All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [197]
How intriguing.
Torches whooshed to life—thirteen fiery brands about the perimeter of the room—each held by a Champion of the Blood Rose, Sealiah’s personal guard.
Sitting upon a tiny throne, orchids twinning along her arms, was Queen Sealiah in armor that appeared as if it had been painted upon her body—curves of dark silver that flashed with light and shadows and reflections of fire . . . and pulsing a nacreous green from the emerald set upon her exposed throat. She was all the more lovely because her features also smoldered with the angry passion that came from bloodlust . . . and lust . . . and anticipation of the kill.
She held a sliver of dark-matter steel that had existed before the mortal Earth had been dust gathering in void: Saliceran—the broken sword. Its blade wept poison from its Damascus metal folds that had sent many to a painful demise. She pointed the jagged tip at his neck.
“Welcome, Great Deceiver,” Sealiah said in a mocking tone. “Welcome to your death.”
56
TWO MORE PIECES IN PLAY
Sealiah, Queen of the Poppy Lands, raised one finger, and her thirteen personal guards set their torches in wall sconces and lowered their rifle lances at Louis. They would not miss.
“Not a word from you,” she cautioned Louis.
She held her rage in check only because she felt the smug satisfaction of being right.
Louis had come. He had tripped but a single of her black widow warning lines that crisscrossed every square meter of her castles’ walls. Even without the warning, though, she knew he would eventually have tried to enter this room. It was too much of a temptation for one so far fallen from glory.
And for once, the crowned, clown Master of Deception had been caught red-handed. Perhaps weakened by his association with too many mortals? Or had he only allowed himself to been captured . . . part of some more intricate ruse?
Nothing was ever what it seemed with this one.
Louis sighed and nodded his head in the slightest of bows. The rogue even had the temerity to smile!
She admired such daring. Almost enough to forget he had come to betray her and sell her battle plans to Mephistopheles.
Would the slightest of dalliances hurt? Louis was handsome and cunning once more—all the things she remembered that had once attracted her to him. And he was never more attractive than when in the midst of his duplicity.
But such thoughts made her vulnerable. She exhaled. If she took advantage of his weakened position for her pleasures, she would be exposed in their intimacy . . . and he would take advantage of her as well.
Perhaps mutual vulnerability was the very definition of “intimate.”
Louis opened his mouth.
Sealiah held up one hand and stood, keeping the jagged end of Saliceran pointed at his throat. She walked over to him.
Louis shut his mouth, no longer smiling.
“Your words are too sharp,” she whispered. “So I shall not give you the chance to cut me.”
She motioned and three of her champions searched him. They found wallet, cell phone, handkerchief, poker chips, dice, and bottle of Irish single malt whiskey—but no weapons.
“His cloak,” she said. This was a game for her now. Certainly Louis would not be here without tricks up his sleeves.
Her champions ripped it off and examined it: ordinary black wool.
Louis held up his hands in mock surrender.
As if this would make her think him defenseless. She knew better than to fall for his simpleton’s misdirections.
She looked from his hands, to his animated angular face, to the floor—to the flickering shadows cast by her guards . . . to the decided lack of any shadow attached to Louis’s feet.
“Of course,” she said, “you would not risk coming with it. But where I wonder does your shadow now roam?”
Louis shrugged, and the simpleton look of innocence on his face told her no answers would be soon forthcoming.
“So be it.” She moved to his back and raised Saliceran.
One thrust and she could forget Louis. That would be best.
Under normal circumstances, having him underfoot was dangerous. In wartime, leaving Louis alive could be a fatal oversight.
And yet why did