Sunny - Mona Lisa Craving

“I’ve already offered for him, Mona Teresa,” said the Queen circling Dante.

“And has he accepted it, Mona Annabella?” Mona Teresa asked with a mocking smile.

“He has not given his answer yet to any of us,” Mona Annabella returned, her dark eyes flashing with spite. “You’re welcome to tender your offer and see how you fare.”

I was a little shocked to hear he had had offers. More than one. What was he waiting for?

“Come away,” Amber urged again, but I could not. I had to watch. Had to know to whom he would go.

Mona Teresa tilted her head. “Join my service, Dante, and I will promise you ten years in my bed.”

She made it sound like a generous offer, making me wonder how long virgin boys usually lasted in a Queen’s bed before she tired of them and moved on to new untried flesh.

“I will consider it,” Dante said in a voice that held no eagerness, no joy. No word of thanks.

The other Queens tittered and Mona Teresa’s eyes flashed. But her voice stayed slitheringly calm, like a snake just before it pumped venom into its prey. “Fifteen years in my bed if you accept my offer now.”

He looked at her with no change in expression, and repeated his words from before. “I will consider it.”

Denial of her offer by his very lack of acceptance.

If he saw Mona Teresa’s dark flush of anger, it concerned him not. All caring seemed to have left him.

“How dare you!” Mona Teresa hissed, fury lacing her words. Lunging at him, she raked her nails down the side of his face.

The apathy left Dante. His features hardened, and his eyes flashed to dangerous silver. Amber and I were both moving forward together as she lunged at Dante again.

A normal young Monère male would have fallen back beneath a Queen’s attack, nothing more than that. Dante was not a typical Monère guy. He had been raised among the humans. He had lived countless lifetimes. And in another time, he had been a warlord of such feared renown that songs had been sung about him and legends told.

Dante didn’t step back or cower under Mona Teresa’s attack. He stood there, and with a simple block of his arm, he swept aside her clawed hands with insulting ease.

The other boys watching gasped as if he had done the unthinkable. And perhaps he had, I don’t know. Maybe there was some stupid law saying that you couldn’t defend yourself against a Queen.

Mona Teresa’s six guards drew their swords and advanced with lethal intent on Dante.

“Stay here,” Amber said urgently, grabbing my arm and dragging me to a halt. “For his sake. And for yours.”

Oh yeah, I’m pregnant, carrying his child…a precious life that he believes to be his chance at breaking the curse. It stopped me as nothing else could have. Satisfied that I was staying put, Amber left me and rushed to Dante’s aid.

I wasn’t used to that. Staying back and being safe when my men were in danger. I cursed myself now for not bringing Tomas, Aquila, and Dontaine along. I had thought to spare Dante’s pride and my own raw nerves.

“Kill him!” Mona Teresa ordered her men. They rushed him and everyone scattered back away from them, all but Quentin. He stayed at his brother’s side. A noble gesture, I thought, but a useless one. Both of them were unarmed.

“Stop,” I yelled, fighting the only way left to me—with words. “You attacked him, Mona Teresa. He merely defended himself.”

“He dared raise his hand against me. Everyone here is witness to that,” Mona Teresa said, almost spitting with outrage. “It is my right to demand his head for that. Kill him! I want him dead.”

“No! He is still mine, under my protection.” But my words did nothing as mere words often did. Only might mattered here.

Amber dived into the melee, his sword drawn, and three of Mona Teresa’s men turned to meet him. The sound of clashing metal filled the air. And it was not just the sound of sword striking against sword, but sword scraping against Dante and Quentin’s bracelet guards. It puzzled the warriors who attacked them for a moment because the metal bands were hidden beneath their shirts. A few block and strikes later, though, the cut cloth gaped open, revealing the wide bracelets hugging Dante’s and Quentin’s wrists.

The two brothers fought one guard apiece. They dodged and twisted lightly on their feet, and the swords either slashed empty air or came up against those deflecting wrist guards. It would have been a mesmerizing thing to see, almost like a graceful, twisting ballet, were it not so deadly in intent, and so unmatched. One sword against six, with Dante and Quentin fighting without weapons. But that I could do something about.

Walking closer to the crowd, I scanned the gathering onlookers, searching specifically for other Queens and their guards. With my strong affinity for silver, I could call any silver dagger to my hand. I could do the same with a sword, though not as easily since swords were rarely silver. No need to be when the main purpose was to cut off your opponent’s head with them—simple steel did that easily enough. For nonsilver weapons, I usually had to familiarize myself first with the taste and smell of them. Amber’s blade had smelled like ancient battle and had tasted like spilled blood. The remembered scent and flavor of it rushed back into my mind, and I focused on two older, more powerful guards, reasoning that their swords would be most like Amber’s.

My palms stretched out, my moles tingled and pulsed. Nothing.

A second throbbing pulse with a deeper, pulling power, and yes! The two swords slid from their scabbards and flew into my hands, hilt-first.

What do you know? It worked.

“Dante! Quentin!” I called, and tossed the swords to them when they turned their faces to me. They leaped, caught the weapons in the air, and landed lightly, spinning back to face their opponents.

Now they were evenly matched, three swords against six. Okay, actually overmatched, with the advantage ours now. But I wasn’t too concerned about being fair, not when Mona Teresa hadn’t sweated it. And talking about that redheaded bitch. She’d drawn her dagger and looked as if she was considering hurling it into Dante’s back, a coward’s blow.

Eyes narrowed, I extended my hand again. Her dagger—it was silver, wasn’t that nice? — flew to me like a bird, coming to rest neatly in my palm.

I tsked. “Nuh-uh-uh. No backstabbing allowed.”

“You unholy mongrel bitch.” Drawing her other dagger, nonsilver, she came at me quickly. I barely had time to think— Should I run? — before she was on me. Okay. I had time to think about it, and do it. But, goddamn it, I didn’t want to run from her. What if I ran and she turned back and buried her blade in one of my men’s backs like the treacherous bitch she was? And she might. Because she knew, as I did, by Dante’s and Quentin’s deft handling of their swords, that her men were outclassed. I, on the other hand, could fight her with impunity by our laws, Queen against Queen. I could even kill her if I needed to, though that was not my intent. I’d caused enough uproar as it was at High Court already. No need to add another Queen’s death to the mess, especially coming so quickly on top of the other one I’d been involved in. Two of them, I think, would be stretching even the Council’s tolerance, Halcyon’s new High Lady of Hell or not. To be on the safe side, I tossed away the silver dagger I’d snatched from Mona Teresa and faced her unarmed. My blade might accidentally-on-purpose bury itself in her black, cowardly heart if I faced her with a tempting weapon in my hand.

She slashed at me quick, like a serpent striking. I twisted to the side and grabbed her hand as it came flying by.