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A loaded silence followed.

Reynard sniffed. “Well. I’ll be glad to dance on the grave of your foulest pupil, at last. After Tjaele, it’s the barest justice I could receive.”

Foulest pupil? Riella didn’t know who or what Tjaele was, but with such strong talk, surely he referred to Polinth. If so, they might have an unlikely ally in Reynard.

She tapped Jarin’s back, which was taut with tension.

“Does he mean—” she whispered.

But her query was interrupted by King Reynard striding away from his sister and the High Magus. Riella cursed inwardly. Should they follow the king and try to enlist his help, or appeal to the High Magus? They were running out of time.

Jarin decided for her.

“I’ll follow him,” he muttered into her ear. He pulled her around the other side of the gargantuan state, so that they were out of Reynard’s sight when he stomped past them toward the doors. “You question the Magus. He’s an opaque man but he’ll not hurt you, and the queen seems harmless enough. Reynard could go either way. And Riella?”

She looked into his eyes, which were searing and bright behind his black skull mask.

“Yes?”

“I love you,” he said.

Then, he was gone, melting into the shadows in the wake of King Reynard.

His words left her strangely breathless. Then, a smile spread across her face beneath the privacy of her butterfly mask. How incredible.

She was loved. Though she would die, she would die loved. Could anyone truly hope for more?

The queen’s velvety voice broke through Riella’s joyful realization and she forced herself to concentrate on eavesdropping.

“My apologies,” she was saying. “He’s a bit of a zealot, I’m afraid. Old-fashioned in his beliefs. Given what he’s been through, you can understand. But I assure you, I’m far more amenable to the mystical arts than my brother. I hope you and I can be friends, Magus. Just don’t tell my brother.” Her laughter tinkled. “I’ve already enlisted the services of Polinth on a little project of mine. Brilliant man.”

Riella couldn’t believe her ears. Polinth certainly had been busy—he’d already hoodwinked the new queen. Without Jarin to temper her impulsivity, Riella hastened from her hiding spot to confront the queen and the High Magus.

“You’re wrong! Polinth is evil.”

She faltered as she looked from the queen’s surprised face to the High Magus’s eyes, which were pale gray and wintry under his crimson hood.

“He seeks the Amulet of Delphine,” she tried to explain. “He stole my Voice. And gave me legs. We need your help to stop him.”

The acolytes turned their attention to her, listening in silence. In Riella’s peripheral vision, royal guards materialized around the room, closing in slowly on her. The queen held up her hand and they halted, but did not disperse.

The High Magus regarded the siren, his eyes not moving from her masked face. “Stop him from what?”

“Well, we don’t really—” Riella quailed, aware that she sounded mad. “He does all kinds of awful experiments. And, he’s holding an elf captive! He drains her life force.”

“Goodness,” said Meliohr, her golden beaded dress glimmering in the low light. “The alcohol certainly has been flowing. Since it’s my wedding night and a happy occasion, I shall overlook that you didn’t address me in the proper manner.”

“What?” asked Riella, nonplussed. “Queen Petra never expected sirens to bow before her.”

Meliohr’s mood shifted instantly, steel appearing in her gaze. “I am not Queen Petra. Your first clue should’ve been?—”

The High Magus cut in, his voice chilling and low. “Polinth is not my concern. Nor should he be yours. The Amulet of Delphine lies at the bottom of the ocean. Unless you believe a siren will help him, which I highly doubt, all is well. This is not the first time he’s made a bid for such an item. He may be eccentric in his academic pursuits, but my understanding is that he has a progressive Rotting disease and is not long for this world. Whatever your quarrel with him, Nature will surely resolve things shortly. Now, leave us.”

Eccentric? Quarrel? He was a torturer and murderer.

And it was Riella who was not long for this world. The night would claim her before Polinth’s disease claimed him. Perhaps she should’ve pursued Reynard with Jarin. Confronting the High Magus was a waste of her precious remaining time.

“You don’t—” she started.