Exported [Book 3 in the Expiring Series]

35 Third Party

"My . . . distant relatives, I assure you." She smiles. "My great great grandfather was the brother of Kilo Clarignon." Kilo was Tresais in the head order of Amoria. Besides having an illustrious political career, he built a palace on the sea of Falia—a palace which happens to be my father's favorite vacationing spot on Amoria.

"This"—she motions to the other woman who steps forward—"is my Tresais: Isabeau Abigné."

I bow. "You must allow me to introduce my Beta and Digamma. Colton, Bently."

I hear the soft plodding against cobblestones that alerts me to their proximity. I could call Erik my Tresais. No. I'm certain she knows more about me than I do about her. Then again, I really know nothing about her. But she'll definitely know Gwen is my Tresais.

Colton steps into place beside me, and Bently stands next to Iris.

"My Beta and Digamma."

"Both destined to live long lives," Abigné says after looking into their eyes.

"And what of you, Preeminence?" Clarignon asks. "Don't tell me you still adhere to that old tradition of hiding your Expiration Date in shame."

I take extra care to avoid their gazes. "It is a tradition that all Preeminences partake in."

Her nostrils flare.

"What are you doing here, Preeminence Clarignon?" Iris asks, her tone careful.

"Odette, please." She smiles tenderly at Iris as if she were beholding her most treasured possession. "And were you not looking for me? That is what I was told."

"Told?" Bently's voice is clipped.

Doors on either side of the street open, and at least thirty men and women, holding guns, step through them.

All these Amoris have been in France? For how long? The Orders on Amoria can't possibly know, not with Odette claiming to be a Preeminence and Isabeau a Tresais. It was challenging enough to get them to approve of Gwen as my Tresais.

"Now, Preeminence." She steps closer until she is only a foot or so away. "I want France, and if the Society would help us, I know this whole matter could be settled quickly."

"The French are our allies. They helped us win our country."

"If they learned of your ancestry, they would turn on you. Is that not why you've yet to tell them who you are or what you are?" She runs her hand over my left arm. The burning does not flare up, but the hairs on the back of my neck rise. "The Amorians have more claim to you than these humans."

Iris's hand locks around Odette's wrist, pulling it away from me. "The Society will never side with you."

Odette's fingers curl, and Iris lets go.

The Amoris with guns draw closer, forcing the rest of Iris's group out from behind the crates.

"I will give you one last chance, Preeminence Blackwood," Odette says. "Can your fiancée really survive this going poorly?"

Iris places her hand on her back pocket. "Don't worry about me."

Guns click. Both Colton and Bently have pulled theirs out.

"It's like you said"—Iris draws hers out as well—"we were looking for you."

Odette tilts her head. "Aren't you afraid, Raggioet?"