The Immortal Queen Tsubame: Awakening (19 page)

“From what I’ve heard of Miss Samara, she has no interest in the power the Magic Council or any of the magic families could give her. She broke up with the heir of the Long Clan, and you travel all the way to her home in the states because she won’t answer your summons,” Tsubame said. That fact was common knowledge and caused scandal in the magical community, and it was one of the first things Tsubame overheard about the girl from the families when they first arrived for the peace talks.

Tsubame continued, “That said, it does seem like a little bit of a stretch for her to suddenly want to get involved with a council representative and go through the trouble of attempted murder in order to broaden her reach in the magical world when she could have stayed involved with the Long heir. Not to mention Miss Samara and Council Representative Brant were involved long before this crisis. However, since you know Miss Samara better than I do, I could be wrong about. But it doesn’t make sense to me.”

The old councilman responded promptly, “She can see the future.”

Tsubame pressed her lips together harder. Finally she said, “Oh can she?”

“About as well as I could read the newspaper,” the man replied.

Tsubame doubted it. She could see the immediate future about as well as the man could read the paper if she wanted. Immediate being the next five minutes or so. She could see a little further with limited concentration, but futures more than three or four months in the future took meditation, a concentration on the innate connection she had with the universe that made her the sorceress she was. To see more than six months, almost a year into the future, down to every minute action that would lead to a certain outcome or event took much more than that. She doubted a little girl who had barely used her magic for six years could see that far that easily, no matter how much potential she had. But now wasn’t the time to reveal that she was well aware of all that either. For the moment, she decided not to argue.

“So what do we do now?” Tsubame asked tightly.

“We question the girl. Try to get a confession out of her,” Hou Min said.

“And if she doesn’t confess,” Tsubame asked.

“We trap her in her lies,” Anya replied. “I’ll go summon the girl.”

“Surely you aren’t planning on questioning the girl tonight?” Tsubame suddenly interjected. “It could take hours and though I made sure to be at this meeting, I’d rather face the girl fully refreshed.”

“She’s right,” said the Long matriarch who was representing the Long family in lieu of her heir. “We’ll summon her in the morning.”

That said, the group dispersed and Tsubame swept out the room, her maids following behind her. Under less suspicious circumstances, she would have promptly made her way to warn the girl. A scandal wouldn’t ruin her chances of becoming a prodigy, but it would certainly make things a lot more difficult than they had to be, possibly setting back her plan years. Hopefully, the events she had set in motion to have the girl walking to her waiting hands worked much faster than she intended it to.

20

MaLeila didn’t care much about politics. She understood politics, knew how to navigate the political atmosphere if she needed to thanks to years of navigating the political climate of the magical world, but the things that made politicians and people who really cared about that kind of stuff lose their shit didn’t bother MaLeila, didn’t make her apprehensive about the consequences because those consequences only really ever affected those with power they wanted to keep. And though MaLeila was certainly powerful magically, she had no political or economic clout to speak of so she was never directly affected by the turmoil of the magical world.

Something—nothing she could pinpoint magically, just a feeling—told her that this time wouldn’t be the case. So when Marcel came into the room looking a mixture between tired and exasperated, MaLeila stood up from where she was sitting on the bed and demanded, “What’s going on?”

Marcel shrugged as he sat on the bed, took off his shoes, and began to undo his suit jacket and tie.

MaLeila pressed her lips together. Since Fathi’s poisoning, Bastet and Marcel both practically commanded Devdan to take her back to her room and come back. MaLeila was ordered to stay in the room until one of them came to get her. Normally, she nor Devdan were good at taking direct orders, especially Devdan unless they were in the heat of a fight. But like Devdan said, they were in a fight that didn’t require fists, at least not yet. And the first rule of their fights was only to put MaLeila in the heat of the danger if they absolutely had to or until she was absolutely sure she had a solution. MaLeila had no solution to this fight though and now she was restless and someone was going to tell her something.

“Don’t start treating me like Devdan and Bastet. Tell me what’s going on?” she snapped.

“I really don’t know,” Marcel grumbled. “They won’t tell me anything. They’re having some damn meeting tomorrow. It’s so important one of the head council members is coming in tomorrow to undoubtedly help find a scapegoat to cover their asses.”

“Where are Bastet and Devdan?”

“At the hospital making sure that whoever poisoned Fathi doesn’t try to finish him off,” Marcel replied. “Everything’s up in the air right now and there’s really nothing either of us can do about.”

“Do you think it could have been Tsubame?” MaLeila asked.

Marcel huffed as he took off his undershirt and said, “I doubt she would have gone through the trouble of getting in the guy’s bed only to off him at this point. She would have benefitted more from waiting for him to marry her or something. As it is though, she’s probably figured out a way to work this to her advantage.”

The casualness with which he spoke about Tsubame took MaLeila back to the conversation she had with Devdan right before the chaotic aftermath of Fathi’s poisoning. Before she would have brushed off the casualness, the nonchalant matter-of-fact way he referred to Tsubame, like he was used to dealing with her. It was the same tone Devdan used when she did something that used to bother him but that he had long since accepted as something she would just do. MaLeila pressed her lips together as she recalled Devdan’s advice to her.

“You sound so sure of that. Almost like you know Tsubame,” she said dryly.

“I told you I’ve dealt with people like her before. It’s not their style.”

That was probably true, but what he still wasn’t outright saying was that he didn’t know Tsubame. It was a tactic Devdan used on people. Make them focus on what he did say but not what he didn’t. It covered his bases in case someone wanted to call him a liar later. You couldn’t be called a liar if you didn’t lie.

“So you do know her?” MaLeila pressed eyes boring into his now bare back.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you won’t say you don’t.”

“MaLeila, I really don’t want to talk about your suspicion that I know Tsubame right now,” Marcel said dryly.

“We don’t have to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to know if you know her or not or even knew her and you’re not giving me a straight answer.”

Marcel stood up and turned to face her. He rolled his eyes and said, “How much more of a straight answer do you need. I said--.”

“I know what you said,” MaLeila yelled without meaning too, but her heart was racing and the voice in the back of her head that sounded a lot like Devdan kept whispering something that sounded more and more like the truth the more Marcel tried to dance around it. In a quieter, but strained voice she repeated. “I know what you said. But it’s what you’re not saying that makes the difference. So yes or no. Do you know Tsubame?”

While she waited on him to answer, she searched his eyes and when he was silent, she found the answer in his eyes that he wouldn’t say with his mouth.

“Fuck,” she whispered as the realization hit her.

“MaLeila,” Marcel said taking a step towards her.

MaLeila started to take a step back and then her eyes landed on Marcel’s chest where his family crest hung from a chain on his neck. Until now she hadn’t paid it much attention, but Tsubame had inspected it and suddenly MaLeila wondered why. She stepped back forward and grabbed the pendant, inspecting the piece of gold jewelry for the first time. A sun with a new crescent moon and star tucked into it.

“Fuck,” she said again, dropping the pendant and starting to back away before turning all the way around and heading for the door.

Marcel managed to get in front of it first and MaLeila was sure magic was involved because she hadn’t felt him brush by her. With him standing between her and the exit, MaLeila had no choice but fight him as he tried to approach her.

“Move out the way,” she loudly, not particularly caring if someone heard her. Good. Let them.

“Would you just listen for a moment?” Marcel asked grabbing her by her biceps.

“No,” MaLeila said as muscle memory kicked. A few years ago one of their many foes managed to temporarily bind all their magic and would have killed MaLeila with her bare hands had not Devdan stepped in with his gun and blown the woman’s brains out. After her and Devdan’s initial argument over the incident, after which the two spent days not talking, he personally spent months teaching her efficient fighting techniques, some that many people would consider dirty. His response when she said that was that it became dirty the moment someone started a fight. She went back and forth between sometimes liking him and begrudgingly hating him back then, but now she was glad he forced her into it.

She brought up her knee, going for Marcel’s groin. He grabbed her knee to stay it but let go of one of her arms. She used her free arm to jab Marcel in the face. Obviously he was used to taking a hit or two because although he let go he acted like he didn’t feel her punch and proceeded to block her arm when it came again. He twisted her arm to force her to turn her back to him and then grab her in a bear hug around her elbows and waist, lifting her off the ground.

“MaLeila,” he began as he walked them over towards the bed, but she didn’t let him get any further. He had her off the ground which meant she couldn’t use her legs and her arms were locked, but since their heads were level, she tried a backwards headbutt.

Marcel saw it coming and let her slip down in his grasp so her head butted his chest instead. Now that her feet were on the ground though, MaLeila shifted the center of her weight and used his tight grp around her as leverage to flip him over her shoulder onto the bed. It didn’t work like she anticipated. Instead of him also losing his grip on her, which would have given her a chance to bolt for the door while he reoriented himself, Marcel managed to keep some of his grip on her and bring her tumbling with him. His grip was lose enough to break free of him though and she thought she had gotten away temporarily before he grabbed her again. Then he flipped them over on the bed so that he was sitting on her hips. He grabbed her by both her wrists and pinned them to the bed.

MaLeila struggled against him in vain, and Devdan hadn’t taught her a technique to get out of this kind of pin. And though he had taught her that when she was attacked or grabbed that she shouldn’t resist the attack but instead go with the flow of it to reduce injury and come back with an attack of her own, she wasn’t sure how to do that in this case. She was effectively trapped, but she didn’t want to resort to magic yet.

“Let me go,” she said.

“Listen.”

“No.”

“Well you’ve got no choice.”

“How do you know Tsubame?”

“My entire life… well not really but it may as well have been at this point,” Marcel said, not at all letting his guard down and loosening his grip on her.

“That doesn’t even matter. You’re obviously part of her plan. She killed Fathi. You knew she wanted me and you brought me to her,” MaLeila said still struggling against him. “You used me.”

“She didn’t kill Fathi. And I didn’t even know you were part of her plan. I don’t even know what her plan is,” Marcel said that same dry and knowing tone he always used when he talked about Tsubame.

“Then how are you so sure about what she has and hasn’t done.”

“Because even though most of the time I don’t know her plan unless she tells me in some way form or another, which she couldn’t have this time around because I haven’t seen her in over a year, didn’t even know where she was until we saw her on the news that day, I know her style. And something like poison is way too simple for her. She likes taking the credit for the things she’s done. She likes everyone to know what she’s done and what she’s getting up to and then doing it in a way that she can’t get in trouble for it. Poisoning Fathi and trying to pin it on the council doesn’t have enough flare. Trust me. She didn’t do it.”

MaLeila huffed and turned her head to look away from him.

“You expect me to trust you on this when all you’ve done is lie to me and use me for Tsubame’s sake for the past few months. Sure. I’ll certainly trust you,” MaLeila drawled sarcastically.

“I didn’t use you,” Marcel snapped.

Unfazed, MaLeila rolled her eyes.

“Look at me,” Marcel demanded.

He was the last person she was going to be taking any orders from, but MaLeila had never seen Marcel so beside himself because of something. Obviously she’d struck a nerve, so she turned her head back to look at him. His jaw was set and his eyes were hard and lacked the warmth that was usually there when she was in his presence.

“I didn’t use you,” he said again.

“Then I think we have different definitions of the word,” MaLeila growled.

“If I had wanted to use you, if I just wanted to add you to a list of names and faces I don’t remember, you would have known. And if Tsubame had wanted you from the beginning, trust me when I say that she would have had you a long time,” Marcel said.

Though MaLeila wanted to look away from him, she held his gaze unfalteringly. Then, after a few moments Marcel’s hard expression changed to one of exasperated weariness. He sighed and let her arms go and got off her hips. Still, he sat on the edge of the bed in a way that if MaLeila tried to dart way, he’d be able to trap her again. So she simply sat up, waiting for Marcel to come off his guard so she could dart away.

“What does Tsubame want with you anyway?” Marcel asked.

“You’re the one who knows so much about Tsubame. You tell me what the evil queen hell bent on world domination wants with me.”

Marcel laughed and replied, “You think that’s all there is to it. That this is all as black and white as Tsubame is just like all the other delusional quacks that’s you’ve had to take down and stop from ripping tears in other dimensions and accidently destroying earth? That’s terribly naïve.”

“Then what is Tsubame?”

“What is the Magic Council?”

MaLeila started to answer him, but then closed her mouth. As far as she had always been concerned, the Magic Council was a minor annoyance, always pestering her about her magic; the misguided elders stuck in their old ways and trying to make her conform to their silly traditions by any means possible even if it put her in danger, all for the greater good of the magical world and herself. But more and more lately she had seen that the Magic Council was much more than that. Manipulating nations if their negotiations with Fathi were anything to go by; constantly at a back and forth tug of war with the most powerful magic families for power and using who they needed to in order to get it under the great noble cause of keeping the magical world in order because no one else could or would do it. Very similar to Tsubame if she were honest. Seeing his point, MaLeila closed her mouth.

“At least Tsubame’s honest about her intentions. Manipulative, but honest. And it’s about time someone knocked the Magic Council and the other families off their supposedly eternally shared throne.”

“Not like this,” MaLeila said.

“Then how?”

“I… I don’t know. But this is wrong.”

“Says who?” Marcel asked. “Says Bastet? Says the same people who groomed her to think that way, to act like sheep, who said it was being the bigger person, that it made more of a statement to not fight back? Who do you think put that idea out there? Who do you think spreads this supposed idea that you can destroy hate and wickedness with peace and love? Why do you think they let people know about Ghandi and Martin Luther King’s idea of non-violence and why people haven’t forgotten it? Why they villainize anyone willing to fight them and go against the grain… kind of like they villainize you?”