by SM Reine
“Demons invaded after I’d already left Dilmun,” Marion said. “There must be witnesses to Benjamin’s whereabouts. The angels—”
“They left him in the city and fled,” Rylie said.
“Then the only witnesses are demons.” Konig’s tone was deceptively smooth, like a polished cup hiding a mound of shit.
Rylie turned on him slowly. Her movements were more lupine than human. “Then we need to speak with demons. Don’t we?”
“Right this way.” Konig’s long velvet coat swirled behind him as he turned.
Startled, Marion followed. They all did.
She trailed her fingers along the walls behind the throne room. The wards grudgingly spoke, allowing her to glimpse the dungeons far below. They contained a hundred dead demons: giant insects that appeared crushed, a few Hounds severed into quarters by a giant blade, and tattooed gang members who’d choked to death on their own blood.
Arawn sat at the middle of them, forced to stew among the bodies of his followers.
No wonder they were in Niflheimr instead of Myrkheimr. It wasn’t that Konig had conceded any degree of power; they just couldn’t hold the Lord of Sheol captive somewhere with sunlight.
“How did you capture Arawn?” Marion asked.
Konig said calmly, “Our army went to Dilmun the instant they realized you were missing.”
She had slipped too far into her role as queen to outwardly register the surprise she felt within. “I’m glad to hear they’re no longer on strike.”
Konig stopped so that Heather could open the dungeon doors for them. “They’re on strike. In fact, they refuse to return to the Middle Worlds.”
Marion was given no chance to ask why.
Niflheimr’s dungeon had been reconfigured to contain Arawn. Their normal cells had been stripped away so that there was only one large room, like an abattoir. Arawn was whittling a bone from one of his Hounds into a shiv. He glanced up when they stood at the rim of the abattoir to see him.
“Visit from the Alpha?” Arawn asked. “I’m honored. I must have done something to piss you off.” His voice echoed off the walls of ice.
Rylie’s nostrils flared as she smelled him. “What did you do with my son?”
“Your…son?” His over-confident smile slipped. Without his usual goggles, blades, and human leather, he looked like a withered old man inching toward infirmity. “Ooh. My hostage.”
“Where…is…he?” Rylie growled.
“I don’t know! I had every intention of keeping him alive for weeks. I was going to eat him piece by piece. Which is a good thing, as that does, in fact, mean that I did not kill him, nor did I get a chance to eat even one piece.” Arawn sighed wistfully.
“I helped him escape.” Another person stood at the far end of the abattoir. Charity Ballard was looking terrible, which meant she was fine. Her glamour simply didn’t work within the Middle Worlds.
The seelie guards closed around Rylie, lifting their swords.
“Wait,” Seth said abruptly. “She’s an ally.” He looked like Yasir again, and was hidden by his hood, but Rylie gave him a strange look. Her nostrils flared.
Charity shuffled around the abattoir toward them. “I helped Benjamin escape by taking him to the edge of the settlement. But he jumped me. He took me down with angel magic.”
“That’s not possible,” Rylie said. “Benjamin’s mundane.”
“That’s what he told me too, but I felt the zap firsthand. I was out for hours.”
“Benjamin can’t do magic!” Rylie was totally losing it. She rounded on Marion. “Pull the truth out of her! You’re an angel, you’ve done it a thousand times!”
Marion surveyed the Alpha coolly. “I believe what Charity is saying. She’s above mistrust.”
“Nobody’s above mistrust.” Rylie shot a look at Seth-as-Yasir. Did she recognize her ex-fiance’s best man? “Delve into her mind so we can figure out where Benjamin’s going.”
“That’s not necessary. I know where he’s headed.” Marion swallowed hard, bracing herself to force the name out. “Shamayim. The lone remaining ethereal dimension.”
Rylie flung out a hand, and Trevin supported the Alpha by holding her entire arm. “He would never go there.”
“He will. Benjamin and I have been working together in pursuit of it.” Marion found it easiest to look at Konig when she said that, since he already knew. His barely contained anger had nothing to do with the search for a forbidden ethereal plane. “Leliel will be going to Shamayim too. She stole my blood so that she could unlock the door.”
“Oh for the love of—” Rylie cut herself off by clenching her jaw. She turned to the seelie. “Let’s go.”
“We are best suited to reach Shamayim and find your son,” Konig said. “Join forces with us. We’ll all go together as allies and—”
“We are not allies,” Rylie said. “We will never be allies.” She stormed out of the dungeons flanked by her seelie guards.
24
Konig hadn’t known he had so much self-control. He got through a meeting in the dungeons with Marion by his side, and he did not atomize the Winter Court with his fury at any point.
He let it out in private, the instant that he reached his Niflheimr bedroom. It tore out of him in a roar that cracked the ice chandelier. Shards showered over his bed—a bed where he had never once shared company with Marion.
His face wasn’t reflected in those shards, but Seth bowing over Marion to kiss her as she slept.
“What the fuck?”
Heather had burst into the room at the explosion. She already had an arrow nocked and drawn to her cheek. At the sight of Konig showered in fragments of ice, she lowered the bow slowly.
“Shut the door,” he snarled.
She kicked it shut. “Lucy, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do. What’s with the tantrum? Are you that pissed off about the Alpha? We don’t need her.”
“Yes, in fact, we do,” Konig said. “Think it through, Heather. Rylie Gresham is allied with the seelie. The seelie are allied with Leliel.”
“Then it’s good that we booted her back to her dimension. She’d have betrayed us.”
“Or we could have kept tabs on her to ensure she didn’t join with angels. Can you imagine all of North America’s shifters rallying against us? There are thousands of sidhe residing on Earth that could be slaughtered!”
“Relax, I’ll order that they’re brought to safety.” Heather went to the door.
“Stop.” The idea of being alone with his thoughts was unbearable. “It’s not just the Alpha. It’s Marion.”
Heather rolled her eyes and trudged back toward him. “Isn’t it always?”
“She’s trying to break me,” Konig said.
“You can’t let her attitude get to you. It’s not like you went into this relationship thinking she’d fawn over you. Coldness is her brand.” Heather flicked the bedspread, sending the remnants of the chandelier to the floor. “If she doesn’t appreciate you, that’s her loss.”
“It’s the entire court’s loss.” The unseelie would suffer if he killed Marion, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his hands around her throat.
Heather smoothed her hands over the comforter, now bare. “She’ll come around.”
When she leaned over the corner of the bed, Konig was reminded of how Heather had looked in the cleavage-baring dress. His focus was on a part of her anatomy much further south of the border.
He’d never looked at her like this. Heather was as beautiful as any other sidhe, but they’d grown up in the same nursery, taught by the same tutors.
Konig had thought he might have been losing his sanity from sex deprivation, but now that he looked at Heather from this angle, bent over his bed, he felt perfectly sane in his urges.
She straightened to find him behind her. Heather frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Looking,” Konig said.
His hands skimmed along the waist of her bustier, which only appeared to have boning i
n it. Heather needed more flexibility than that. The supple material felt like butter gliding under his palms.
“Since when did you grow eyeballs on your fingertips?” But Heather had let her hands slide up to his neck, and Konig’s body reacted to his first female contact in months. He was glowing faintly.
Konig brushed her furred trousers. “Who were you going on a date with?”
“It’s not the king’s business.” She flicked his hands off of her.
He followed when she stepped away. “But it’s your best friend’s business.”
Heather sniffed indignantly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Come on, Heather,” Konig said. “I’m not imagining this energy between us.”
“We are sidhe,” she said.
“It’s not just that. Is it? You’re attracted to me.”
She stopped and faced him. “Yes, I’m attracted to you. Should I be pining?”
Konig advanced on her. “Pining isn’t necessary.”
She put a hand on his chest to stop him, but he kept walking. Heather only allowed him to push her back two steps before digging in her heels.
“Everyone knows you’re exclusive with Marion,” Heather said. “I’m not going anywhere with that…” She pointed at Konig’s snug leather pants. “…until I hear from Marion personally. If she ever adjusts to sidhe culture, then fine. We’re down. Until then, cold shower.” She made time-out hands like a referee.
He braced his elbow on the wall beside her head, leaning close enough toward Heather that he could smell the coffee she’d had with breakfast. “Marion’s not exclusive with me. She’s not even in love with me.”
“If it’s about the diadem, you shouldn’t worry. She was nervous.”
It was so much more than the diadem. Heather was too much a bit player to comprehend it, and that would never change if she didn’t think bigger. “The rumors about Marion and Death are true. Do you think that was the kiss of life that they shared at the doorway to Dilmun?”
“Maybe. He’s a gods-damned deity. What I do know about their technique? Maybe they rub their lips on everyone they save. Guess how much I care on a scale from one to ten? If it’s higher than zero, you picked wrong.”
“You should care if it means that all the rumors about Marion are true,” Konig said in a low, silken voice. “If she’s cheating on me, it weakens the kingdom.”
“So double-cheating will make it better?”
“Sex fuels me. I could shore up our weaknesses…with help.” His head dipped toward hers. Heather was still giving him that skeptical, raised-eyebrow glare. “Discreet help.”
She lifted her chin. He moved in to kiss.
But Heather ducked under his arm and moved out of reach. She had reached the door before he could even straighten. “You’ve got my terms, Konig. I’m not riding that horse into the sunset without permission, even if she is cheating. I don’t care how hard up you are for it.”
“Very hard,” he said.
Another eye-roll from Heather. “Don’t break any more chandeliers. I don’t want you trying to bone the next Raven Knight who comes in to save you.”
Now Konig felt a faint stinging. “I wouldn’t.”
“You’re not hitting on me because I’m the nearest warm body?”
“Heather, you would always mean more to me than that,” he said, and it came out a little husky.
The mirth drained out of her features. Her eyes flicked down his body, and then back to his face. She whirled to leave the room. “Well, chandeliers are expensive. So don’t break them anyway.”
She looked at him one last time before shutting the door, and Konig was confident she was trying not to smile.
Marion was permitted a few minutes with her handmaidens. Konig didn’t want to appear beside a woman wearing a dress she’d publicly worn before, so she needed to be changed. She supposed she was meant to be grateful for the reprieve. In reality, being separated from most of her guards—including Seth—left her feeling choked and impatient.
Saoirse took the lead in stripping Marion, while Aoife fussed with her hair. “This one?” Tove lifted a dress with a diamond bodice. She’d have snowflake patterns gripping her breasts before spilling into a waterfall below a dropped hip. All of Marion’s warmth would need to come from magic if she wore that.
Marion began spinning a charm with her fingertips. “Yes, that one.” If Konig wanted her to look good, she would look good. She would look great.
And Seth would see her in it, too.
“So what was that thing that brought you out of Sheol?” asked Aoife, her expert fingers separating Marion’s locks. They were chilly on her cheeks. “A demon?”
Marion couldn’t stop the blood from flushing her face. “That was God.”
“A demon is God?”
“One of them,” she said. The handmaidens giggled. It was the tinkling of shattered glass around her. “You know that I’m the Voice.”
“It didn’t look like a working relationship,” Saoirse said.
Marion didn’t remember anything after hurtling toward Seth in the Pit of Souls. “What did you see?”
“We saw what everyone saw.” Tove began applying diamonds to Marion’s breasts. She was as impartial about the queen’s private areas as any sidhe.
“The kiss,” Saoirse said in a stage whisper. Aoife rolled her eyes in disgust.
A relief, because it reminded Marion that these were not her girlfriends. They were Konig’s. Still, Marion couldn’t help but ask, “The kiss?”
Tove swept Saoirse off of her feet into her arms. Saoirse drooped dramatically, like a ballet dancer doing a back bend. “The kiss!” Tove announced, and Saoirse giggled as the other faerie bowed to touch lips to lips.
Marion started shaking again, and this time, it had nothing to do with the cold. If Seth had kissed her—why did he kiss me?—and everyone had seen it, then Konig would know.
It explained everything about his mood.
“Stop messing around,” she snapped. “Finish your work. We have to get to the throne room.”
The faeries dropped each other and closed in again, smiles gone. “Of course, Your Majesty. I’m sorry.” Marion wasn’t sure who said that. Her teary eyes wouldn’t focus.
Her bedroom door opened. Sadly, it was no Raven Knight who entered.
Ariane Kavanagh wore an elaborate, ruffled black dress that would have suited Sheol with its gold accents and severe corsetry. Her eyes were smudged with black eyeshadow. Ariane looked as dark as Marion felt, and she welcomed the kinship, if not the convenient reappearance of a woman who repeatedly abandoned her without remorse.
“Hello, little sweetness. It’s time for your meeting with Adàn Pedregon.” Ariane stepped aside, and the stag shifter himself entered the room.
It would have been a waste of time to question how the man had gotten into Niflheimr when their security should have prevented it. Ariane was as much a force of chaos as any demon, and normal laws simply didn’t apply to her.
Adàn wore enough furs and animal hide to turn his aged form into one as bulky as Ymir’s. He pushed the hood back to bare salt-and-pepper hair. “Your Majesty.”
“Get out of here,” Marion said to her handmaidens, even though they weren’t done. The faeries flitted away. Ariane moved to take their place. Marion grabbed her mother’s wrist. “This is too far. I didn’t agree to a meeting with your boyfriend.”
“I won’t waste your time,” Adàn said. He bowed before Marion—a deep bow that brought him to his knees. And he remained there.
He wanted something from her, but damn it all, at least he showed the respect she deserved.
Marion’s released Ariane’s wrist. “What do you two want?”
“I was behind the infernal assault on Dilmun today,” Adàn said without standing. “I’ve made an agreement with Arawn. I get Sheol, and he gets the undercity in my home—Barcelona.”
“There have been no undercities since Genesis.” Those were the subterranean
caverns that had been infested with demons. Every major city used to have one, but they’d vanished with the rebirth of the world.
“My people dug this city with our bare hands.”
“You’ve been planning this for a long time.” Marion felt strangely calm, considering that he was confessing to a crime against angels. “That’s why you brokered the deal with me to get passage through the Ethereal Levant. You were creating a route for the demons.”
“We want sovereignty, and Arawn wants Earth. It’s mutually beneficial.”
Ariane buried a pin in Marion’s curls at the back of her head. “There were attempts to exterminate shifters worldwide after Genesis. The Spanish president at the time was the worst of the killers, and Los Cambiasformas Internacional was birthed as a reaction.”
“He killed my wife, my parents, my brothers,” Adàn said. “Thousands of us.”
“The only salve is to flee to the Nether Worlds at the expense of angel-kind?” Marion asked.
“The angels aren’t long for Dilmun. Arawn doesn’t want Sheol anymore. This wasn’t done casually, Your Highness.” He finally met her eyes. His golden irises weren’t as vibrant as Rylie’s, but they had every ounce of gravity.
The cogs of Marion’s mind were still turning, making connections between events. “Lucifer has helped you find vampire travel routes so that Arawn’s demons can get to Barcelona.” No wonder he had failed to meet her. Meeting her had never been part of the plan.
Adàn nodded. “The gods decided the fate of my people in Genesis, but we reject that fate. We want to choose the life we lead. Arawn and Lucifer think the same as I do—that we are owed freedom. We are more than toys for gods.”
It was nice that he felt that way. Marion knew that she was only a tin soldier marching alongside Benjamin and every other toy on the way to Shamayim.
“All I ask is that you don’t interfere with us,” Adàn said. “We’ve made efforts to keep you safe from the transition, so make efforts to let us live in peace.”
“And leave the residents of Barcelona helpless to Arawn?”
“The world was like that before Genesis.”
“Things have changed,” Marion said.