[ Fantasy / Romance / Book 1 ] In Pyxis, a city of fairies at the icy border of civilization, Queen Andromeda intends to reach into the modern world of humans and kill everyone associated with her ex-husband, Scott MacRae, the King of the Unworthy...
The only chill Queen Andromeda Sauvageau ever felt was in her heart.
On this particular night, she was alone in her bathing chamber and in a foul mood. When she had entered her bath, it had been as scorching hot as her fair skin could tolerate, yet she was indifferent to the clamminess that had crept in amid the softening bubbles and fine oils. No matter how long she had been soaking, she could not wash from her mind the wingless abomination she considered the King of the Unworthy. When she lifted a handheld mirror to her face, it was as if his reflection were there alongside hers . . . laughing, laughing, laughing. . . .
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When she was unable to tolerate her appearance any longer, she flung the mirror across the room. It shattered into pieces, some as fine as grains of sand. Her unmatched beauty would never return. And only his death would restore her dignity.
A light tapping suspended her revenge fantasy.
Andromeda's personal attendant was quick to respond and questioned the irritant through a crack in the door.
Lyra, one of her chambermaids, was granted access. With white fairy wings well-accustomed to Andromeda's demands, she flew inside and landed next to the trickling cascade beside the queen's head, her chest heaving. "Your Excellency, I'm sorry to interrupt. . ."
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Andromeda watched the sweet young servant bite her lip and wring her hands around the rag she was holding. She loved making others uncomfortable with just her stare, and Lyra was among the most susceptible.
Lyra finally lifted her chin and found her tongue. "General Gustave said there is an urgent matter to discuss. He wishes to see you immediately."
At Andromeda's nod, Lyra left the room.
Andromeda assumed this unscheduled session would be a waste of her time, an encroachment on her much-desired solitude. Nevertheless, she stepped out of her bath and summoned her servants, who swarmed to her. Andromeda's personal attendant retrieved her gown and draped it around her shoulders while two other servants swept up the broken splinters of the mirror. Another pair fussed with her shadow-colored wings, detangling the feathery edges and bringing the translucent black scales to a lustrous finish.
