The Iron-Jawed Boy and the Hand of the Moon (Book 2, Sky Guardian Chronicles) by Nikolas Lee

she said. “How nice of you...is it... Ronikus ? Ronikus Weaves?”
    Ion tried hard to ignore the sour smell of mead on her breath. “Ionikus Reaves, My Queen.”
    “You know, I’ve heard a number of things about you, Mr. Weaves.” She leaned in and whispered, “Mostly that you have a knack for causing trouble.”
    “What can I say,” Ion replied, forcing a smile, “it follows me wherever I go.”
    In a snap, her smile turned to a frown, her eyes sharp as daggers. “Well, you better have lost it before you got here. Illyria needs no more trouble, boy.” She leaned back, studying him critically. But before Ion could run for the doors, race down the Silken Vale, and jump off the side of Illyria to escape the Queen, she broke out in a small fit of laughter, her mead splashing on the floor. “I’d almost forgotten how much fun it is to tease Guardians your age! Now, Mr. Weaves, I must ask, what do you think of my new look?” she asked as she ran a hand over her bald head.
    Ion hesitated before answering, and in doing so, realized how horrible hesitating was, and then quickly replied, “Yes,” which, of course, didn’t answer the question at all.
    She leaned in once again to whisper, “I had to shave it, you see. It’s a rule here on Illyria. In order to properly mourn a lost child, the mother must keep her head shaved for fifty years. It’s okay—you can be honest. It looks horrible, I know.”
    “No, My Queen,” Ion said. “It looks great! Really.”
    She looked at him suspiciously. “You lie almost as well as she did—Vinya, that is.”
    “ Th -thanks?”
    “I suppose her arguably foolish decision to carry you makes us family now,” said Onyxia. “Yes, I believe I can call you my... grandson , is it?”
    Ugh . Ion had tried so hard to not think about how he now shared blood with these gods. Ignoring it, after all, made talking with Othum a lot easier. The possibility of inheriting the Skylord’s insanity wasn’t the most comforting thought.
    Onyxia took a single cake from the tray. “Well, my new Grandson, I think I’ve had my fun for the day. You may serve the others now.”
    Ion slunk behind Onyxia’s throne, decided she was the worst one-thirds grandma he’d ever had, and took to the space in between Othum and his sister, Lady Nepia, the sole ruler of the seas. Her skin was a light, peaceful ocean of a blue, and the monstrous, webbed fin running from her forehead down her back was laid flat on her flesh—all very different from the last time Ion had seen her. Her skin had been a deep, horribly angry sort of blue then, her now flattened fin a flared sail. She’d nearly summoned the weight of the seas upon Othum that night in the Creator’s Sanctum a year ago. Othum had extended K’thas’s prison term without consent of the other Illyrians and Nepia refused to have any of it.
      Ion propped the tray up to Lady Nepia and slowly her head turned. Her bright blue eyes quickly noted Ion’s jaw, but then lingered on his necklace, where Illindria, her sister, was locked within.
    She looked up from the emerald, said, “No sweets for me, Guardian,” and returned to watching the gods squabble.
    Ion retracted the tray, ignored the sweat on his brow, and turned to Othum. The Skylord was entranced with the argument before him. He was leaning forward in his throne of crystal, fiddling with the turquoise rings around the dreads of his beard. Ion presented the tray, and without even looking, Othum said, “Just a moment, Mr. Reaves.”
    “Are you sure you don’t have a brain of coal to match that ridiculous skin?” Vasheer laughed at Esereez. “The relationship between the Hand and the Moon is like a caring parent to its child—it requires a tenderness that you do not have.”
    But before Esereez could open his mouth to respond, Eos piped in and said, “Brothers, brothers—as much as we’ve all enjoyed your mindless bantering for the past few minutes, I dare say it’s wearing quite thin on