Chapter Eleven

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As Lady Tyrn's servant slowly led the way toward the southwest wing, he had some time to think. The more he thought back over all that had happened the past week, the more unanswered questions he found.

Most of the questions regarded the recent attacks by the Darklings and their motives. He knew from past experience that everything had a motive, even if it wasn't human. Weather it be hunger, power, money, or any one of the primal needs, there was always something that made someone tick.

Looking back on the first attack, the Darklings were organized and dedicated to their cause. Articus didn't know if he could think of the Darklings as humans, but, from what he had gathered so far, it was hard not to think of them otherwise.

They knew whom to strike, and that meant intelligence. Not only that but coordinating the attacks on both Nicolas and the Head Mistress also meant there was a leader behind them.

It still didn't add up to Articus. If Darklings just appeared out of the sky, how did they get from a farmer's field to be part of an organized attack against a powerful enemy? He knew there was something missing, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Perhaps the Darklings could control where the hole would open up next.

That thought mad him shutter.

Their small group rounded the last corner of the Ring, and they came to the entrance of the southwest wing. Two Devotees were stationed at the mouth of the corridor, both looking bored. Upon seeing their guide, they stepped aside for them to pass.

A few spans farther down, they came to a door guarded by two Bloods. Unlike the Devotees, they were dangerously alert. Articus could tell who they were by the red tear drop shaped tattoo on the back of one of the soldier's hands.

Seeing Articus, they gave a series of knocks to the door before stepping aside for the small group. He wasn't surprised that the two privates didn't salute him. In the Blood, chain of command was different. Even if General Briar had accompanied them, they still wouldn't have shown respect.

He expected Mia to stay outside but she kept to his side, for which he was grateful. Articus thought his muscles had finally stopped changing, but he didn't want to risk falling on his face in front of the heir to the Ce'l Throne.

Their guide led them through a small room just inside the entrance that housed four more Bloods.

"Sir, I'll have to ask you to hand over your weapons," said a man who had the golden stripe of a Legate pinned to his shoulders.

Articus removed his da'kka, his sword, and the two dart knives he had hidden on himself. The soldier's eyebrows rose at the later in silent surprise. He knew they wouldn't have caught them even if they had patted him down, and he wanted to give the Blood a smirk but thought better of it.

With a nod to the servant, they filed passed the guards.

The Ce'lian servant asked them to wait there and walked off through another door. They waited patiently until a woman appeared in servant livery.

"My Lady will have you now, Centurion." she said with a low curtsey.

They followed her into the next room, which was another waiting room, but bigger--much bigger.

The Lady Tyrn came in just as they did from yet another room. She wasn't drop dead gorgeous like all the women he had seen lately, but she was pretty. Just a few inches shorter than Mia, Tyrn looked as tall as he. Something about her stance reminded him of Guinavev.

"Centurion Articus Lykos, we finally meet," the Lady Tyrn said.

Articus released Mia and bowed deeply. He caught Mia from the corner of his eye follow his example. She gracefully made an impossibly deep curtsied before grabbing Articus's unsteady body.

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