Ithan dared ask, “Why did you defect from the witches?”
“I didn’t like the direction they were headed.”
“Was this when Hecuba was queen?”
“Long before that. The witches have been in decline for generations. A magical and moral rot.” She leaned her head against the back of her chair. “Na?ve girl,” Jesiba murmured to herself.
“What sort of oaths does Hypaxia need to swear at the Black Dock before sunrise?”
“Old ones.”
“That’s not—”
“The mysteries of the House of Flame and Shadow are not for you to know.”
“Will Hypaxia … change?”
“No. Her oaths are nothing like those the Reapers swear. The establishment of allegiance is a legal process, but one that must be honored as the Under-King has decreed.”
The Under-King … whom Jesiba served as second in command. “I didn’t know you were so important here.”
“I’m flattered. And before you ask, no, Quinlan isn’t aware. People in this House don’t talk. But the City Heads know.”
“And the Astronomer … he knows.” She nodded. “What’s your deal with him? You said you have a monthly bill.” He blew out a breath. “Fuck, I can’t pay you all that money—”
“It’s a tax write-off for the House,” Jesiba said, waving a hand. “And I’m growing tired of all these questions from you. You’re asking things you have no right to know.”
“Then stop telling me so much.”
She smirked. “You’re not as boring as you seem.”
“I’m flattered,” he echoed.
Jesiba laughed quietly. And then said, “A few centuries after Apollion changed me, he heard whispers that I had … powers. Being a lazy wretch, he sent his brother Aidas to investigate. And presumably to kill me if I was indeed a threat.”
She spoke the names of the demon princes like they were people she knew well.
“But Aidas found that I posed no threat, and discovered that I still had the library and remained defiant to his brother’s demands to reveal its so-called power. In the strange way of things, Aidas and I became friends, of a sort. We still are. I suppose it’s because we’re so used to each other now. It’s been … a long time.”
“So what did he report to Apollion?”
“That I was to be respected, but left alone.”
“And did Apollion listen?”
A half shrug. “He sends Aidas to check in every once in a while.”
“What does this have to do with the Astronomer?”
“I’ve paid the Astronomer for years now to look for a way to undo Apollion’s grip on my soul.”
Disgust roiled through him. “So you pay him and he does your bidding?”
“I pay him,” she said blandly, “but he also stands to benefit from any discovery.”
“Why?”
“He wants to find the answer so he might use it to become young himself. He is human—or used to be, before so much foul magic tainted his soul. He fears death more than anything. He stands to gain a great deal should he succeed in his search. I suppose we’re two miserable creatures feeding off each other.” She cut Ithan a look. “He might seem frail, but he’s slippery. He’ll be seeking other ways to fuck you over.”
He nodded to where he’d replaced the Godslayer Rifle on the wall. “Would you have given me the order to kill him today?”
“No,” Jesiba said. “The rifle was just a threat. I still need him.”
“I think scientists call it a symbiotic relationship.”
“Well, it’s one I’ve been building toward long before he came into existence.”
“So you’ve been using this creep and his hold on innocents—”
“You didn’t seem to have any qualms about using him when you went for information about your brother.”
The Astronomer must have told her about that visit. Ithan pressed on. “Can you … elaborate?” At her flat look, he added, “Please? Why did you even use the Astronomer in the first place?”
“I thought it was the cats who had a problem with curiosity.”
“Blame it on the part of me that chose to be a history major in college.”
Her lips curled upward, but she sighed at the ceiling and said, “In my own research over the millennia, I learned that dragon fire is one of the few things that can make a Prince of Hel balk.”