Hypaxia gave the dragon another wary glance. Flynn stepped forward, slinging an arm around Hypaxia’s shoulders. “Welcome. Let’s talk about all those times Ruhn tried to talk to you at the Summit and you ignored him.”
Declan chuckled, taking up a position at Hypaxia’s other side. She furrowed her brow, as if the two males spoke another language entirely.
The queen seemed to note the details of his house as she was escorted to the sectional. His disgusting, beer-soaked house. Solas, a half-smoked mirthroot blunt sat in the ashtray on the coffee table a mere foot from Hypaxia.
Ruhn said to Ithan, Get that fucking mirthroot out of here.
Ithan lunged for it.
Not right now! When she’s not looking.
Ithan caught himself with that sunball player’s grace and relaxed against the cushions as Hypaxia sat, nestled between Flynn and Declan. If Ithan had to pick one word to describe the queen’s expression, it would have been baffled. Utterly baffled.
Ruhn rubbed his neck, approaching the couch. “So, ah. Good to see you.”
Hypaxia smiled in that wise, knowing way. Fucking Hel, she was lovely. But her voice darkened as she said, “I’d like to have a word with you. Alone.”
Ithan rose, subtly swiping the mirthroot from the table. “Room’s yours. We’ll be upstairs.”
Flynn opened his mouth, presumably to say something mortifying, but Ithan grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him up, shoving the mirthroot into the lord’s hands. The sprites fell into line behind them as Declan joined the fray, and then they were all gone, Ariadne stalking up the stairs after them. Ruhn had no doubt they’d try to eavesdrop.
He took a seat on the stained, reeking couch, reining in his cringe as Hypaxia adjusted the folds of her blue robes. “So … how are you?”
Hypaxia angled her head. She didn’t wear her crown of cloudberries, but every line of her radiated grace and calm and care. She was about fifty years younger than he was, yet he felt like a whelp in front of her. Had she known her fiancé lived in a place like this, had a lifestyle like this?
“I wanted to ask you for a favor.” Ruhn stilled. She went on, “I’ve come to Lunathion for the mating celebration in a few weeks. I’ll be staying at the witches’ embassy, but …” She twisted her hands, the first sign of doubt he’d ever seen from her. “I was wondering if you might spare me an escort.”
“Why? I mean, sure, yes, but … everything okay?”
She didn’t answer.
Ruhn asked, “What about your coven?” They should protect their queen at any cost.
Her long lashes bobbed. “They were my mother’s coven. It was one of her last wishes that I inherit them, rather than select my own.”
“So you don’t like them?”
“I don’t trust them.”
Ruhn considered. “You want me to give you an escort to protect you from your own coven?”
Her mouth tightened. “You think I’m mad.”
“I thought witches lived and died for their loyalty.”
“The loyalty of these witches began and ended with my mother. She raised me in isolation—from the world, but also from them. My tutors were … unconventional.”
It was the most they’d ever spoken to each other. Ruhn asked, “In what way?”
“They were dead.”
A chill went down his spine. “Right. Necromancer stuff, huh?”
“Enadors can raise the dead, yes. My mother summoned three ancient, wise spirits to teach me. One for battle and physical training, one for mathematics and sciences, and the other for history, reading, and languages. She oversaw my magical training herself—especially the healing.”
“And this freaked her coven out?”
“It estranged us. My only companions while growing up were the dead. When my mother passed, I found myself surrounded by strangers. And they found themselves with a queen whose unorthodox education unnerved them. Whose gifts of necromancy unnerved them further.”
“But you’re the last Enador. Who would they replace you with?”
“My sister.”
Ruhn blinked. “The Hind?”
“Lidia has no witch gifts, so she would be a figurehead. She’d wear the crown, but my mother’s general, Morganthia, would rule.”
“That’s insane.”
“Lidia was born first. She is the spitting image of my mother.” Hypaxia’s father must have passed along the genes for her darker coloring, then. “Even while I was growing up, I sometimes heard whispers from my mother’s coven wondering if … perhaps Lidia should not have been given away.”