Beautiful Torment *Book One of the Beautiful series*

38) Priestess Artemisia

Lucy paused mid bite, looking first to the prince and then to her mother, before finally setting her sights on the woman who had spoken. She recognized the dark skinned, blue eyed witch as the Priestess's most valued attendant.

Compared to the smaller tents around it, the High Priestess' felt enormous. Though made of the same various animal hides with a hole in the top for fire smoke, the space was vast, tall enough to accommodate Alexander's six foot frame. Despite all this, the first thing Lucy noted was the tent's oppressive heat and pungent smell of Nepta and sage. The latter hung in drying clumps from the top of the tent, to what end, the girl could not be sure. Soft wolf pelts lined the floor and crude pillows were placed in a circle around the fire.

Through the smokey mist, Lucy caught sight of the priestess sitting with their back to them on the far side. Lucy felt, rather than saw, the attendant slip in through the tent flap behind Alexander. The tall woman cleared her throat. "As you requested, Priestess Artemisia."

The priestess raised up a hand, indicating that the woman was free to leave them. From a perch near her side, Lucy spotted two glowing eyes, a sharp yellow, come open. The great horned owl, massive in size, stirred, stretching its impressive wings before shooting them an indignant look. Lucy got the feeling that, like most animals here, the creature was more than it seemed. Likely Artemisia's familiar.

Alexander, behind her, shifted uneasily as the priestess rose gracefully to her feet. Her long cloak, a shade of purple midnight, pooled around her. She moved its hood back to uncover her head of striking black hair before turning to face them. Eyes strikingly similar to her pet's settled on the young prince, chilling Lucy with a feeling of uncertainty, despite not being the subject of her gaze's scrutiny. "You may sit," she said, gesturing to the pillows around the fire. Her voice was a deep ethereal sound that vibrated through Lucy's bones. The sound seemed to force her down to one of the smaller pillows in front of her without realizing she was already doing it.

The prince on the other hand took a minute before he too was reluctantly kneeling beside his woman, instead of standing protectively over her. The moment his knees hit the cushion, the wide haunting gaze of the priestess snapped to him, watching him with something Lucy could not decipher.

"You do not trust me." There was a faint echo as she spoke, as if the powerful aura around her mimicked her words.

"Can you blame me?" he asked with a venomous tone, "Thanks to your kind, thousands of Dragon eggs were destroyed in a fit of revenge."

Despite the harsh accusation, Priestess Artemisia simply lifted a single brow at him, "I do not blame you for the actions of your predecessor; resulting in the slaughter of millions of 'my kind'." Her mystical tone was free of emotion, "Do not hold me responsible for the actions of covens I do not control."

Lucy shivered, her tone holding no menacing intent, but she could not help but fear the woman opposite of them on the other side of the warm fire.

Alexander stiffened into stone at the mention of his grandfather, King Mitus, grinding his teeth together before giving her a nod. "What do you want from us?" he asked in a rough growl, reaching over and absentmindedly pulling Lucy closer to him.

"From you, Alexander," it was not until then did the Priestess look at the young girl, studying her, right along with the bird of prey on its perch behind her. Lucy shrunk into his side, too afraid to meet the witch's eyes. "I wish to know what you will do," even though she spoke to him, her eyes never left Lucy, "Now that the girl's father, Endon, is in your home." Measuring Lucy's reaction to the next words out of her mouth, "The dark god of chaos."

"How do you...?" she started but a screech from the owl silenced her, making her flinch. Alexander had no issues tightening his arm around her, providing a sense of security against the foreboding feeling creeping in.

"I see many things," she leaned closer to the flames which cast what appeared to be living shadows over her expression, "Little Flame." The woman was studying her, harder than anyone else before had, like she was looking into Lucy's soul. "Prince Alexander?" She shifted her gaze to him, and where Lucy thought this might allow her to relax more, it had the opposite effect. She hated the priestess' eyes on her dragon more than she hated them on herself.

A rumble in his chest vibrated against his woman's side, "I am going to kill him."

Placing her hands in front of her, Artemisia pushed herself to her feet in a single graceful movement, folding her hands together into the sleeves of her robe. "An ambitious move for a man with no army," she mocked, turning her back on them to approach her familiar. "If you think you can surprise him with an attack," reaching up, she stroked the dark feathers with a single finger, the creature leaned into the contact as much as Bea did to Sabrina, "Then you are far more reckless than a leader should be." The fire crackled between them, sending a small shower of sparks into the air, only to be carried out with the swirls of smoke.

If Lucy had not been leaning against him, he would have shot to his feet as anger bubbled up on his face, hot and alive. But for the first time in his life, it was not hard to push it down and control the beast that slithered just under his skin. "Do not presume to know anything about me, witch," he bared his teeth at her, soft rolls of smoke slipping from his nostrils in warning.

When Artemisia laughed, it was a sound that seemed to steal all humor from the air, leaving it cold, despite the fire blazing right in front of them. "I know you better than you could ever know yourself, little prince."

Clutching Lucy closer to him when she began shivering, he gritted his teeth in anger, hating having let his little Flame be uncomfortable for this long. "Just get to the point, Priestess," he hissed out her title almost like a snake. He rose to his feet, bringing Lucy along with him, prepared to remove her from the witch's presence instead of continuing her twisted game of cat and mouse.

"If you were to collect allies to fight at your side," she turned just enough to glance at them over her shoulder, "It could perhaps sway fate in your favor." When she faced them full on, her owl leaned forward to preen strands of her hair with its powerful beak.

Alexander was silent for several seconds, not cringing under the weight of her unsettling gaze. "Are you suggesting a truce?" His tone was something similar to what she had heard him use in the palace court, when he was acting part as crown prince to his father's ambassadors and generals.

"I can only speak for my coven, not for the entirety of my race," she held her head high, gaze fierce but open, "when I say that we will stand with you, Dragon King."

Regardless of if he had been exiled by his stepmother, or had his throne stolen by Endon, Alexander was the true heir to the crown. Anyone who was loyal to his family would acknowledge that he was now the rightful king of Espen.