Lucifer bowed before the King, resting on one knee with his arm propped sideways. The long robing of aquamarine with silver edging that flowed over his back and pooled on the ground was soft as the silk it was named after. Yet its softness could not stop the sting that still thrived across his back, stabbing intermittently as a permanent reminder.

A reminder of the years that had passed since his fall. All nineteen of them.

Though he had not aged a day in appearance, he felt like time was slipping away. Like he had accomplished nothing in his plight against God. Here he was, still in Babylon, still advisor to the king, and now…

He was to be named Regent.

And all he wanted to do was scream.

All around the soaring foyer, the voices of Babylonians hushed. Their chatter rebounded off the blue tiled walls and dusty stone beneath him, dying off as they watched in droves. Packed into the wide, square room, they squeezed in to fit between the many long columns that held up the ceiling. More spilled out the open entryway that poured early morning light inside, the whole city gathered even if they could not see up the many steps that led to the royal grounds.

A tap at Lucifer’s shoulder brought his head up.

Standing over him, King Cyrus’s sword was as heavy on his shoulder as the man’s stare was down at his face. No longer a boy, lines now edged his brown eyes, and dark whiskers framed his broad jaw and dimpled chin. His long hair reached his shoulders, held down by the hefty crown of gold atop his head.

Lucifer contained the glare he felt tickling his lips.

Despite his aged appearance, in nineteen years the king had not changed. Honorable to no end. But his reign was soon to cease. Lucifer was through biding his time. He was through waiting for the results he wanted. As regent, the king’s demise would be his windfall.

“Do you swear to uphold the values and laws of my kingdom and of all of Persia? To defend the innocent and defend our people and rule with honor and integrity? To protect my life above your own, and to rule in my stead should my time ever come to pass?”

Barely listening to the throng of words King Cyrus rambled, Lucifer smiled. “I swear it.” The king’s time was going to end sooner than he expected. He was ready to make sure of that. And as regent, Lucifer would be named the next ruler of Babylon. “For all my eternal days.”

“Now rise…” Cyrus removed the sword and re-sheathed it at his waist, the folds of his deep royal blue and purple robing hiding it from view. “…protector of Babylon.”

Cheers and clapping erupted, movement and life returning to the loyal Babylonians.

Lucifer curled his hands into ready fists as he rose to full height. The temptation to slice the king’s sword free and take his head in one sweeping arc was almost too much to refrain from. But he would not kill a mortal. He had not done so in all his years on Earth, and he was not about to now. For his plans, he would not need to…

Turning to face the many watchers, among which guards were stationed in red cloth and leather intermittently between columns, Lucifer tipped his head. He decided he could get used to this, but first, he needed to bring about that fateful day when he was named King of the Mortals. He had to try one last time to steer his fate in the direction he desired.

Following protocol, Lucifer held out his hand and waited as a guard handed a curved dagger encrusted with amethyst stones to the king. Curling his fingers around the sharp length, Cyrus yanked the blade free. Red bloomed at once, dripping from the king’s uncurling fist. Cupping Lucifer’s upturned hand next, he sliced the blade quickly across Lucifer’s palm. Silvery-black welled, and Lucifer rubbed his hands together. A formal advisor appeared, unraveling a length of papyrus that was inked with the king’s choice of regent. Cyrus pressed his bloody hand to the paper, leaving a red handprint. Then he nodded to Lucifer who sealed his position as regent by planting his own handprint beside the king’s.

Cyrus snatched the thick scroll and held it up high. “To the life of Babylon. To the life of your king!”

The crowd cheered louder, now chanting, “To the life of Babylon. To the life of our King.”

Stepping back, Lucifer followed as Cyrus climbed the steps and resumed his position upon his jewel-encrusted gold throne. He leaned in close, speaking into his ear to keep the guards flanking the elevated level from hearing. “Though I am sure there are many festivities to come, we must discuss the threat I mentioned earlier. The surrounding kingdoms to the east and west are banding together. My spies from each city reported the same on my return from this last war. The plot of your demise strengthens with each passing day. And we must take action.”

King Cyrus regarded Lucifer without suspicion, but with consideration. “If this threat is real, what is it you propose?”

Lucifer smiled. “Prove you are the honorable leader of the free people and march against them. Lead your army of men to disband this threat before it can fester and grow. Before it can overwhelm our forces. Before it can lead to your untimely death.”

“And where will you be while I lead my men to battle?”

Lucifer’s smile widened, and he bowed down to one knee. The cut across his palm was gone, but the drying silver-black blood still remained. “At your side, where I belong.” Where I can ensure you meet your end in battle, he added in his mind.

“Rise.” Lucifer obeyed the King’s demand and stood tall. But the face looking back of him did not fulfill his anticipation. “War is a last resort. It is not the first step. And my army is tired after our latest victory. So many perished this time. Too many. For now, I shall deal with this matter less violently. Should our allies refuse their continued allegiance, then we shall take action once our forces are at full strength.”

So many times the honorable king had refused his encouragement for death and bloodshed. Like this latest one, wars had been fought, but they were few and far between. Lucifer’s influence was far from what he had envisioned when he’d traversed to Babylon nineteen years ago. He was tired of waiting, tired of this one man standing in the way of ruining God’s precious humans. “And should they set upon the city in sleep?”

King Cyrus stood, his smile kind and full of belief. “Then you, my advisor and protector, will safeguard my life and command my army to disband this threat. Now, enough talk of war and bloodshed.” He clapped a hand over Lucifer’s shoulder, causing a stab to strike through the covered stump along his shoulder blade as he forced him down the steps. “This day, we celebrate your regency and our latest victory.”

Lucifer went along, letting the king lead him through the crowd that cleared with the movement of his marching guards. They were heading toward a walkway that would lead to a grand hall of tables piled high with roasted foods, fresh fruits, and endless jugs of wine. He cursed his lost ability to control the minds of mortals. But he refused to be discouraged. This was not the end of his plans.

This was merely a bump in the road.

A bump he would pummel with his own fist if he had to.