thrall.
“Did Raphael kill the necromancer? Yes, or no?”