Chapter 12
Zara
“Explain.” Morgana's voice was sharp and furious, as it sliced through the air, her yellow eyes locked onto Lana. A purple gown flowed over her frame, and that black, glittering crown that had fallen from my head after we had gotten back from Nexia, was upon her head.
“It's not my fault, Mother,” Lana spat, but her glare shifted venomously to me. Lana looked like shit. Her arm was still healing from the burns she had gotten, the red welts raised and vicious. Her pants were torn down the back, and her white shirt hung loosely on her shoulders.
Morgana's gaze landed onto me and I met it unflinchingly.
“Lana nearly killed your son and was not where she said she would be posted,” I said defiantly, folding my arms and scowling back at Lana.
Lana’s jaw tightened, fury blazing in her expression, but Morgana’s returning gaze kept her in check. Morgana’s long, spindly fingers drummed against the metal arm of the golden throne, her nails making a clacking noise that echoed around us.
We waited at the bottom of the dais, bracing ourselves. There would be punishment. There always was. Morgana’s cool mask of disinterest faltered, and I could see the restrained fury blazing in her yellow gaze.
“I didn’t give any order for an attack tonight. Nor did I give you an order to go near my sons,” she said, her voice dripping with icy rage. Lana flinched, but she glared back at her mother just as steely.
“Son, not sons. And he wasn’t supposed to be there,” Lana bit out, her tone insolent. I tensed beside her, sensing the inevitable. My power stirred as it was pulled, and I felt myself calling it to shadow Morgana in front of Lana.
In a blink, Morgana stood before Lana, one hand clamped around her throat. Her nails dug into Lana’s skin until blood trickled down her neck, and Lana was choking. She clawed desperately at Morgana’s hand as her eyes began to glow with a faint light.
“You dare talk back to me, girl?” Morgana spat, her teeth bared and inches from Lana’s.
“You were the one who wasn’t supposed to be there.
” Morgan’s grip tightened, and blood continued to trickle, staining her white, tattered shirt.
“You don’t think I didn’t notice you weren’t here this morning, that you weren’t with your sister doing what I asked you to do.
” Lana held her tongue this time, and Morgana scowled.
“You act when and only when I tell you. Do you understand?”
Lana's eyes burned with defiance, her lips moving silently but no words escaped. Morgana was strangling her. Morgana pulled a dagger from her belt and plunged the serrated edge into Lana’s side, angled just shy of her heart.
Lana’s mouth opened in a strangled gasp, pain twisting her features, but still no sound came.
The hair on my neck stood up as I realized Morgana had stolen her breath on top of her crushing grasp. Morgana leaned close, her voice a deadly whisper. “Do. You. Understand?”
As if allowing her to take a breath, Lana gasped sucking in air. “Yes, Mother,” Lana managed, her voice a faint rasp, as she began to cough.
Morgana yanked the blade from her side, and Lana crumpled to the floor, blood pouring through her fingers. She had tried not to fall. I saw her straining, trying to stay on her feet, but she had and Morgana took notice.
Lana tried to stand, but her injuries and the exhaustion from using her magic kept her kneeling on the ground.
“Pathetic and useless,” Morgana chided, and my shoulders tightened as her gaze slid to me. She tilted her head, studying, and then in a blur, she was gripping my chin, her nails biting into my flesh, her eyes piercing mine.
“And you,” she crooned, voice dangerously soft. “Did you act to protect your sister? Or was it to protect him?” Her grip tightened, and I forced myself to breathe evenly, to suppress the wild panic rising in my chest.
She knew, knew I had sensed him somehow.
I didn’t even know how I knew where he was.
I had been heading back to Velra when something faint started to burn.
It was small, almost insignificant, but it was there, burning through the bond.
I thought it was Xavier, but that door was still sealed tightly through our connection.
I felt someone panic, felt that they were in danger.
Out of curiosity, I allowed my magic to follow that thread and I was surprised to find Jaxon, not Xavier, who had been in trouble.
I didn’t know what that meant and didn’t really care. I had gone mostly out of curiosity. But I definitely hadn’t expected Lana to be with him. Although I now finally understood where she had been all morning.
“Neither,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. Morgana’s eyes narrowed, lingering on the tattoo now marking my arm. Her lips curled in disgust.
“Both of you, get out.”
She released me with a shove, and I lowered my head to hide my surprise.
She was letting us go. A ripple of concern washed over me, like molten tar, and a shiver ran down my spine.
I hated feeling her emotions… they were always so cold, so hateful.
Her soul had been ripped and stitched with so many over the centuries before mine; I wasn’t sure she was really her anymore.
The cold, black, dark thing inside my chest twisted as if agreeing with me, and I staggered at the feeling, trying to push it down before she saw. I turned toward Lana and saw she was already limping toward the exit without me.
A loud cracking sounded from behind me, and I winced as I glanced over my shoulder.
Morgana’s body was morphing, large iridescent black feathered wings springing from her back.
She lifted into the air and watched as she pushed open a window near the top of the ballroom and disappeared into the night.
My shoulders slumped in relief at having her gone, and I stormed after Lana, who was only a few strides away from the exit.
“What were you thinking, Lana? Why were you even there?”
Lana spun to face me, blood still gushing from her side. The poison on Morgana’s dagger was preventing it from healing. She clutched her wound, and the red, scaly burns on her arm shimmered in the dim light.
“None of your business,” Lana spat, turning away from me again. Her palm slammed onto the door, swinging it wide.
Following on her heels, I watched as she stormed, or rather staggered, down the hall.
I wanted to argue, to force her to tell me what happened, where she had been all day, but I knew it would be useless.
Lana wouldn’t tell me anything. Why would she?
Glaring after her, I watched as she vanished around the corner.
Huffing in frustration, I went in the opposite direction, stopping in front of a weathered stone wall.
I pushed against it, and it slid back, revealing a narrow, concealed stairway.
I stepped out onto the worn stone. My hand grazed the icy wall of the spiraling stairway as I made my way down to the kitchens.
Cynthia and Bubba were already seated at the far table, hunched over a large plate of various meats and cheeses. Their heads turned my direction as I approached, and they both grinned in my direction. My anger dampened a fraction at seeing them.
“Well, if it isn’t Bubbles and his servant daughter, Cynthia.” Smirking towards them, I grabbed another carafe of wine off the kitchen counter.
Bubba glared, but I caught a flicker of amusement in his beady black eyes at the nickname we’d given him. Cynthia lit up at the sight of me, patting the bench beside her with a welcoming grin. I gave her a mock snarl, opting to sit next to Bubba instead.
It was warm down here, a fire blazing even though it was the height of summer. I looked over at the large hearth and saw Bertie asleep on her back, her front paws curled in the air. A deep purr rumbled from her chest.
Cynthia followed my gaze and raised a brow in my direction.
“Didn’t take you for the cat type,” she said, rolling her eyes. A cascade of fiery hair fell over her face as she leaned over the table and grabbed the carafe of wine from my hands.
I growled, but she only smirked as she proceeded to pour me a large glass, shoving it in my direction, before refilling her own.
“And how is our princess this evening?” Bubba drawled, turning to me and arching an eyebrow. “You haven't collapsed again, have you?
Cynthia looked up sharply, brows creasing as she looked between us. I waved her off with a flick of my hand.
“No, but I am exhausted.” Reaching across the table, I grabbed a handful of cheese and tossed a large cube into my mouth. Still chewing, I said a bit rudely, “Just cleaning up Lana’s mess as usual.”
Cynthia shifted, giving a halfhearted snort. Bubba sighed, shaking his head, and I picked up the glass of wine, nearly emptying it in one go.
“If you needed to teach her a lesson, I’m sure I could whip something up for you,” Bubba said with a wink. “Just say the word.” His eyes gleamed hungrily, and I laughed.
Bubba was a chef, but his culinary skills extended beyond the kitchen.
He was a master of potions and spells, much like Spencer had been, which made him invaluable to Morgana.
Before Morgana discovered him, he owned a shop in Ironfell, known not only for his medicinal and healing elixirs but also for his more unconventional concoctions.
Bubba offered standard remedies like contraceptives, beauty tonics, and hangover cures.
However, it was his more unusual brews that drew villagers and soldiers from across the kingdom to his doorstep.
Bubba had told me he created elixirs that reversed one's emotions, some that silenced the drinker for a considerable amount of time, even ones that had people speak only in riddles or song until they drank the antidote.
He once told me he even made one that compelled the drinker to speak only the truth.
Having seen some of these, I had to admit, his mixtures were entertaining.