you should see me in a crown
your silence is my favorite sound
your silence is my favorite sound
Vendetta doesn’t like to be interrupted. Especially not when she is in the middle of important business.
And make no mistake—Vendetta’s business is always important.
With Raum terrorizing all of Solterra with his tyrant rule, she’s been occupied figuring out the best way to run the Scorpions in the dark despite his rules. Thus far, nobody has gotten caught. Like she’d thought that first day he had taken to the steps of the citadel, he still isn’t a very impressive adversary. And the rather large number of goons he has working for him?
Trying not to starve themselves to death.
She can’t blame them, not really. But she also has her own to take care of, and she just doesn’t have the resources to feed all of Solterra.
Raum: he is no better than Zolin, the boy-king. For different reasons, but they are both deserving of death. Zolin got his. Raum will soon enough, Vendetta is sure. The cruel might have power, but it never lasts for very long in this world.
Her power, of course, will outlast them all.
She is signing a few documents, reading a letter authored by one of her flies on the wall when the bird arrives. Vendetta doesn’t like to be interrupted. Especially not by news of equines who have been sticking their noses in places where their noses do not belong.
The bird perches upon Azrail’s antlers and waits for her to look up before relinquishing the parchment. Her ruby eyes darken as she reads the few short lines, the simple scrawl and unassuming words to the untrained eye.
Oh, somebody has made a horrible mistake this day.
Vendetta pushes away from her desk and reaches for a clean sheet of paper and a pen. She scrawls out three short words in sharp, curving script:
And ties the small slip to the birds leg before sending it back out the window and to the desert. It will get there before her, but she will not be long behind it. “Come, Azrail, we’ve got someone to take care of.” Her steps echo through the halls, and her presence lingers in the empty room long after she has gone.
The three men have stopped just before the girl, blocking her path back in the direction of the court. When she speaks, one of them releases a chuckle that does not sound like what she said was a joke. Another mutters something under his breath to the one in the middle, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of her, yet.
“It’s lookin’ rather red, don’t you think?” He says, and he cracks a smile but it is wrong. It doesn’t match the conversational, idle question. It doesn’t go to his eyes, which are as golden as the sands under the midday sun.
“That means trouble’s coming,” the one on the right says, who had laughed earlier. His eyes are dark like the night, almost impossible to see into.
It isn’t long before the bird is back, and, having delivered the scroll, circles off to land a few feet away on a dead tree. The stallion in the middle glances at the note, golden eyes flickering between it and the girl for a moment before he shoves it in his pocket. In the shift of his coat, some golden shape flashes on the fabric, but is hidden again in the shadows.
His smile grows wider, “Seems our boss wants to meet you, hope you didn’t have early plans this morning. Best we wait right where we are.”
Vendetta comes from behind them, Azrail at her shoulder. In the early morning light she is black and white and violent red, and he is a vision of death lingering. Her steps are nearly silent in the sand, but for the whispering of silk across the dunes.
Her horns curve towards the sky, the pearls hanging from her roses like drops of pure gold.
“Move aside,” she orders, and the men part like a sea before her. One of them dips his head to her and says a quick, “Mistress.” Vendetta, for the moment, does not take her eyes off the girl, and her ruby eyes are sharp and cutting.
“You have been asking about the Scorpions.” It’s not a question, Vendetta knows it is true, or else she would not be here. Her spies do not bring her useless information, they know better than that. There is a question there, though, that she hopes this girl is bright enough to discern for herself and that is why.
Vendetta presses closer, Azrail lingering behind, an eyeless but knowing beast. “You should be more careful about the kinds of things you go around asking after. In Novus, everything has ears.”
In her Solterra, in her Novus, there are eyes and ears almost everywhere. Oh, the places her reach does not touch are few and far between, and getting smaller every day if she has any say about it. Vendetta does not take kindly to sneaks and meddlesome sorts, especially when their carelessness endangers the very empire she has built.
If she hasn’t been so careful to keep the Scorpions underground, it could have been a lot worse.
But Vendetta is nothing if not prepared.
“Tell me, did you learn anything… of use?” Vig, well. Fortunately for him, it wasn’t his fault. Normally they took care of anyone who said too much about the order. Vendetta’s gaze darkened, imperceptibly, as she cocked her head slightly to the side. Daringly. Try and lie to me.
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