FIFTY-SEVEN
Sylvan Castle
Queen Calliope the first of Pandemonia and All Hells.”
The liveried herald announced her in a booming voice that carried throughout the court.
Lila loved how quiet the crowd got. Only the sound of the fountains could be heard. The scent of roses and candlewax permeated the opulent throne room.
The last time she’d been here, Saetth had cast her out for a crime she’d had no part of. At least now she intended a coup. Even better, she was in charge of her own political plot.
Courtiers and attendees parted for her as she made her way toward the throne dais, cradling her scepter. The tall fey males wore formal suits and the customary sword belts. The willowy females were clad in airy pastel gowns and glittering jewels.
They all stared at Lila, a royal wearing such a brazen dress—and a devil’s crown.
She spotted her cousins. They were gathered like hyenas off to one side, wide-eyed with shock to see her. She gave them a chin jerk in greeting.
As she took in faces, she recognized the shallowness of this extravagant affair. Lila knew make-believe when she saw it. Compared to so much superficiality, her existence with Abyssian felt rich and deep.
Already rooted.
But had it been? He’d called her the queen of nothing.
Should she believe his behavior this morning—or his tenderness toward her over the days and nights of their short marriage?
Now that her anger was cooling, she could so clearly recall the look on his face when he’d handed her the diamond.
That freaking demon was in love with her. He’d been lashing out—which he had a bad habit of doing—to hurt her.
He’d left her to rot in a dungeon, and he’d lied so convincingly. How could she ever trust anything he said?
Focus, Lila. She refused to let Abyssian break her heart and ruin her one-woman revolution.
If she lived through the next half hour, she might dissect her relationship with him and figure out whether anything could be salvaged between them.
That was a big if.
Across the room, Saetth came into view. He sat upon his throne, flanked by guards and a collection of fawning courtiers. Attired in a taupe formal suit, he wore his scabbard and replacement sword. His golden crown perched securely upon his head.
His narrowed gaze took in Lila’s own crown and dress.
Trying to appear relaxed—her plan and her life depended on convincing Saetth that she was all-powerful—she called to him, “My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail. Because I know you wouldn’t be searching for a queen when you’ve already promised me the position.”
His lips curled. “How many husbands does my greedy cousin desire? I heard you wed the king of hell, but could scarcely believe it. Even more surprising is your arrival here. How dare you enter my kingdom before I’ve lifted your exile?”
“I dare easily. Since you set me up. Do you deny it?”
His smile was no longer handsome, just sinister. “Not at all. You’re a traitor to the crown, just like your parents.”
“Not to the crown. In fact, I’ve come to collect it from you.”
Amusement. “Have you, then? You and your demon spouse? You forget my castle is mystically protected against any and all Møriør. He’ll never make it past the barrier.”
“No, it’s only me. I seized Abyssian Infernas’s kingdom—just as I’ll seize yours.”
“I confess I’m intrigued. Why would you ever believe you could best me?”
Because I learned trickery from a master. “Because I was anointed by hellfire as the true Queen of Pandemonia. Saetth, you cannot begin to understand my power. Not only do I wear the crown of hell, I wield the scepter of the primordial fey.”
His covetous eyes locked on it.
“It should look familiar to you,” she said. “It was forged of Titanian steel, at the same time your sword was created.” She tapped her chin with her free hand. “Oh, wait . . . you lost the Ancestors’ Sword to Rune the Baneblood—when you targeted that male’s mate in a cowardly attack.”
He didn’t deny that, just said, “A loss which makes me particularly interested in your scepter.”
So predictable. “I’m giving you one opportunity to abdicate. This is your only chance to leave this kingdom alive.”
“Indeed?” He shared a laugh with his courtiers before addressing her again. “I’m a warrior king, and you’re . . . you. We all know you’re better suited to modeling ball gowns and traipsing across a dance floor.”
Lila smiled pleasantly. “And still I’ll make a better ruler than you.”
“You continue to look at me as if I am the villain. You have yet to understand that I did what I had to in order to protect Sylvan.”
“Say that were true, you have yet to understand that if two alternatives are wrong, you don’t pick the least wrong, you figure out something right. That is what makes a monarch.”
She turned to address the crowd, giving him her back, hoping he’d take the bait. “I’m Queen Calliope, ruler of hell and heir to Sylvan’s throne,” she declared, her voice ringing. “When I defeat Saetth, you will all acknowledge my rule. Or I’ll end you.” She addressed the king’s guard. “You’ll vow fealty. Or you’ll die.” She told her cousins, “You’ll flee this kingdom. Or you’ll share Saetth’s coming fate.” Facing him once more, she said, “Don’t challenge me, cousin.”
The scepter drew his eyes again. That’s it, asshole. Take the bait—
Shouts sounded from the castle’s grounds. Soldiers? They were yelling for backup, the commotion growing louder. Fey archers started to fire, their bowstrings going twang, twang, twang.
Abyssian had come.
Inside, the crowd surged to the castle’s arched windows to look.
“A Møriør!”
“The handsome primordial!”
“Will the barrier hold?”
When a demonic battle roar carried through the night, she raised her gaze to the ceiling. “Fucker.”