by Kresley Cole
He possessed no magic outside of Pandemonia, so how could he defeat hers? She recalled him telling her about one of his battle campaigns, stressing that field advantage was key in war.
Only one of hell's two rulers is currently in this advantageous field.
She pictured the invisible border of the dimension, then imagined sheets of hell metal covering it, locking the boundaries down.
Locking him out. Only she had the key.
"Pandemonia is mine," she murmured, hands balling into fists. "I control it." She concentrated harder. "I want him gone. Lock him--and any who would help him--out. I forbid Abyssian to return."
The hellfire had blessed her. He didn't deserve this place.
He broke my heart.
Power thrumming through her, she swayed on her feet, sensing . . . success. She'd barred him from this dimension!
Though she savored this electric feeling of connectedness to Pandemonia, wanted to explore it even more, she had a mission to challenge her cousin.
But if she couldn't wield hell's magic in another realm, how could she defeat him? He would have the upper hand in every way.
He's stronger. Faster. A legendary swordsman. Protected by guards. Backed by an army. Field advantage. More experienced. More devious.
In one of her many late-night conversations with Abyssian, Lila had said, "Maybe a more levelheaded fey regent could overthrow Saetth."
He'd answered, "That king's the strongest of his kind. He's too powerful to be routed by another fey."
She'd bitten her tongue, instead of voicing her thought: And Saetth knows it. Which is a vulnerability in itself. . . .
Her attention was again drawn to the mantel. The Lotan head and the scepter seemed to call to her.
The moment grew dreamlike; yes, everything felt connected. This was why she'd been brought back for a second life.
Fate wanted Lila to be queen.
Suddenly she knew how to defeat Saetth.
She laughed at the solution, stamping her feet. By not defeating him at all. . . .
FIFTY-FIVE
Sian and Rune stilled, waiting to see if the glass would hold.
Tense moments passed. The fracture began to slow. By all the gods, stop.
When it finally did, they both exhaled a gust of breath.
"Are you done with this?" Rune traced to his feet, adjusting his jaw.
Now that the heat of the fight had ebbed, Sian was left with . . . emptiness. He gave a faint nod.
"I truly thought she would tell you." Rune shoved his hair out of his face. "I read your mind when Josie and I stopped by, and I saw how happy your mate was making you. I wanted that for you."
"She did make me happy. Before I learned of her treachery."
"I didn't do this to harm you. Think, Sian--can you comprehend how difficult forgoing my own revenge was? She's been one of my targets since her birth."
"How did you forgo it? You vowed to yourself, to Orion. Even to Magh."
Rune crossed to the war room's table, then dropped into a seat. "I vowed fealty to my allies. That comes before all others." He rooted in his jacket pocket and produced a flask of demon brew. He took a swig, then offered it.
After a tense moment, Sian joined him at the table. He accepted the flask and drank deep.
"I agonized over this decision, talking out all the ramifications with Josie. Who, by the way, will hand me my ass for not bringing her with me. But I figured something was up when you summoned me here."
"What if I'd never found out?" Sian passed the flask back. The two sat side by side, gazing out at the galaxy. "How would you have gotten past the fact that my mate and I might've added to Magh's line?"
No matter what he'd said to Calliope, Sian wouldn't have cared who her ancestors were. Last night, he'd felt the possibility--no, the certitude of children between them.
He mourned the loss.
"Josie reminded me that every other fey in that line might be evil, but if Calliope isn't, then my reasoning would be flawed. She also pointed out that my father was evil, but I'm not. We're not our parents." Rune took a generous swig. "I never thought I would still have so bloody much to learn at my age. . . ."
They both fell silent at that, wordlessly drinking. What am I going to do now? Sian had no appetite for war, no interest in combat.
Earlier, when he'd stopped by the throne room to tell Uthyr his plans, the dragon had been pacing, already aware of what had occurred. . . .
--Free your mate!-- he'd demanded.
"She stays where she is, dragon. Do not interfere."
--Have you finally lost your demonic mind?-- Uthyr had loosed a stream of flame beside Sian. A dragon's way of snapping his fingers? --What if she did set out with ill intentions but grew to love you?--
"Over the adored king of her kind? I couldn't win Kari's love when I'd been as handsome as Saetth. Now . . ." Sian had gestured to himself. "You told me to accept my curse. She's my second one. I must accept that she is vicious down to her soul, and nothing will change that."
Uthyr's parting shot: --Mark the words of a very old dragon: this will not end well for you.--
How could it? Sian's dreams were dead. Matehood was an impossibility. Just as he'd always known.
Minutes passed, maybe hours. The pull to return to his mate intensified. I fucking miss her. But the time they'd spent--filled with laughter, play, and pleasure--was over.
Allixta, the Morior's spellcaster, sashayed into the room, her oversize witch's hat covering her long raven hair. Curses, her enormous otherworld panther, slunk beside her. The towering Darach Lyka followed. Though the full moon had been last night, Darach looked to be on the very edge of turning, his eyes ice blue, his beast barely leashed. But then, he was like that most nights.
"We couldn't help but delve into your minds," the witch said unapologetically. "Such turmoil, demon." She sat at the table, Curses leaping atop the surface.
Sian could feel her prying into his thoughts for even more detail. He gave her free leave.
Speech proved difficult for Darach when he was this far gone, so he used telepathy. --Betrayed again?--
"Yet again." Betrayed and tricked.
Allixta asked Sian, "How could your mate stomach sleeping with you when you look like that?" Leave it to the witch not to sugarcoat anything. "The fey king, for all his faults, is sublime. To go from him to you . . . I feel for her."
Sublime? Sian would kill that prick. Soon.
Rune grated, "You're not helping things." He and Allixta were forever quarreling. When they started up again, Sian tuned them out, his gaze shifting back to the glass.
A starburst at the center of a fracture caught his attention. It reminded him of the diamond.
He focused on that starburst. Little by little, the crimson haze seemed to disperse. As his clarity returned, he recalled something Calliope had said last night.
You'll never give me a fair chance.
She'd asked him how they could work on the issues they currently had when he couldn't get over the past.
Had his rage against Kari colored his judgment of Calliope? Would he have viewed her dream differently had she never betrayed him in the past?
Maybe he wouldn't have jumped to the worst conclusions.
With this growing focus, he pictured Calliope's breathless wonder when he'd claimed her. She'd wanted him to. Why? She'd had no reason to up the stakes between them, no reason to offer her neck so trustingly.
Curious, he dug deeper into his memories of her dream, experiencing impressions he hadn't before.
Her outrage at her treason trial . . . her bewilderment at losing her cold parents . . . the horror of their beheading . . . her resentment over her exile . . .
Saetth had to have weakened her attachment--just as she'd said earlier. Enraged at the idea of her kissing that fey, Sian had hardly listened to her.
As if a band had tightened around his chest, Sian's breaths shallowed. He'd made a pledge to her--an understanding represented
by the diamond--to forgive the past and move forward.
But he hadn't.
He murmured, "I broke my pledge."
Dimly, he heard Rune tell Allixta, "I shouldn't have concealed my knowledge of Sian's mate. Maybe nothing good will ever come from that line."
"Bravery did." Three heads swung around in Sian's direction. "A powerless fey, not yet immortal, marched into my hold to take down a Morior. She braved the lion's den--in hell. Even though she knew Rune could appear at any time to assassinate her."
Allixta said, "Did she brave such risks out of love for the male she'd always wanted?"
Reluctantly agreeing with the witch, Rune said, "Love can make beings do crazy things."
Sian nodded. "That's true. In fact, I am going to do something I would've thought impossible just weeks ago. I am going to have faith in my mate." Saying those words bolstered his resolve. Calliope couldn't have feigned that wonder in the diamond cave. She and Sian had begun something. "My female told me she loves me. I'm going to believe her."
"According to your memories, she said that after you locked her in a dungeon," Allixta pointed out. "What wouldn't she have said to get free? Didn't she lie to you repeatedly?"
Sian stood. "She had no choice. But I do."
"For gods' sakes, demon, your female admitted that she sought to destroy you."
"Until she learned to trust me."
Allixta's lips thinned. "Your decision affects more than just you. If she speaks Demonish, she could have read your correspondence, or overheard you talking."
Rune added, "We have no idea how close she is with Nix."
"Then my mate and I will both have an alliance that our partner hates." If I haven't lost her.
Allixta made a scoffing laugh. "Now you're just being silly. Why would she prefer a hell-changed demon over the gorgeous, golden king of her own kind? One she's loved since her earliest memories?"
"Brother, if Saetth is what she desires . . ." Rune trailed off, searching for the right words. "You can't force her to want you."
Sian heard his allies' thoughts.
Allixta: --Delusional demon.--
Rune: --Desperate male.--
Darach: --Unstable. Like me.--
"Damn it, I'm not seeing this situation wrongly! Am I desperate not to be mateless? Of course. But if I'd kept my mind from the past, I wouldn't have reacted like this." He stabbed his fingers into his hair. "She knew I would think the worst. She predicted my behavior like a bloody soothsayer. Yet she'd still broached talking to me last night."
Her words: I need your help, your advice. I want to figure this out, but I can't do it alone.
She must have dreaded his reaction to her bloodline. How could she not have after the things he'd said about it?
Now that he could think clearly, he realized Calliope had been longing to tell him everything--despite his idiocy.
That was the reason for her distance. That was the conundrum.
How to fix his colossal mistake? He would return hat in hand. He'd admit how stupid he'd been. Once more he would plead to her. . . .
Rune said, "But won't you always react like this? Your mate's betrayal will continue to influence your view. This will just happen again."
Darach nodded. --Stuck in rut.--
"No. Because I forgive her for the past." Sian rasped, "I forgive her down to her very soul. From now until I die, I'm going to believe in her." But could she forgive him?
Allixta sighed. "You can't argue with the deluded. . . ." She trailed off, her eyes widening.
"What?"
"Well, look at you, Mr. Man."
Sian frowned, turning to Rune and Darach. Both were slack-jawed.
"What is it?" he demanded. Was that . . . ash wisping in front of him?
Rune's shock gave way to a grin. "You might want to take a gander at your reflection."
Sian raised his hands to touch his face, freezing at the sight of them. They were transforming into . . . into his former hands. A thin line of fire bordered each of his lengthy claws, scorching them away.
He teleported in front of an undamaged part of the glass. Gaped at his reflection.
His face had morphed back into his previous guise, his piercings gone. His glyphs faded, his skin growing smooth and tanned. That simmering heat singed away his wings. Would those proud horns remain?
They too burned to nothing. . . .
Rune traced behind him. "Your curse is being reversed."
How? Why? As Sian's thoughts raced, his dam's words flickered through his mind: Find the fire, and your appearance will be pleasing.
He'd taken her words literally, scouring his realm for the hellfire.
Though his reflection tried to hold his attention, Sian peered past it, gazing out into the black ether. Was this what his ancestor had seen?
Suddenly Sian understood the moral of the hellfire tale passed down in his family. If the universe hadn't been dark, his ancestor would never have spied that fire in the distance.
It took darkness to see the light.
For Sian, Calliope was the fire on the horizon. He'd dreamed of her, obsessing over her, searching for her in every era.
He hadn't been sleepwalking--he'd been immersed in darkness. He'd vowed to survive long enough for her to return to him. Which meant the promise of reuniting with her had gotten him through all those years, leading him forward.
Calliope had become his beacon, a point of reference from which to view all other things. If he kept his eyes on her . . .
I'll always know my way.
But he hadn't. He'd taken his eyes off her to look to the past.
Never again. His search had prepared him. By forgiving her, he'd found her. His heart soared. . . .
Then it sank. "When I left Calliope, she was strangling her emotions." That chilling blankness. Kari had walked away and never looked back. "I told my mate it was all a game with her. I told her . . . I would war on her kingdom."
He recalled his father's advice: Only hit hard if you aim true, son. Sian's aim had been false, and he might've swung a deathblow.
"You left her with nothing to do but sit in hell's dungeon and solidify her hatred of you." Allixta stroked behind her panther's ear. "All the best with your reconciliation."
Was he too late? A short jaunt to Tenebrous would equal hours gone by in Pandemonia. "I go now." He traced home--
And came shooting back into the black-stone keep, hitting the wall. "What the fuck?" He tried again. Boomeranged right back. "I can't trace into my kingdom!"
"Let me." Rune teleported. A split second later he flew through the air, slamming into the glass, which began to crack anew.
The others stilled, but Sian couldn't be bothered with that threat. His mind was too busy conjuring one nightmare scenario after another.
What if hell had been attacked? What if one among his countless enemies had taken Calliope? Killed her? Uthyr had better be giving his dragonic life to protect her!
"I can't get to my mate!" Sian snapped. "What force is keeping me out of my own realm?"
FIFTY-SIX
If I'm going to visit the neighbors, I've got to look fabulous.
When Lila entered her wardrobe, a purple gown appeared across the divan, a pair of glass slippers beside it.
She'd never seen such an exquisite garment. It was sleeveless with a stiff, raised collar and a neckline that would plunge almost to her navel.
The color was royal--and defiant, reminding her of her treason trial.
"Why shouldn't I believe you were involved in your parents' plot to take my crown?"
"Because it still sits upon your godsdamned head."
She pulled on the gown with a shiver. The material--one she'd never encountered before--had such a pronounced sheen, it looked black in certain lights. She stepped into the glass slippers, and they molded to her feet.
After pulling her hair into a loose updo, she assessed her reflection. Not bad.
In the mirror, she caught sight of a box on
the top shelf of the wardrobe behind her. She imagined the box disappearing and reappearing into her raised hands.
It . . . did.
Her lips parted at its contents: an eerie black headpiece--a crown. Power seemed to flow from it.
On either side of the circlet, a proud black horn jutted upward. Over the front, long fangs crisscrossed. Wispy vines twined around the crown. Like black fire vines!
Queen of nowhere? Not quite. Her inauguration wouldn't coincide with her wedding or claiming.
But with her crowning.
She donned the piece, eyes going wide when it tightened to fit her head. Those vines slithered down, plaiting into her hair.
She faced the mirror once more. Her eyes glowed with purpose. That crown made her look as if she had horns. A true queen of hell.
Now for her accessory. She turned to the scepter she'd modified and lifted it.
Carefully. Her scepter wasn't normally a weapon, but tonight would be no normal night.
Abyssian had made it sound like Saetth's strength was something to be feared; she was counting on it.
Now all she needed was transportation. One of Uthyr's portals would do nicely. With her new power, she no longer feared the Morior dragon.
As she set out from the tower, the castle assisted her, its clockwork pieces shifting to provide the most direct route to the throne room.
When she entered, the imposing dragon was leaning against the terrace doorway, a contemplative expression on his scaled face.
"King Uthyr."
He went motionless, except for his rippling tail. Then he turned his great body toward her and eased closer.
"I'm Queen Calliope."
His brow furrowed as his gaze lighted upon her crown. He extended his long neck, leaning in, far too close for comfort. She cringed when he sniffed the crown. After lingering on the horns, he drew back his giant head with a thunderstruck look.
She'd sensed the uniqueness of her crown, but hadn't thought other creatures would. "Abyssian told me you can create portals."
He nodded. She could have sworn she saw both approval and amusement in his expression.
"I'm late for my fiance's gala, so you are going to open a rift to Sylvan for me."
His canted head so clearly said: I am?
"I'm the queen of hell, the sole sovereign of Pandemonia. Abyssian won't be returning. You may stay in my kingdom, if you serve me."
Golden eyes gleaming, he drew back his wing and made a flourishing bow. --Then your wish is my command.--
