I remembered seeing him fall, the blood. The consort unconscious. I’d never gone back to check on him because a guy in all black had just crashed through the window and shot the person next to me. Hell, I’d just assumed… Stupid. I’d learned my lesson. Never assume. “Well, that’s good to hear. Please tell him… no hard feelings.”
“I don’t know that term, but it seems that you have found someone to ease your body’s needs on a more permanent basis.”
I watched Leo circle by, the dance still going, the music mixing in with the lively conversations all around us. It was a long set. He lifted his gaze to mine, and I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Just like that, the air was locked in my lungs. God, he was so freaking hot. Sexy. I wanted to— “Yes, well…” That was a thread of conversation I wasn’t going to continue. “Who are they, the group in capes?” I asked, tipping my head toward several men and one woman in black capes on the edge of the room. It was definitely time to change the subject off of consorts, mates and my needy vagina.
Their uniforms were interesting. If I were being honest, they looked like high school cheerleaders—skipping the tiny pleated skirts. Black, white and sil
ver, the zig-zag geometric designs on their shirts were distinct. Different from everyone else in the room. Black shoulders. White chest. Silver darts at the side and a black triangle pointing up toward the heart. The upper arms were white beneath the shoulder, but from the elbow down, the uniforms were shimmering, metallic silver. Their pants and boots were black. There were both men and a woman wearing the strange outfits, like they were the only ones who thought they were coming to a Cos-Play and no one else got the memo. Their capes were thick, black on the back, a soft, shimmering silver on the inside. It looked like sparkling silver mink.
Weird. Did that come from a bizarre Aleran animal? And if it did, how could they kill something so damn beautiful?
At the top of the black peak on their shirts, just under the sternum, each of them had a distinct symbol. What was that? Their rank? And what was with the swords hanging from every one of their hips. They weren’t decorative. They were simple. Slim. And they looked very well used—and sharp.
“Clerics,” Thor commented.
“Priests? Monks?” I asked. Okay. Weird outfits for a priest, but I was on a different planet.
“Not exactly.” He cleared his throat and took his time, as if working out how to explain. “I apologize, Princess. It is hard to remember that while your mother is Queen Celene, you have only been on Alera a short time. The clerics… they are spiritual leaders, but not of the type I believe you are suggesting. Those present here are of the highest order. The leaders. But the Clerical Order has existed for as long as your royal bloodline. They are sworn protectors of the crown, and of the citadel. There are thousands of them serving all over Alera. Their lower ranking members train to serve the people in a spiritual sense, counseling others in times of stress or grief. Officiating at births and deaths. Marriages. Matters of finance. But they do not hold court, or preach from a book, as I understand your religious leaders do.”
Finances? Right. So, not so different from the churches back home. Maybe like higher-ups in the Catholic church at the Vatican. “What are the symbols below their chests?”
“That is their family crest. They are all volunteers, called to serve in the order. Some are born without legacy or inheritance, and it is a way to keep a roof over their head. Others are healers. But all keep their family crest on their uniform. If they have no family name, they take the sign of the order.”
That was depressing. I’d have to find out more about that system once my mother was back on the throne. “What about the old man talking to them? Is he a cleric too?” The man I asked about looked like he was in his seventies, but quick-witted. Not dull. His hands moved in an animated fashion as he spoke and the others bent close to listen, as if what he said mattered.
“That is Lord Wyse on the left, and no, he is not a cleric. He is the head of the Royal Guards’ Optimus unit, his title being Inspector Optimi. It’s a fancy title for being in charge of the group who mete justice. They investigate crimes, examine evidence and prosecute and try the guilty in court.”
He sounded impressive and looked a little… daunting.
“Actually, he is one of your cousins, Princess,” Thor continued. “He is very, very rich, and I have no doubt that his many children and grandchildren will not be pleased about your return.” His grin was contagious, so I gave in and grinned back at him, for I knew what family was like. You couldn’t choose them and you were stuck with them, no matter what.
“Running away with the family money, am I?” I asked, joking.
Thor cleared his throat. “Oh, yes. Starting with his eldest daughter, your cousin Radella. I’m sure she is already wondering when you will force her out of her home.”
I didn’t see a resemblance between Lord Wyse and Radella, but I didn’t doubt their father/daughter connection. He looked like he swallowed a lemon, a look I saw frequently on Radella’s face. “It’s my home,” I countered, clarifying that Radella had settled in too well to a home that didn’t belong to her. “It’s my mother’s.”
He raised his hands, palms out. “I accuse you of nothing. It is your rightful home. But Radella and her family have lived there for more than twenty years, ruled the roost, so to speak. They will not be happy to leave the house—or the status—behind.”
I squinted, trying to get a better look at this Lord Wyse. My cousin? Radella’s father? Ugh. “Who is the scary looking guy behind Lord Wyse?” He looked like he’d just ridden in from the desert. Perma-sunburn. His face was thin and he looked… mean. And he had a large scar on the side of his face, from the corner of his mouth down to his jaw. Like someone had put a jagged knife in his mouth and not cut… but ripped through his flesh. Gah, that must have been horribly painful, especially since there were ReGen wands and pods to heal wounds.
I looked closer, trying to see the color of their energy. Strangely, I saw nothing.
Confused, I turned my attention to a group standing closer to me. Perhaps Lord Wyse and the clerics were too far away.
Nope. Nothing.
What the hell? What happened to my superpower?
I turned my head too quickly and the room spun, just for a moment. I was tipsy. Off one glass of wine.
5
Trinity
Damn. So, alcohol was going to kill my secret ability to see people’s energy? That totally sucked. I’d have to be a lot more careful at these kinds of events in the future. I needed every advantage I could get. Lord Wyse might just be a shrewd businessman. Or he could be a serial killer. One glass of wine and I couldn’t tell the difference.
Thor frowned, his gaze following mine as I returned my attention to Lord Wyse, the clerics, and the man with the scar. “I do not know the male with the scarred face standing behind him. He looks like a hired bodyguard. The practice is not uncommon among the nobility.”