‘Silence,’ said the Queen. ‘You are not to speak directly to me. Marimé is marimé, no matter the bargain that was struck with the Council. If you wish to address me, you will speak through the Marksman.’
Their eyes met for a single, tension-saturated moment. I glanced between the two. If Augustine hadn’t told me his family connection to the Romanys, I never would’ve guessed he and the Queen were siblings. She reminded me of Nicolas. But Augustine shared nothing with them, apart from his tall, lean frame.
The Queen turned her attention back to me. Something within me felt her Roma authority in a way that hummed through my guardian blood. Before I even realized it, I had bowed my head respectfully.
‘Very well,’ said Augustine, his tone curt. ‘Quentin, if you would tell the Queen that I have brought this gargoyle to be placed on trial for the death of Karl Corsi, of the Romany clan, as requested by Nicolas Romany.’
She continued to look at me – not with fear, disgust, or pity as I was accustomed to, but with something that bothered me a lot more. Something emotionless.
‘The gesture seems honorable,’ she said. ‘But the man once known as Adolár Romany has no honor in him and does nothing without seeking his own gain. So why is he really here?’
Augustine rolled his shoulders back in a slow, fluid motion. Only the hardened edges around his eyes betrayed his irritation. ‘Quentin, if you would please relay to the Queen my request for a private audience with her.’
The strange emphasis he put on the woman’s title sparked my curiosity. It was heavy with a meaning I didn’t understand, but one that seemed to heighten the tense air between them.
‘I have already given the marimé access to the Court of Shadows, which is against our highest law. And yet, he still has the audacity to ask for more.’
‘The Queen will benefit greatly from this meeting,’ said Augustine.
Quentin repeated his sentence. The Marksman’s expression hovered somewhere between smug and annoyed, however he kept his eyes lowered respectfully. The Queen hesitated, turning her gaze from me to the ceiling.
‘Because I am in an amiable mood,’ she said finally, ‘I shall grant the marimé a thirty-minute audience with me, but he must be accompanied by my Marksmen and an appointed liaison to speak through.’
‘Surely I could have an audience with you alone, for only—’
‘If he speaks to me again,’ said the Queen, ‘he shall have nothing.’
Augustine dipped his head. ‘Quentin, if you would offer the Queen my sincere apologies. Her offer is gracious, and I will accept it.’
The Queen moved down the corridor, glancing sideways at me. She carried herself much the same way as Josephine’s father did, all authority and confidence. Whatever she thought of me, I couldn’t tell, but she’d scored major points in my estimation for the way she’d treated Augustine.
She snapped her fingers. ‘Release the gargoyle.’
Donani dipped his head. ‘But Kralitsa …’
‘Now.’
The Marksman removed the padlock and slid open the heavy door. I watched him warily. His weapons remained sheathed, but I had no doubt he’d be fast to draw them. My wings felt like stone slabs attached to my back, and my head was so heavy I could hardly lift it. I willed my feet to move and stepped out of the cell. The Queen assessed me steadily.
‘He looks half-dead,’ she said to the Marksman at her right.
‘Only because he is being stubborn,’ said Augustine, his gaze moving past me to the untouched bag of hamburgers on the cell floor and then meeting my eyes once more. ‘It is, unfortunately, his loss. Now, Quentin, if you would kindly repeat all this to the Queen.’
‘The marimé traitor tests my good will,’ said the Queen.
The pompous expression I was used to seeing on Augustine’s face returned with a vengeance. His smile stretched the white scar at his cheek into a thin line. ‘Allow us to demonstrate what this creature is capable of.’
Warning vibes tingled down my spine.
‘Please, Your Majesty,’ I said softly. The phrase sounded weird, but I didn’t know how else to address her. The Queen’s forehead wrinkled in surprise, and I hurried to speak before she could respond. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening. Nicolas sent me here because the kris was deadlocked. I didn’t kill anyone. I only want the opportunity to defend myself and show you the truth.’
‘The truth is precisely what I desire,’ she replied. She stepped back. ‘Take the gargoyle to the Stone Chamber.’
Quentin and Donani took up positions on either side of me as I was escorted down the hall and out of the dungeon area. We moved through an intersection of corridors and descended several more steps before reaching another room. The cavernous space looked two stories high and void of anything – save an enormous cage.
It was octagonal in shape and made of chain-link fencing on all sides and along the top. The floor was spread with a thick mat. It looked like something out of a professional cage-fighting match.
‘You can’t be serious,’ I said.
Quentin undid the latch. ‘Get in.’
Donani stripped off my cloak. The straps around my wings were cut, and the chains linking my manacles together were removed. The Marksmen’s spears made sure I complied with Quentin’s order. Once I was inside, the door of the cage was shut and bolted. Adrenaline seeped into my blood, turning my breaths shallow. I grabbed hold of the chain-link wall, my eyes searching for the Queen.
‘What about the trial?’ The pleading in my voice mingled with a growl.
‘You shall have your trial,’ she said. ‘After I know what manner of creature I’m dealing with.’
A hissing sound reached my ears. I lifted my head and sniffed the air. Instantly, I wanted to gag. Grotesques. I recognized the smell, thanks to the one that had infiltrated the Romany camp the evening I’d arrived. My heart beat faster, pushing the adrenaline through my veins.
Screeching metal reverberated off the walls. Another door on the opposite side of the cage opened. I recoiled as several Marksmen rolled two large containers inside. The lids lifted and two shadowen leapt into the cage. One was a feral cat, large and mutated, with razor-sharp claws. The other was almost twice my size, a terrifying mixture of reptile and bird.
A snarl quivered against my lips. I backed away, unfurling my wings and taking to the air. The muscles along my shoulder blades and wing joints ached from being pinned so long. I hovered, using most of my energy to keep my wings pumping.
The reptile bird spread its gray-feathered wings and launched itself at me. I rolled in the air. The grotesque streaked by me and circled around the cage. I countered, keeping plenty of distance between us. My blood felt hot in my veins, burning me from the inside out. I clenched my fists.
Below me, the cat creature paced, its solid silver eyes narrowed into slits and black ooze dripping from its fangs. The bird beast screeched, readying itself for another charge. There was no way I could escape them, in the air or on the ground. The edges of my vision blurred crimson.
‘I’m not going to fight for your sport,’ I called down.
‘It’s not sport,’ said Augustine. ‘It’s evidence.’
I was a guardian. I was supposed to defend Gypsies from the nasty creatures circling the cage below me, but I had a feeling that wasn’t the kind of evidence Augustine was looking for.
I dropped to the mat, crouched low, wings expanded to their full length. The cat dove at me, teeth catching my shoulder. They pierced my skin like knives, and I cried out. I clamped onto