Chapter One
Mina
I watched lights wink in the dusk as the airplane took off and took me away from everyone I knew. I felt like I was leaving behind the person I had always been. That girl was a pet.
I'm a Queen.
I wasn't so sure I trusted Viktor Castella, but I knew one thing: he said he was taking me to see my people. The 'Grandmothers'. He knew I was a Queen and I was determined never to act like a pet around him and let him control me.
Still, it would be nice if I could calm down the jitters in my stomach.
I hoped the Grandmothers could tell me how to use my powers so I didn't melt anyone's brain. Unless, of course, I wanted to melt someone’s brain…
Once we achieved cruising altitude and the lights of New York were quickly disappearing behind us, Viktor went to the bar and said, “You look like you could use something."
Alistair never liked me to drink, so it was weird to be offered. "Yeah, I definitely could."
“Are you a wine drinker, Mina?"
"I'm an everything drinker, honestly."
"Hm. Well, this is an excellent red." He poured me a glass and the first sip blew my mind a little, like I was drinking raspberries and flowers and maybe…leather? Something that tasted sexy.
"Do you have a beer?" Ansel said. "If we're going right to this part of the night?"
"He does, thanks to me," Decker said, rummaging in a small fridge behind Viktor. "I know you're a Guinness man."
"Excellent." Ansel popped the cap on an opener built in to the side of the bar and grinned at me, in a way I think was meant to reassure me.
I could tell Ansel was that kind of guy, one who would try to make a situation comfortable. He seemed so open and friendly, and I desperately needed someone like that, because no one around me was just...easy. I could also tell he was no pushover. He was alert to dangers and still projected confidence, which made me think that he wouldn't be quick to fight, but he could.
"So who's running the country, Vik?" Ansel asked casually.
“Vice President Bellairs, and the cabinet," Viktor said. "Diana is aware of the queens, as is my secretary of state. They know that the only real way to keep Istara safe and bring prosperity is to find the queens."
On the surface, Viktor reminded me of Alistair. They both seemed cold, secretive and emotionally distant.
"Is this your private plane?" I asked Viktor.
"Yes," he said. "I acquired this plane before the presidency...and better to use it now, because this is not presidential business--yet."
"It's nice," I said, because the one thing I could say about Viktor is that he clearly had style. The plane had a luxe 1970s interior, clearly original as it was an older plane, but with newer upholstery in a warm scarlet color and curtains in a red, white and gray op art pattern that complimented the old stuff without getting tacky. It was pretty flashy, almost something a bird would design. He probably just hired a decent bird designer, but Alistair basically lived in a white box of a room with a desk, a computer and a bed, like a robot.
Despite that, I felt a pang already, being away from him. I also felt relief to be free. I wondered if I would ever shake off that confusion...
"So you've been on the hunt for the queens a long time?" Ansel asked.
"I first heard of them in Europe," Viktor said. "As a boy. And I immediately sensed something about the story. It has long been my calling to serve as a queen's consort and bring the three of them together."
"Two down, one to go," Decker murmured.
"And then what? Do we just join hands and a healing rainbow shoots out or...?"
"Something like that," Viktor said, with a bemused look. "First things first."
"No, you can tell me everything now," I said. "If I'm really a queen, shouldn't I know everything I need to know?"
"I'm telling you what the grandmothers told me," he said.
I didn't believe him. But whatever. I'd find a different way around.
"It will be explained in Istanbul," he said, giving me a look that, I hated to say, stirred my loins. I was starting to think I liked older men. Viktor's eyes, and the cadence of his voice, had a quality that made me think he could handle anything life threw at him. I didn't have to know him for ten minutes to know he would never lose control. Considering the crazy life I'd had, even though I didn't trust him, I also thought, I'm not going to die on his watch. He would never let that happen. I can just tell.
If he is really a consort...does that mean I'm going to sleep with him? What would it be like to get naked with someone who reveals so little of himself?
I was both turned on and unsettled, and decided to just sit by the window and enjoy the wine.
After a minute, Ansel sat by me, with his own brand of reassuring presence. He felt like so much less of a stranger, maybe being a fellow bird. Or maybe...could it be more than that?
"Hey, chickadee," he said. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine. I'm used to getting dragged around," I said with a slight eye roll.
"I suppose we're both getting dragged around," he said. "I'm sure Waylon and Frankie can take care of themselves, but..." He ruffled his hair, dyed an artificial but low-key red. Ansel, stylish right up to the point of flashy, looked great in Viktor’s plane. His clothes looked cobbled from vintage markets or thrift stores, but fit him to perfection. He had quick eyes and beautiful hands. Or maybe the other way around. "What a crazy day."
"Who is Waylon? Al said he was researching the queens. Is he Frankie's consort?"
"Oh, yeah," Ansel said. "But he's also my best friend and I don't like leaving him to his own devices. I'm not sure what's more dangerous, his disability or his own stubborn-ass ideas, but I save him from himself a lot."
I was completely intrigued by this idea of male friendship and loyalty, because Alistair was always alone and would never lean on anyone. "How did you meet?"
"Waylon found me at a workhouse. So I owe him too. But he probably owes me more,” he said breezily in a way that made me feel that Waylon and Ansel had a friendly competition about who benefited the other more. “Frankie is way too similar to him. Those two would go over a cliff together without me."
"Oh, you're that important?"
"You might need me still more than Waylon does," Ansel said, after a moment of reflecting on my face. His voice was kind, but serious. I was starting to feel a little funny as I lingered on his face. He was a very pretty man, almost too pretty, but his personality had enough weight to ground his good looks.
"I'm okay," I said, flustered. "Like I said, I'm used to this."
"You shouldn't be though, huh? Anyway, one of my superpowers is making a bad situation fun. I got Waylon out of the house, made him stop hiding out in dark rooms all day. I'm sure we can explore Istanbul a little or something."
"If Viktor lets us go."
"Eh, fuck Viktor," Ansel said.
I grinned at how easily he dismissed the president of Istara. "Okay. What sort of things did you do with Waylon?" Alistair wasn't much for leisure time in general.