“I know very little about fey history,” he admitted.
“Few of us do.” Cyn returned his attention to the box. “Before Morgana le Fey declared herself Queen of the Fairies they tended to be a secretive race.”
Roke made a sound of disbelief. “I never thought I would hear secretive and fey in the same sentence.”
“I said secretive, not shy,” Cyn corrected. “I assume they were the same flamboyant exhibitionists in the privacy of their courts.”
Roke had, of course, heard of the rumors of the fabulous fey courts that had long ago disappeared, although there had never been tangible proof they were more than legends.
“Why were they secretive?”
“The Chatri—”
“Chatri?” Roke interrupted.
“The original rulers of the fey. They considered themselves above the lesser demons.”
“All demons considered themselves above other demons,” Roke pointed out in dry tones.
“No shit,” Sally added.
Cyn turned the box upside down, as if searching for a clue to its origins.
“The ancient fey took it to the extreme.”
“How extreme?”
“Eventually they closed off their courts from the world.”
That would explain why no one had proof of them, but it seemed a radical decision even for the fickle fey.
“They abandoned their own people?”
Cyn gave a lift of his shoulder. “Only they know the truth, but from the information I could gather I suspect that they considered themselves above the lesser fey.”
Roke considered the large number of fey that populated the earth.
“That’s taking elitism to the extreme.”
Cyn gave an absent nod. “A decision that left the fey in this world vulnerable once Morgana le Fey took command.”
Roke grimaced. Morgana le Fey had been a brutal leader, not to mention a sadistic bitch, who’d held hundreds of fairies and Sylvermysts as her sexual slaves.
“Nature detests a vacuum,” he said.
Cyn glanced up, the jade eyes shimmering with curiosity. “Yes, which makes me wonder what sort of power struggle is going on in the fey world now. Do you suppose—”
“Does any of this explain what’s written on the box?” Sally broke into their conversation, her expression tight with frustration.
Roke turned, reaching to grasp her hand. “Sorry, we have a mutual fascination with the past.”
Cyn snorted. “Even if you’re completely wrong about the contributing factors leading up to the troll wars.”
Sally didn’t look particularly interested in the troll wars. In fact, she looked like she wanted to thump both of them with a big stick.
“I’m a little more concerned with the future.”
Roke nodded toward the box. “Cyn?”
The large vampire held out the box to point toward the glyphs that flowed across the lid.
“I can only decipher a few of the glyphs. This stands for king.” His finger outlined a spiral with two dots in the center. “This is . . . door. An open door.”
The symbol was similar to current fey glyphs. “A portal?”
“That would be my guess.” Cyn moved his finger to the next glyph. “It’s followed by a closed door. Like a prison.”
“Maybe it’s the story of the Chatri’s retreat in this world,” Roke suggested.
Cyn frowned. “Perhaps.”
Roke followed his friend’s gaze to the bottom of the lid where his finger was tracing a symbol resembling a face.
“What?”
“This looks like the word for people, but . . .” The finger moved to a swirling line. “This is mist or fog. Mist people?” Cyn glanced at Roke. “Does that mean anything to you?”
Roke shook his head. “No. Wait—”
A small fragment of memory floated at the edge of his mind. Some piece of research he’d found in an obscure book about demons on the edge of extinction.
Before the memory could fully form there was a sharp knock on the door and Bliss’s voice penetrated through the thick wood.
“Roke, I need to speak with you.”
Roke yanked a dagger from the sheath at his lower back, not missing the edge of urgency in the female vampire’s voice.
Glancing toward Cyn, he waited for the male to give a grudging nod, shifting his bulk between the door and the baffled Sally.
Whatever Cyn’s feelings toward witches, he’d just agreed to fight to the death to protect her.
With his dagger clutched in his hand, Roke opened the door just far enough to slip into the hallway, firmly closing it behind him.
“What?” he demanded, frowning at Bliss before his gaze slid over her shoulder to spot the dozen nymphs who were kneeling at the end of the hall. “Shit. What the hell is going on?”
“Like I know?” Bliss waved scarlet-tipped fingers toward the mixture of male and female fey who had rapt expressions on their beautiful faces. “One minute the club was running smoothly and the next I find half my staff kneeling in the hall.”
“What do they want?”
“They won’t say. They kneel there like they’ve been enchanted.” Bliss deliberately glanced toward the closed door. “Or more likely, bewitched.”
Roke’s protective instincts roared to high gear. This wasn’t just some random coincidence.
Sally.
“Do you have a back exit?”
Bliss narrowed her eyes, clearly offended by the question.
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
Sally covertly put some space between herself and the behemoth of a vampire.
She was female enough to acknowledge he was a dazzlingly gorgeous behemoth. If a female enjoyed golden-haired warriors with eyes like jade and massive muscles. She happened to prefer slender, raven-haired men with mesmerizing silver eyes....
Wait. No.
The point was, that while Cyn possessed more than his fair share of male beauty, he was also a bloodthirsty predator. And he obviously blamed her for mating Roke against his will.
The more space between them the better.
She’d reached the edge of the fire pit when the door was opened and Roke entered with the floozy female vampire.
Her fingers twitched, the urge to toss a spell that would shrivel Bliss’s pale, perfect features like a prune nearly irresistible.
Thankfully, her inner bitch was distracted as Roke stepped toward her, his expression grim enough to warn her that he didn’t have good news.
Not that she was surprised.
She couldn’t remember the last time there had been any good news to share.