Page 279 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
My throat dips.Majesty? And is it that obvious that I’m in way over my head?
“A pause in... cataclysmic events would be favorable.”
Without missing a beat, Lazarus and Levi’s hands settle on the small of my back, and I can’t help but notice their fingers briefly touch before re-settling apart. It makes yet another knot form in my chest.
Azrael, on the other hand, is on the receiving end of a rather brutal verbal lashing courtesy of Queen Monette, at hisexceedingly poor handling of Vassileo’s deterioration.
Her scowl softens only briefly at his reply. “You’re not wrong.”
She shakes her head. “And Somnus mentioned absolutely nothing of having to live beside the drakonati. You know their culture differs greatly from ours, what with their females skulking around with their newly mated males on leashes.”
Even in my state of shock, the words draw my gaze. I blame it on my desperate need for distraction.
Queen Monette gives me a beseeching look as she continues. “How am I to explain such customs to my grandchildren when they wish to explore beyond the palace?”
Azrael clears his throat to return her gaze to his. “Perhaps that it is an ancient part of their courtship—where the more physically powerful and dominant male publicly displays his submission and devotion to his beloved.”
Queen Monette arches a brow as though suddenly intrigued. Her eyes dance between Azrael and Lazarus. “Oh?”
“Indeed.”
Her eyes slide to King Charon, lips pursed. “Perhaps there is something there to be learned. Explored even. Wouldn’t you say, husband?”
King Charon suddenly coughs as if having choked on his own spit as his charcoal-gray cheeks darken further and hisinfernum–the glowing meridians of magic that line his body–brighten.
Queen Monette fails to mask the grin she attempts to tame by biting the inside of her cheek. Said grin diminishes as a ground-trembling roar from the top of the night sky-lit tunnel leading into Sinsól rents the air.
Craning my head, I discover the female drakonati we saw on our way here. She descends the tunnel and shifts midair before slamming onto the ground and cracking the marble floors.
Queen Monette rolls her eyes. “You see? That was a perfectly good marble floor, hundreds of years old. Someone will have to replace that now, or use precious magic to repair it.”
I offer her a tight smile as my patience grows thin. “I’m certain we can all come up with a solution that will foster a peaceful co-existence.”
Queen Monette’s gaze meets mine as she heaves a sigh. “Akash willing... At least, I can’t imagine it being worse than the chaos and unrest in Atratus.”
My smile is nothing short of wooden.
One can hope.
LEVI
Violette is unusually quiet, like the calm in the eye of a storm. Azrael and Lazarus stand on either side of me as we watch her sitting on the balcony of one of the myriad guest rooms of what is now her palace. We spent the rest of the evening coordinating how and where Azrael and Lazarus’ people will begin integrating into society here, and for the Sinsólians who choose to leave—like the harems of newly freed concubines—Violette has given them a fraction of her father’s wealth to help get their feet on the ground elsewhere.
King Charon and Queen Monette will rule in her stead as Viceroy and Vicereine; Violette will return intermittently to check in on things but has made it clear she doesn’t want to be shackled to an entire kingdom of people, nor be confined to her father’s palace. Thanks to Azrael’s memories merging with my own, I’m aware of the fact that drakonati have no singular monarch or ruler, outside of Ataraxus—one of Queen Mareina’s three soulbound. He might loosely be considered their King, but doesn’t impose any of the impositions of a conventional ruler, but is simply revered as the most powerful and wise among them, in addition to leading the drakonati in battle.
According to Somnus, he had no interest in acquiring more power, land, or responsibility and his reply to Lazarus’ offer to bargain was quoted verbatim as, “My people are capable of ruling themselves, my priorities begin and end with my Queen, and I would sooner castrate myself then enter into another bargain with the God of Death. Good day to you.”
A kindred spirit.
As my eyes linger on Violette, I get a sudden, bizarre idea.
An urge.
Right now, she doesn’t need reassurances or empty words about a future beyond our control.
She just needs to be reminded she is loved, and that she is not alone.
That just because her father couldn’t be who she needed him to be, doesn’t mean that we won’t be.
