Savage Saints (Monsters of Saint Mark's)

My mind is hovering between two things in this moment. One. She called me her sister, which is not really a surprise because Tarq and I talked about this, but it is jarring. And two. I get that Pell is pissed off, or being protective, or whatever—but what is with this air-shaking, floor-rumbling growl he’s suddenly showing off?

The last time he did this I was coming out of the cathedral after Tomas was taken. And I wasn’t close. But I heard him call for me. His voice was like a quake through the air. A vibration, maybe? I think it might have something to do with his breathy power.

“Well, look at you,” the queen taunts. She stands up—and wow. I thought she was something else when she was sitting. Her full height with those multi-tined antlers almost makes her tower over Pell.

Her throne is situated on a kind of pedestal or something, and even when she takes two steps down, she still feels gigantic and imposing from my perspective.

She saunters—yes, saunters—up to Pell. A smirk on her face, her fingers extended so the tip of her nail is pointing. It’s a claw, I realize. A long white claw that taps Pell on the cheek and then slides along the skin of his jaw as she passes him and redirects her attention to Tarq. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Her posh accent is softer now. Like… is she flirting with my man? What the fuck?

“There is no need,” Tarq says. “This isn’t a social call.”

There is an audible gasp in the room. Some of her guards shift their feet.

I take it Tarq isn’t supposed to be talking back like that.

So I watch the queen as her face almost goes pink. Maybe with embarrassment. But she must be well-schooled in the art and science of aggressive altercations, because that blush fades so quickly, I almost think I imagined it.

“Enough of this. Guards—”

Tarq grabs her by the throat, pulls her in to him, and whispers, “I don’t think so, Callistina,” into her ear. It’s not a subtle whisper, either. We all hear it.

The guards snap to attention and then there are swords, or staffs, or spears pointed at us from all directions. We are surrounded.

“Do it,” Callistina snarls. “Do it and see what happens, dear Tarq. You can’t kill me. I cannot be killed.” Then she looks at me and smiles. “Not even you can end this.”

End what? I wonder. I have no clue what’s happening.

“You will give me those wood nymphs,” Tarq demands. “Or I will have Pie remove you from power, imprison you in the Bottoms, and then I will replace you and rule this kingdom the way you never could.”

“What?” Callistina, Pell, and I all say this at the same time.

Because that was not the plan. I’m not even sure what he said.

But also, I’m thinking… that was a good burn!

Tarq shoots me a look. “You don’t need to keep it a secret anymore, Pie. It’s done. It’s out. Everyone knows who you are.”

Except for me, I don’t add.

“She is no one,” Callistina barks. It’s almost a laugh. “She is the discarded sister.” Her eyes dart to mine, Tarq’s large, clawed hand around her throat seemingly of no consequence. “They threw you away, Pianna.”

“Oh, gross,” I mutter. “Don’t call me that. My name is Pie.”

“They threw you away and never even bothered to tell you. Just wiped your mind, set you loose amongst those lowly, pathetic humans. With no magic, and your beastly royal blood so contaminated, there would be no chance of you amounting to anything.”

“Well,” I say. “That escalated quickly. Look. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. There is no point in getting mean. I’m not Pianna, I’m Pie. I’m not your sister, and I’m not here for you. I’m here for him.” I hike a thumb towards Tarq. “He wants his wood nymphs—”

“Oh, does he?” The queen’s laugh bursts through the room, echoing off the high ceilings.

“Where are they?” Tarq asks.

“Oh, they’re fine. I would never hurt a hair on their heads. You, on the other hand…” She narrows her eyes at me, even though she’s talking to Tarq. “Him,” she growls. “He’s the one who hurts them. And he can blame me all he wants. It’s simply not true. I do nothing with those girls.”

“Except profit off their death.” This comes from Pell and once again, the room vibrates with his words.

What is going on with him?

The queen laughs again. “But isn’t that the point of death?” And once again, she’s looking at me. “I profit off all death, dear Pianna. Even yours.”