Alterant (9 page)

Kizira didn’t see where her black jeans and deep blue
silk shirt were wench clothes, but she shrugged and answered, “I find it easier to move undetected through the human world when I wear their attire, Your Highness. I’m willing to dress however is necessary to serve you best.”

Gruin strode past where Kizira had paused two steps inside the chamber. He cast her a dark look, fingering her as the one who had actually released the sentient fog in the human world.

Like I have a choice when Flaevynn compels me, old man?

Dismissing Kizira with a jut of his bony chin, Gruin pulled up short in front of the queen’s throne. His abrupt stop sent the hem of his cherry-red robe whipping around his skinny ankles. “Is it true or not?”

Flaevynn now lounged on the onyx and gold chair carved in the shape of a dragon. Her eyes gleamed with a predator’s confidence and her voice dropped low with threat. “You know the answer to that or you would not be here. As you can see, my enforcer waits to give her report. State your business and be quick, elder.”

His mouth pinched tight as a raisin. “This realm exists to shield us while we fulfill our duties according to the timeline set forth. The hostility myst was not to be used this soon. You endanger all of us by rushing ahead without knowing the entire prophecy.”

“It’s a curse, not a prophecy,” Flaevynn snarled at him. “I will not sit quietly as my death approaches and condemn yet another queen to my fate.”

Kizira doubted any altruistic intentions on Flaevynn’s part about future queens.

Undeterred by Flaevynn’s caustic bite, Gruin argued, “I am your advisor—”

Flaevynn cut him off with, “I don’t recall asking for your advice, old man.” She pointed a long black fingernail sprinkled with diamonds at him.

He backed up a step, then froze as if his feet wouldn’t move. “I’m an elder . . . protected by Cathb—”

Flaevynn swirled her finger in a tiny circle.

Kizira had never heard of an elder being killed, as the punishment for harming one was severe, but with Cathbad in the dungeon there was no one else powerful enough to intimidate Flaevynn.

Gruin’s lips yanked open. He started gagging as his tongue slid out, stretching until the pink flesh narrowed to the thickness of a pencil. A strangled cry squealed from his throat when his tongue began looping into a knot. From nowhere, a thin metal spike appeared and drove down through his tongue between the knot and his mouth.

Blood from the wound ran down his chin, spiking the air with a coppery scent.

He fell to his knees, fingers gouging his throat. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks. A pitiful sound streaked past his constant gagging. His face turned deep red before he fell forward on the marble floor and stopped moving . . . or breathing.

Kizira felt Flaevynn’s eyes on her, observing . . . judging. The queen punished weakness. Any aid Kizira might offer would only make this worse for the elder as well as herself.

Tapping into the role she’d created so long ago for survival, Kizira smiled at Flaevynn when she remarked, “I hadn’t considered the spike. Effective and brutal. Nicely done.”

Flaevynn appeared satisfied, almost smiling. She glanced down at the inert form, made a sound of disgust and snapped her fingers.

The elder jerked, then started gasping and coughing. He struggled to his knees, breathing hard through his open mouth now that his tongue had been released. Blood coated his thin lips.

Flaevynn told him, “I allow you to breathe again so that you can take my warning back to the other elders. Do not interfere where you are not needed or invited.” She looked from him to the entrance, where two guards built like ancient Spartans stood. They each hooked one of the elder’s arms and walked out carrying him between them.

Flaevynn moved her hand to the right of her throne and held it there until a young man with black hair and a perfect body appeared. He wore leather chaps and a silver choker. The punishment collar consisted of spiked links that would stab the man’s neck when anyone yanked on the braided silver rope dangling from the choker.

The queen gave the rope a light tug, and the collar pricked bloody spots on the young man’s skin.

He didn’t so much as flinch, and, like a well-trained animal, he turned his body to face her throne.

Flaevynn believed that a constant supply of young men in her bed would keep her beautiful and desirable,
but she had no control over aging . . . or the last day of her predestined life.

Not without conquering Treoir Island first.

“You’ve returned sooner than I expected,” Flaevynn said, releasing the leash. She ran her hand down her man-toy’s sculpted abs. “Since you didn’t take time to change into a proper robe to meet with me I can only assume you rushed here with good news. How many Alterants are left to retrieve?”

Kizira stepped forward until she stood upon a white tiger rug with her booted feet apart and hands clasped behind her back. She couldn’t put this off any longer. “We still have to locate and capture all five Alterants.”

Fury burned through the queen’s gaze. “What happened, Kizira? You said the bounty hunters we gave the spell to could bring in the female Belador Alterant.”

No, I said the ambush was a gamble I didn’t recommend and the men weren’t qualified.
But someone had to be blamed for the failure. “They lost her.”

“Lost? As in misplaced an Alterant? How does one do that?”

Kizira held her calm. Flaevynn’s anger could cower an army of guards, and she would only grind someone harder if they showed any vulnerability. Feeling the expected mental nudge from her suspicious queen, Kizira filled her mind with distress over having disappointed her sovereign.

Revolting, but effective, because the intrusion disappeared.

Kizira gave up a commiserative sigh, explaining, “Our
hunters almost had the female Alterant overpowered, but the VIPER liaison Sen teleported her away. We had the best bounty hunters available, but nothing like Dakkar’s. We would have used his if he hadn’t turned down the contract.”

“Offer him more.”

“I tried. He refuses to even discuss it.”

Flaevynn slapped her hand against the arm of her throne. “What kind of bounty hunting operation does he run to refuse
us
?”

“He will not jeopardize his standing with VIPER.”

The queen hissed. “VIPER is only as powerful as those who support it. When Brina of Treoir falls, so go the Beladors, their power
and
the backbone of VIPER.
Then
we’ll see who rules this world. None of this would be my problem if you’d brought me the Ngak Stone.”

Another risky project Kizira had warned against. “The Ngak Stone is known to direct its own destiny and to be highly unpredictable. If you had taken possession, the stone could have turned on you and perhaps . . . killed you.”

The only reason Kizira actually regretted losing the stone.

Kizira refused to pay attention to what the queen was doing to her manservant. She turned her gaze to the gleaming yellow eyes of the dragon’s head that hovered above Flaevynn as if daring anything to touch her. “If there is nothing else, Your Highness, I shall leave you alone.”

“You’re
not
dismissed yet,” Flaevynn spat at her. “How do you plan to capture the Alterants? I gave you permission to release the fog that would force them to change into beast forms. What more do you need?”

Permission? She’d ordered Kizira to release the fog, an ancient myst with sentient quality that turned anything it touched hostile. But contradicting the queen might end with worse than having her tongue tied and staked.

Kizira said, “The fog is only making the Rías shift.” Rías changed into beast forms similar to the way Alterants shifted, but Rías lacked the Belador blood that carried powerful abilities. Using the fog now was a mistake. One of the few specifics Cathbad had shared about the curse was warning them to wait until five specific Alterants were located before releasing a fog to intentionally force Rías to start shifting in advance of attacking Treoir.

Kizira reminded Flaevynn, “According to Cathbad’s curse, we should wait—”

“Shut up!”
The room shook and the water at the base of the waterfall boiled with Flaevynn’s rage.

An invisible force struck Kizira behind her knees, buckling her legs. She dropped to the floor, clamping her teeth hard to keep from cursing Flaevynn over the pain scorching her thighs.

One day . . .

Holding on to her temper with a tight grip, Kizira swallowed a snarl and concentrated on humility. Sweat sheened over her skin in seconds. This was more like the Flaevynn she knew and the reaction she’d expected, which was why Kizira had worn pants and a shirt instead of a bulky robe.

She squared her shoulders and straightened up.

The queen pointed a finger at Kizira. Her black nail lengthened two inches as she spoke. “I told you we do
not have to wait any longer. The time has come to end this stupid curse. All you need to concern yourself with is locating the five Belador Alterants.”

Kizira lowered her head, more to keep from exposing how she gritted her teeth. “I understand, Your Highness. I did not mean to challenge you.”

Yet.

“Have you conjured the fog in all the cities we discussed?”

Did she really think I’d come back here without doing that?
Raising her chin, Kizira said, “Yes.”

“Are you sure you made no mistake in execution?”

“I followed your instructions exactly. I generated hostility fogs scented with sulfur to mask the Noirre origin. The first cities infiltrated were along the coast in areas where that type of atmospheric condition already existed to hinder VIPER in figuring out too soon that the fog is behind the Rías shifting.”

“VIPER has no way to dissipate the myst without Medb help.”

That’s what we think, but there is always the unexpected in our world.
And the ancient spell could only be used once, but that mattered not to the queen either. “Of course not, Your Highness, but it benefits us to impede their progress in defending against our attack any time we can.”

“Has the fog reached Atlanta, where the female Alterant is?”

Kizira nodded, enjoying a brief fantasy of Flaevynn being drawn and quartered. “It will soon. I conjured the
myst in areas north of the city this morning. This will allow the haze to finger into Atlanta rather than originate there, which would alert VIPER too soon. I’m concerned about turning so many Rías that it will draw the attention of the entire North American VIPER resources.”

Rías were the name given to descendents of a beast-line traced back over a thousand years to the famous warrior Cú Chulainn, who’d had superhuman abilities, as demonstrated by his
ríastrad,
a berserker-like battle mode during which he shifted into an unidentifiable monster that killed everything in his path.

Flaevynn scoffed as though VIPER was no more than an inconvenience. “The Rías are not a concern as long as the Alterants are exposed when the sentient myst forces them to shift into their beast form.”

Kizira warned, “VIPER and the Beladors believe
all
human forms that shift into beasts are Alterants. If Rías continue to shift too soon, you will not have an army of them when you’re ready to breach Treoir Castle.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why not?”

“Because VIPER is killing Rías as soon as they are discovered and VIPER is not the only force capable of destroying them. A group of humans with high-powered custom weapons is blowing up the beasts, too. They may kill the Alterants we seek before we locate them.”

Shaking her head, Flaevynn chuckled. “One would think the lack of glowing green eyes would be a clue the Rías are not Alterants.” She sighed. “Beladors are not the brightest beacons in the night.”

Only a masochist would correct the queen, but Kizira
would argue the Beladors were their most dangerous enemy and not one to underestimate. Flaevynn hadn’t left TÅμr Medb since Kizira had been handed the role of enforcer at eighteen, or she’d realize that.

Flaevynn almost frowned, but wrinkling that perfect skin was out of the question. She murmured, “The fog should cloak the Rías.”

Kizira clarified, “The fog
is
cloaking the beasts until they walk out of it.”

“Don’t bring me problems,” Flaevynn cautioned. “I want those Belador Alterants. Now. Create a wider band of the myst, do something, but deliver them to me or I will find someone else who can.”

Like who?
Kizira clamped her mouth tight to keep from shouting that. Flaevynn had no one with Kizira’s level of power to send out to do her bidding. At least no one Kizira had ever met. Flaevynn’s panic over facing impending death had turned her crazier than usual. If Flaevynn did have someone else to fight her battles, she would order Kizira to remain in TÅμr Medb.

Kizira couldn’t risk that, not when the safety of another life depended upon her ability to come and go at will.

Stop!
Do not think about . . . Kizira flushed her mind, returning to her mental calm. She was Flaevynn’s most trusted enforcer, who worshipped her queen.

Schooling her face to passive, Kizira said, “I
will
deliver the five Alterants.”

“Then do it. You have forty-eight hours to hand me
two
Alterants. I will not suffer failure again. There is plenty of room in the dungeon with that druid.”

There was Kizira’s opening to lobby for a meeting with Cathbad. “I understand, Your Highness. Speaking of Cathbad, might you allow me to speak with him to see if he could enlighten me on how to locate the Alterants more quickly?”

Flaevynn’s face twisted with hatred. “You think he will tell you what he refuses to share with me? His own wife!”

Hard to understand why a man locked in a dungeon by his wife while she had sex with every penis in this realm would feel the least bit vengeful, huh?

Kizira forced devout sincerity into her reply and tried to sound as though she feared Cathbad. “I’m willing to risk meeting with him if it will benefit you, Your Highness.”