Chapter 6
AMRI
I think I’m going to vibrate out of my skin with the need to pace, but I can’t, not in this solarium.
If I move about too much, I risk disturbing the lush tropical leaves draped over and across the meandering brick path.
I’ve been standing next to a gigantic Bird of Paradise for twenty minutes, and Leonora still hasn’t shown up.
As I watch, Circe flicks a section of her long black braids over her shoulder.
Her bare foot bounces lightly where her legs are crossed under the small garden table.
I smirk, knowing this is a power-play by Leonora, and I wonder how long Circe will play along before she gets angry enough to leave. I would have left ten minutes ago.
“We would never have come in the first place because brunch with Leonora sounds like the worst way to spend a morning … unless we could slip some poison into her mimosa.”
I smirk at my beast, saying, “That wouldn’t kill her.”
“Maybe not, but I’d pay good money to watch Leonora heave her breakfast all over her expensive clothes.”
I chuckle at her with a roll of my eyes as I slip my hand in my pocket, sliding the stone over to a new spot.
Being this close to Circe, it’s burning almost as hot as it did in Leonora’s dressing room.
I’m concerned that once the Leo goddess arrives, adding her power to Circe’s, the stone might actually burst into flames.
Circe shifts on her cushioned seat, her delicate hand reaching for the teacup before her. She lifts it to her nose, sniffs, tsks , then waves a hand over the tea before taking a sip.
Intrigued, I raise my nose, sniffing the air. The smell of earth and flora overpowers my senses before I’m able to decipher the slight change. Where her tea smelled of lemongrass and pine before—a strong and slightly unpleasant scent—it now carries notes of cinnamon, black tea, cardamom, and clove.
As she sets the teacup back on its saucer, the porcelain clinks overly loud in the silent room.
Circe looks to her left, narrowing her eyes at a hunter standing guard at the open glass doors to the solarium.
The hunter is standing so still, I wonder if they are holding their breath.
The sorceress continues to stare, and a bead of sweat rolls down the side of the hunter’s face, traversing the edge of their ocelot mask.
With eyes still narrowed, Circe tilts her head and asks, “Do you not find those masks stifling?” To their credit, the hunter doesn’t move or say a word, but Circe clicks her tongue, waving a hand. “Well, I do. I don’t like not being able to see the faces of those around me. Take it off.”
I smile, leaning forward slightly, wondering if the hunter will obey or risk offending Leonora’s guest. The hunter doesn’t move; they don’t even acknowledge they heard Circe.
Bold. Maybe this hunter doesn’t know who Circe is, but I do, and I know the wrath of the sorceress is something to avoid …
and if you asked Odysseus or Picus, they would have agreed .
The sorceress’ power builds, and the concealment stone gets so hot, I look down to make sure it isn’t burning a hole through my pants. Circe uncrosses then recrosses her legs, the slit of her skirt draping open well past mid-thigh, exposing the dark skin of her toned leg.
The hair along my beast’s neck stands on end, and her claws extend as she hisses. “I can’t stand here any longer. Either get us away from this cloying power or let me do something.”
“We wait. Either Circe gets fed up and leaves, or Leonora finally shows up and we find out what’s going on.”
My wolverine’s scruff doesn’t go down as she says, “And if this does end up just being a stupid brunch date?”
I smile at her. “Then we’ll know that Leonora and Circe are at least pretending to be friendly, and that warrants closer monitoring, don’t you think?”
She huffs inside my head, finally depoofing. “Yeah. Okay.”
During my little talk with my beast, Circe’s power dimmed to a soft thrumming of magic, its presence more like the gentle lap of waves compared to the electric sting it was a moment before.
She leans forward just slightly, licking her lips before saying, “You are being most rude. I can’t imagine Leonora?—”
“You can’t imagine me what, Circe?” Leonora sweeps into the room, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle to be found on her clothes.
Circe leans back in her chair, taking a slow sip of her tea before answering. “I don’t see the appeal of those masks. They are unnerving. It makes it too easy for them to hide their feelings.”
Leonora descends onto the second chair like a feather floating from the sky to grace the earth with its soft purity. But the way her power presses in, heavy and oppressive, makes her entrance feel more like a freight train than a feather.
She waves a hand in nonchalance. “We all wear masks, dear. I can see their eyes. That’s all I need.”
Circe peers at Leonora over the rim of her teacup, both women holding their silence for the moment before Circe smirks. “And I’m sure the bond you have with all your Leos helps you keep a read on them.”
Leonora smirks back as another masked shifter stops at the threshold.
The shifter bows their head over a covered tray in their hands.
They do not wear the black garb of the hunters but are instead dressed in what looks like white linen.
I know Leonora knows the shifter is there, but she makes no move to acknowledge them.
The silence stretches, and Circe holds her small smile as she taps her nail on the edge of her saucer.
I roll my eyes. These two are playing games with each other, and I can’t help but wonder who will be caught up as collateral when they decide to make a move.
Without even glancing at the shifter in the doorway, Leonora finally waves a bored hand before dropping it to her lap, her long fingers resting on her thigh. She really is quite beautiful.
As the shifter with the tray comes into the room, moving on silent, cat-like feet, I can’t stop the sudden images that parade through my mind … of the beautiful Leo goddess and Malik. The two must make a stunning pair.
A soft shwing pulls my attention out of my head and back to the room as the shifter swiftly removes the steel cloche from the tray.
The scent of meat—red and raw—fills the air, and saliva pools in my mouth, forcing me to swallow down my hunger.
There, on two spotless white plates sit perfect cuts of beef with bloody juice creeping out from under the raw filets.
I smile as the shifter—with head still bowed—gracefully sets a plate in front of Leonora first, then Circe.
I watch the sorceress to see if she reacts to the slight, and while her face remains serene with that soft smile, I notice her bare toes curl.
My beast smirks, flicking her ears. “These two are circling each other, scenting the air, waiting. I wonder who will draw first blood?”
I wonder indeed.
The shifter proceeds to pass out smaller plates with lightly dressed salads, topped with poached eggs, before bowing even deeper.
They ask if either of the women require anything else.
Leonora waves them off, again without looking at them, and the shifter leaves the room as quickly as they can without actually breaking into a run.
As Circe picks up her fork and delicately stabs at her greens, Leonora leans back in her chair, ignoring her food as she asks, “So, Circe, I must say I was surprised when you contacted me. Pleased, of course, but surprised.”
Wait. Circe arranged this meeting?
Leonora goes on, “How are things on your island? It’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to catch up. Tell me what’s new in your life.”
Circe chews, her pink lips closed with a pretty smile.
How can some people make even chewing look elegant?
The sorceress takes her time. She swallows then takes a sip of her sparkling champagne sans orange juice; the snap of bubbles popping makes my beast’s ears twitch.
The floral scent barely registers over the smell of the raw meat.
As Circe sets her glass back on the table, she says, “Oh, you know. When you are an immortal, there are long periods of time that bleed into infinity. One day is much the same as the last. I have my animal companions and the occasional traveler, but you know I enjoy my solitude. You’d find it all very boring, I’m sure. ”
Leonora laughs, the sound maybe a bit too forced, as she says, “Ah yes. You do like to keep your head in the sand.”
Circe doesn’t react. I’m impressed. The sorceress continues to work on her salad, while Leonora still hasn’t even looked at her plate.
My wolverine scoffs, her impatience gnawing at me. “Will these two quit dancing around each other and just get to the fucking point?”
I chuckle at her while planting my feet a little more firmly so I don’t fidget and disturb the plant life around me.
Circe slowly chews on her salad as Leonora stares at her. It’s unnerving, and I don’t know how Circe can sit there and appear so calm. Leonora smiles, and I think it’s supposed to look friendly, but it ends up feeling sly. As Circe reaches for her glass, Leonora asks, “And how is your family?”
Circe doesn’t falter, gracefully sweeping the champagne flute off the table to bring it to her lips.
She takes a sip and a single brow raises as she returns that coy smile.
But under the table, her toes curl and uncurl.
She holds the glass by the stem, twirling it so the bubbles catch the sunlight as she says, “Family? If you are referring to my animal companions on my island, all are well and happy … surely you don’t mean my actual family. ”
Leonora laughs as she leans back in her chair. “Well, you never know. It has been centuries since we’ve caught up. Reconciliations happen all the time, but it sounds like that’s not the case with you?”