Change of Darkness (The Change Series Book 3) by Jacinta Jade (best new books to read txt) 📕

Siraay’s smile was pleasantly languid. She was glad she had managed to get Chezran to agree to pushing out their first face-to-face meeting after her recovery until tonight. She’d needed that long to prepare her plans. ‘Thank you, my lord. Apologies for my lateness. I had a couple of things to see to.’ Her eyes roamed the table, noting faces and positions, meeting all eyes, and stopping for an extra heartbeat on one pair—that gave her a slow blink in return.

Good, all had been set.

‘Of course,’ said Chezran, with a smile of his own. ‘Please.’ He waved a hand towards an empty seat on Siraay’s right side, which was placed between Loce and Captain Merca, then resumed his own seat.

Siraay moved towards the indicated chair, subtly altering her walk so that the split of her dress gaped open to reveal the length of her leg.

The shift of Chezran’s gaze to that spot, and the gaping mouths of two of the captains—one of them Raque—pleased her.

Siraay reached the chair and, after one of the waiting servants pulled it out for her, smoothly sat down.

To look right across the table at Archon Atalia.

Renhed had arranged it all, of course, through whatever means she had.

No doubt Atalia had been revelling in being placed so close to her lord—although she still had Pyron between her and Chezran, of course, just as Siraay had Loce seated on her right.

And it seemed that Atalia had dressed well for the evening herself. Her pale-green dress suited her light colouring, and she had made some attempt at applying powders to her face.

But it was pleasing to Siraay to see whatever smugness Atalia had been feeling die in her eyes as Siraay placed her hands on the table before her, smiling politely.

Around her, the servants conducted their duties efficiently without intruding, bringing forwards a couple of plates and serving Siraay some portions of an excellent looking meal before they filled the gleaming chalice before her with a liquid that smelled like nectar.

She ignored it all as chatter resumed around the table and angled her chin to address Chezran. ‘Yes, it was unfortunate I had to be so late this evening. But it couldn’t be helped when a piece of information came to my attention that I thought it pertinent to act on,’ she said smoothly, pitching her voice in a conversational tone.

Across the table, Atalia had tensed.

‘Really? Anything of interest?’ asked Chezran as he cut into the meat before him.

‘Well, I thought so,’ said Siraay, as if musing out loud. ‘But then, when you find out the identity of the person who tried to kill you, of course you’re going to find it interesting.’ She laughed lightly, as if this were just casual dinner talk.

Chezran froze, then slowly put down his knife and fork. ‘You know who tried to kill you?’ His voice was low and dangerous. ‘Who?’

But Siraay was ready for this interrogation and merely reached out to run a finger along the edge of her glass. ‘It’s amazing what rivalry can drive a person to do. Love, of course, can also make a person lose all sense and act irrationally. She glanced up at Chezran, holding his dark eyes. ‘But a lust for power, for strength through power …’ She shook her head. ‘They can be dangerous motivations.’

Chezran leaned forwards slightly. Not enough to draw the attention of the rest of the table beyond the five of them—because Loce and Pyron couldn’t miss any of it—but enough so that both male archons tensed.

‘Tell me who poisoned you.’

‘Well, see, I could tell you,’ Siraay said, smiling at him coyly, ‘but then you would insist on punishing the culprit.’

Chezran leaned back in his chair in disbelief, then narrowed his eyes. ‘I think that would be my right, unless you disagree?’ His voice had grown even softer, and Siraay felt Loce tap her foot under the table in warning.

Even Pyron’s eyes had gone wide beneath the silver mask.

But Siraay merely smiled placatingly at Chezran, matching his cold tone. ‘I do disagree. As the one who was poisoned, I believe I have the right to punish my attacker.’ She turned her head, and her smile widened as she stared across the table. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Archon Atalia?’

There was a long pause while Siraay watched Atalia try to think of something to say that wouldn’t implicate her, but it was a pause that lasted too long amongst company that was trained to notice vulnerabilities.

Chezran’s head shifted to take in the female archon’s face, the gazes of Loce and Pyron following, and Atalia went pale beneath the combined scrutiny. A more conclusive admission of her guilt could not have been made, even if the female had voluntarily confessed verbally.

Yet still she tried to recover, and Siraay mentally shook her head. A wiser tactician would have known when the deciding move had been made.

‘I don’t know what you’re implying, Lady Siraay, but I would certainly think that Lord Chezran has the right to decide any matters that occur in his city.’ Atalia spoke quickly, trying to cover what the silence had revealed, but it was much too late.

Siraay could see Chezran from the corner of her eye evaluating the head tactician.

Pyron had stopped looking at Atalia altogether and was now focused on Chezran, as if awaiting an order.

The conversation beyond them was beginning to die away as the captains and archons took note of the tense words and body language at the head of the table.

Chezran leaned forwards again. ‘Archon Atalia—did you attempt to poison Lady Siraay?’ His voice was light, polite, and promised death.

The rest of the room stilled.

‘No! I mean, of course not. Why would I?’ But Atalia had started to sweat.

And Siraay was done playing with her prey. She rose from her chair, slow and sure, her grip on her half-filled glass almost strong enough to crack it. She glared across the table into Atalia’s eyes. ‘I know you tried to poison me,’ she accused the female, her voice