by SM Reine
Leliel had barely entered the Winter Court when she felt a presence.
His presence.
After her years in the garden with Adam and Eve, Leliel knew what a god felt like. She didn’t have to be the Voice to sense the way the entire universe bowed around a godly being.
It was strange to feel that presence on a gaean plane. The old gods had seldom set foot on Earth—whether because they were smart enough to know the devastating effect their whims could have on mortal souls or because they simply didn’t care about Earth, Leliel still was not sure.
There was only one new god that Leliel could imagine visiting Niflheimr.
Leliel approached Marion’s Niflheimr bedroom via the balcony. She struggled to land evenly while the cruel wind buffeted her, so she shielded herself with her enchanted wings. Leliel smudged away some of the frost on the window to see inside. Interior condensation blocked her view.
She slid her fingers between the panes of the window, gently pushing it open. Compared to the Winter Court’s frigid breeze—frigid even now, when it was warmed by air from the Autumn Court—it felt like opening the door to a sauna.
The demon-god’s back was visible from her narrow perspective. He was only halfway corporeal. A man standing in the midst of an enormous shadowy presence. The sight of Death filled Leliel with a sinking sense of inevitability. Just because Leliel was immortal didn’t mean she was invulnerable. One day, she would have to face him.
Not today.
But even if an atomic bomb had dropped upon her in that moment, she wouldn’t have caught Seth Wilder’s attention. He was looking at Marion as though she were the only thing in the entire plane. In any plane.
Leliel could hear Marion’s murmurs clearly from outside. “I promise that I have everything under control here. Soon Leliel will be locked away, Benjamin will be through the warp, and…” Marion sighed. “And everything will be better.”
Leliel will be locked away?
It was a statement with too much room for interpretation. It was possible that Marion had never wanted to use the circle of stone to separate Benjamin from Nathaniel. Or else she did, but she simply didn’t want to share the results of changing Genesis with others. Or she could have been lying to Seth, as she so often lied to everyone.
There was no way to tell.
“All right. I trust you,” Seth said. “Jesus, I have to trust you. I’ll go out of my mind if I don’t.”
As Leliel watched, Seth wrapped an arm around Marion, and she wrapped herself inside of him. Everything shimmered around Seth when he was holding his Voice. Leliel used to see that shimmer around Lilith when the demon-goddess had been with Adam. That was what it looked like when a god was in love.
Stranger was that Marion looked as though she felt the same.
Leliel had thought she knew what Marion looked like when she was being truthful—or, at least, Marion’s version of truthful. Wrapped within the darkness of Death’s form, Marion was more content, and more pained, than Leliel had ever seen.
Things had changed. Even with her memories back…yes, Marion had changed, and so had circumstances.
“So you’ll do it?” Marion asked. “You’ll help me?”
“It’s a lot to ask.”
“You used to kill werewolves.”
“When I was a kid. This is different, Marion. The Godslayer is different.”
“I can’t believe you’d argue with me on this. You say that you will help me, but when I tell you what help I need, you argue. To be honest, Seth, I feel shaken. It’s not how you show trust.”
“That’s not fair,” he said softly.
“I won’t be safe if you don’t get rid of her.”
He didn’t speak for a long time. He just held her, and the two of them remained wrapped together—the yin and yang of ethereal energy twined with infernal.
Finally, Seth said, “All right.”
Leliel had heard enough. She eased back, allowing the window to shut.
She would have to skip her meeting with Marion. She had no interest in interrupting what was happening within…whatever that was. Not when Leliel’s time had become so short.
She needed to find the balefire.
And she needed to prepare for Marion.
Opening her wings wide, Leliel turned to return to Shamayim.
Watching the army move through the Wilds was a thing of such beauty. Konig liked to submerse himself in such battles, using his powers and bastard sword to lay waste to the seelie traitors, but it was almost equally pleasing to observe from a distance. At least, that was what he told himself. He had no choice but to satisfy himself with observation these days. The Raven Knights had told him he could no longer enter battle personally, as the fight with the Summer Court had become too bitter to risk their king in its midst.
The seelie knew they were about to lose, and they were fighting back hard.
He tried not to be angry when Dwynwen delivered the Raven Knights’ ultimatum. He tried to understand that their gentle restraint came from a place of love, since they wanted their king to live. The Middle Worlds would have been nothing without Konig.
But it was so frustrating to see his army struggling without being able to help. His people were positioning themselves for a final push into the Summer Court through the Veil, but they weren’t able to flank the entrance as they’d planned. Konig could have cut straight through their enemies. The army’s progress was slow in comparison.
The problem with any maneuver in the Wilds was that a thousand lesser unseelie sidhe, barely better than animals, always got in the way of the army. Even after Konig had flattened much of the forest and the dens that it contained. Even though these lesser unseelie should have been helping the army, since they were supposedly allies.
The Middle Worlds were lousy with filthy traitors who refused to accept Konig.
They’d change their minds or die.
“Is it going well?” Heather Cobweb had joined him in the throne room.
Konig glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been an hour since he’d summoned her. “You’re late.”
“I’ve been helping equip the third and fourth for the Alfheimr invasion.”
“That’s not your job,” Konig said.
“Someone has to do it.”
“Yeah, but not you.” He beckoned her over. “Come look in the mirror with me.”
Heather slung her bow over her shoulder and strode to his side. Now that Konig knew how stunning she could look when dressed like an average courtier, it was a little bit disappointing that she’d showed up in the trousers made of Hound hide. She was ready for a fight, not for fun.
“How’s it going in the Wilds?” Heather asked.
“Good. Look over here…” Konig wrapped his arm around her shoulders, angling the archer so that she could see through the looking glass. “They’re going to penetrate the Summer Court’s defenses by sundown.”
“That’s near the dryad den,” she said.
“Nikki’s neutralized them and the army’s flattened whoever didn’t run.”
“You mean you’re having the army kill them?” Heather turned in Konig’s arm to stare at him. “The dryads are tied to the health of the forest.”
“I am too,” he said.
“Sure, but do you really want to expend your energy to keep individual trees alive?”
“I’ve got more than enough power to spare for it.” Especially since Marion was continuing to service Konig sexually, ensuring that his sensual unseelie magic remained in full bloom.
“You have control of it for now, but what happens when you’ve got other distractions? Or if you get sick? Or when the next rulers take over?”
“I just got coronated,” Konig said. “I don’t plan on giving up my power any time soon.”
He’d only just shaped the Autumn Court the way he’d liked it. Everything was steel bladed, dripping with wine, and standing on foundations of sturdy stone slabs. None of his parents’ delicate flourishes rem
ained.
For the first time, Myrkheimr was perfect, and the only way he could be forced to leave it is if someone killed him and dragged his body way.
Heather was gazing at the mirror again. She looked troubled. “But the dryads…”
“What about them?”
“They’re not our enemies,” she said.
“Don’t get all sentimental on me.” Konig nudged her gently. “They’re not gentry or anything.”
“But they’re our people.”
“That’s beside the point, Cobweb. Don’t you get it? I’m going to have Oberon and Titania in custody by the time the sun rises tomorrow.” His excitement flooded the whole court. The curled leaves of yellowed grapevines spread wide. “I’m this close to having all the Middle Worlds.”
“Except the Spring Court,” Heather said.
“You know the royal family in the Spring Court doesn’t want to deal with conflict. They’ll see the writing on the wall and bolt.” Konig swept her around into a tight hug. “We’re almost done!”
His joy was infectious, even for self-serious Heather. Her lips twitched. “Don’t count your chickens, Konig. It hasn’t happened yet.”
“But it will.” He hadn’t told her the best part yet. “This was all prophesied.”
She laughed. She thought he was joking.
“You don’t have to believe me. Just wait—you’ll see how everything’s going to change for the better. And when it does…” His hand slipped into his pocket. He rolled his mother’s ring between his fingertips, debating whether it was time to give it to Heather.
Hell, why not count his chickens?
Konig offered the ring to her. “What’s this?” she asked without taking it.
“It belonged to the Onyx Queen. I want you to have it.”
Heather took a step back. “Konig…”
“Things are changing,” he said firmly. “I swear.”
Konig had already expressed an interest in Heather—the kind of interest a normal unseelie often had in any other sidhe. The kind that, had he not been married to a half-angel, would have resulted in many steamy, mead-soaked nights under the stars.
But Heather had turned him down. Until Marion was on board, the archer refused to get involved with Konig.
Marion wouldn’t need to be on board for anything soon.
Heather rested her hand on Konig’s, curling his fingers closed around the ring. “Look, I didn’t come here to talk. And I didn’t even come here for your summons. I’ve got bad news to deliver.”
“Take the ring first,” Konig said.
“Not until you listen to me. Jaycee Hardwick has escaped.”
His closed fingers clenched into a rock-hard fist. “Escaped?”
“She vanished from the abattoir. We don’t know how and we can’t find her.”
Konig whirled on the looking glass again, sweeping his fingers over its surface. It shimmered like water. When things grew clear, it no longer showed the army in the Wilds, but a thousand flashing images. The looking glass was searching for Jaycee.
He stretched his mind out into the Autumn and Winter Courts as the mirror searched, too.
But Jaycee wasn’t there.
She wasn’t anywhere that he could feel.
How quickly effusive joy turned into rage. The very vines that had been blossoming in the sunlight were now shriveling, dropping leaves, bleeding wine all over the floor. Clouds gathered over the tower as thunder began rolling.
“Are the Raven Knights searching?” Konig asked.
“That’s another thing.” Heather was unimpressed by Konig’s anger, arms folded across her chest and an eyebrow lifted. “The Raven Knights can’t search. They’re not even here. Marion pulled her original authority as steward, which can supersede royal authority in times of war. She’s sent the Raven Knights to Earth.”
He’d told her no. Taken away the seventh legion. Showed her how he expected her to submit. And she’d gone behind him to take the Raven Knights anyway.
“I’m going to kill her,” Konig said.
This time, the thunder boomed so close that the stained-glass window cracked.
As difficult as the Hardwicks were to locate, Marion was not. When Konig reached out for her, he found Marion locked inside her bedroom in Niflheimr. Her old bedroom. The jungle where she’d hidden while refusing to share Konig’s bed, depriving him of power.
There were layers upon layers of wards upon the door’s locks, and on the walls that surrounded the room. Had those spells been on another gaean plane, then they most likely would have been impenetrable.
No part of Konig’s kingdom was impenetrable to him. No amount of magic could keep him out.
With a thrust of his fists, the wall to Marion’s old bedroom crumbled.
She was exposed to the hallway. It was so warm and moist inside that steam spilled over the floor.
She rose from her desk, eyes wide. She was accompanied by two handmaidens—Aoife and Tove—as well as Ymir hunched over in the corner.
“Konig?” Oh, how innocent Marion sounded, as if she had no clue what she could have done to make him angry.
He snapped his fingers at the handmaidens. “Out!”
They looked questioningly at Marion.
Not at Konig. At Marion.
“Detain them?” Heather asked, edging up to Konig’s side. Her bow was loose in her fist, her other fingers resting atop her quiver.
“I don’t care about them,” he said.
“Could you please accompany them to Myrkheimr?” Marion asked, resting her fingers on Ymir’s wrist.
The frost giant hesitated. “But you said—”
“Please,” she interrupted.
He nodded. “Okay.”
Aoife and Tove kept their gazes down as they rushed past, stumbling over the rubble that remained after Konig tore the wall down. Ymir formed a wall of ice at their backs. His heavy footfalls shook the floor Konig stood on.
Konig watched them go, feeling the rage claw in his breast.
For the first time, he heard thunder in the Winter Court. It had followed him from Myrkheimr and made the entire tower shake with the force of it. The storm raging outside wasn’t one of snow, but rain.
Marion was wearing a sleek white dress that looked both deceptively innocent and damningly seductive. The thin material hugged her tiny waist and bony hips. It was cut low enough in the front that another centimeter would have bared areola, which seemed even more revealing since she wore elbow-length gloves again. Her curls were a dark spill over the rich olive of the skin. She wore the diadem—one more insult, reminding him of his mother, and the power he’d given her when Konig had deigned to wed Marion.
A beautiful woman. Physically, she shouldn’t have been an embarrassment at Konig’s side.
“The Raven Knights,” he said.
Marion lifted her chin. “You wouldn’t leave me the seventh. I didn’t have a choice.”
Konig’s power blasted the rubble out of his path, and it punctured the mossy trees like tiny daggers. The floor boiled around him. Cruel stalactites drove like fangs from the ceiling, and Marion edged away from one that nearly sliced into her shoulder.
“I told you no!” he said.
“You also told me yes, at another time,” Marion said. “Should I be responsible for deciphering your inconsistent moods? Or should you respect my authority as queen and steward?”
Disrespect, impudence. His mother would have never spoken to his father like that.
Konig swung. A backhand.
Her head turned to the side from the impact, more like she was looking away than reacting with pain. Red marks appeared on her cheek.
Marion’s eyes snapped back to his. “You’re making a mistake,” she said.
She wasn’t afraid or respectful.
“At least you’ve stopped pretending,” Konig said.
Some kind of emotion moved across her features. He’d long since given up trying to guess at what she was feeling. Whether it
was really a thrill of satisfaction or disrespect or annoyance…gods, Konig didn’t care.
She’d taken the Raven Knights when he’d told her that she explicitly was not permitted.
Konig slapped her again from the other direction. Her head turned the other way. “Do you have Wintersong leading them?”
Marion was silent, hand on her jaw. A bruise was rapidly rising.
“I should have killed him as soon as I realized he was so enamored with you,” Konig said.
“I’m his queen,” she said. “And yours too. I’m the only reason that you’re king. If I want the Raven Knights, I can have them.”
Konig was moving. The entire palace was in motion.
The ground rolled under Marion’s feet, and she fell into him. He shoved her to the ground.
When his foot connected with Marion’s ribcage, he managed to shock himself with the assault. He was shocked that he’d done it. Shocked at how satisfying it felt when he heard the air thrusting out of her lungs.
Shocked when he did it again.
Even more shocked that she didn’t try to get up.
When she was sprawled out like this, it looked like Marion sprawling out on a bed to receive him. Waiting for Konig to use her body the way he wanted, in whatever fashion would best fuel his magic.
She rolled onto her back. Her curls spilled over the ice that consumed her bedroom and her cheeks were flushed.
Konig’s cock stiffened.
He pressed his heel into Marion’s chest. “You treat me like shit, you act like you run the world—”
“Konig,” she gasped out. Just like the way she gasped his name during sex.
“You wouldn’t be queen without me. You’d be nothing without me!”
He leaned his weight on his heel.
Konig thought he heard something crack.
Maybe that was too far. Breaking her bones—that was the kind of thing his father would have punched him for doing.
But when he stepped back, Marion didn’t apologize. She only rasped out, “The domain of the Voice of God is much vaster than that of the Middle Worlds.”
