Blessed be the Wicked (Dark Maji #2) - Kel Carpenter Page 0,2

know what the squabble was about,” she said coolly. “You do not become the Pirate Queen—recognized and feared throughout the land and sea—without learning to read the waves of people as well. I know all about your enemies, Lazarus Fierté, just as I know you may be the heir to Norcasta, but you are not the blood heir.” She raised a brow again, silencing Lazarus where he stood.

Axe yawned, swinging her arms just enough to sway them around her sides—the picture of a bored child. Draeven clenched his jaw in a silent fury. His knuckles whitened. But Quinn knew this rage was not truly from their current situation and was instead the fervor that had been inside her—now taken into him. She still couldn’t believe that Draeven—obnoxious Lord Sunshine—was a rage thief.

Then again, she’d seen stranger in her time. She was stranger.

Despite the waves of tension that wafted from his left-hand, and all that rage just waiting to be released again, Lazarus remained stoic and composed. “Then perhaps you understand my reason for requesting an audience with you, Queen Imogen,” he said.

Before the woman could respond, the great hall doors opened, and echoing footsteps approached from behind. Quinn turned back as a new man entered. The guards bowed low.

Tall and slender, he dressed in black garb with only a white and blue tie around his waist. The colored ends dangled to the man’s feet. Quinn watched him as he moved to step around their group and toward Queen Imogen with a familiarity that belied his lack of courtly attire.

“You’re late,” Axe said absently.

The man didn’t respond as he bowed low over the Queen’s feet. “I do apologize for my tardiness,” he said. “I was not informed that your guests had arrived.”

Imogen sighed and flicked her fingers at the man. “No matter,” she said. “You’re here now.”

He rose to his feet and bowed once more, taking the Queen’s hand and pressing a chaste kiss to one of the many rings on her knuckles. “Thank you, my lady.”

Quinn lifted a brow as Axe’s lips curled back in distaste as the man moved to stand behind the opposite side of her chair. “This is my advisor, Zorel Vordlain,” Imogen said as she leaned to the side and handed her now empty cup to a servant.

“That is a Norcastan name, is it not?” Lazarus commented, his gaze dropping down to conceal his expression.

Zorel nodded. “Yes, the Vordlains are Norcastan noblemen; lords overseeing the vast countryside,” he said. “But I have lived in Ilvas for many years. It has become my home.”

Lazarus’ expression didn’t change as he nodded. “I am Lazarus Fierté, heir to the Norcastan throne,” he introduced. “These are my vassals, Draeven and Quinn.” Lazarus didn’t turn as he said, “And behind me is Vaughn, an emissary of Thorne, leader of the Cisean tribes.”

“I see. And what business do you have here with my Queen?” Zorel inquired.

It didn’t escape Quinn’s notice that Axe’s expression darkened on the advisor as he spoke. The Queen leaned over and whispered a hair too loud in Ilvan.

“He is the dark prince you spoke of.”

The man’s expression didn’t shift, and Quinn didn’t flinch, keeping her gaze fixed. They had to know that neither Lazarus nor Draeven spoke Ilvan. They assumed that she couldn’t as well. Quinn kept her smirk to herself.

Lazarus flashed them a tight smile, barely restraining the savagery behind it. “I am here to discuss matters of great urgency between our two countries,” he answered—ignoring the comment that he couldn’t translate. “I think it would befit the Queen of Ilvas and the future king of Norcasta to come to an agreement that aids us both.” Lazarus dismissed Zorel without another word, turning his attention back to the Queen.

Quinn coughed, trying to disguise her chuckle. Judging by Lazarus’ withering glare and Axe’s beaming smile, she did a poor job of it.

“Your Highness,” Lazarus continued, “I have an alliance with the Cisean tribes, and I intend to broker a similar arrangement with N’skara. Would you not want to be included in such an alliance—when your country borders all three?”

Quinn’s body went still as those words sunk in.

N’skara.

Her homeland.

Her kinsmen.

Lazarus had no idea the thoughts his words just spawned. Nor did he understand that his actions might have very different consequences than the ones he intended. Quinn kept those feelings hidden, instead focusing on the conversation before her and the way Imogen’s eyes fell on her.

The Queen pursed her lips, fighting a smile as she continued. “A vassal that