Devil's Punch

He nodded.

“It was…prudent,” I explained, marveling that I felt the need for his understanding. “A consort who has fallen out of favor can foment rebellion among other malcontents, destabilizing entire zones.”

“Any man would be bitter over losing you,” he said.

I had heard such words before shaped in idle flattery, but this was the first time I believed them. His sincerity sparked between us, and it was terrifying. I had lost myself once; I could easily do so again.

“I love the way you kiss me.”

He paused, distracted. “You do?”

“Yes. You kiss me like you mean it. Always.”

“I lost a layer of civilization somewhere along the way, I guess, but I’m glad it works for you.” Chance went on, not looking at me, “Tell me where this ends. An execution when you tire of me?”

The pain at this mere possibility eviscerated me. I would do anything to prevent it. Kill anyone. Burn the city I loved. His safety might as well be written in runes on my skin; I could never harm Chance.

“Never. You’re mine, always. I will bind myself with the ritual they use upon the Imaron to reassure you, if you wish. That way, any actions I take against you would cost my own life. In truth, I’d prefer it that way.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “No, I don’t need the spell to believe you. Can’t live without me, huh?”

“I can,” I said. “I don’t want to.”

“Me either.” He leaned his forehead against mine.

Greydusk knocked then. I donned a robe quickly, dropped the wards on the door, and answered. “Is the estate secure?”

“It is, my queen.”

That night should have signified the best time of my life. It should have heralded halcyon days.

Instead it marked the beginning of the end.

All In

Two nights later, the first indication of new trouble came in the form of a terrified Noit servant dancing outside my door. “Monsters,” it shrieked. “Monsters!”

Since the Noit preferred to communicate in annoying, obscure rhyme, the situation must be dire, even if I didn’t have all the details yet. I dressed quickly in my combat clothing—all black—and boots, athame strapped to my thigh. Chance was already pulling his pants on, roused by the Noit and the commotion outside our rooms.

“Report,” I demanded of Greydusk as I found him in the hallway.

“The Vortex has gone down.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“Unknown, my queen. But the Xaraz have taken the opportunity to strike. They’ve overrun the Luren quarter and are marching toward the Barrens.”

“And the monsters?” Chance asked.

Greydusk replied, “You remember the Gorder? There are worse things in the wastes beyond our walls. Thumpers, magickeaters, wailers. They’ll all come without the Vortex to repel them. It will be mass carnage.”

The Imaron seemed shaken, looking to me to set the situation to rights, but I’d never even heard of a spell strong enough to disable the Vortex, even temporarily. Unless…“Could it be done if all the surviving Saremon worked in concert?”

“Perhaps,” the demon answered.

A link of that magnitude, similar to what Greydusk and I had done in the courtyard, would be unspeakably powerful. Normally demon mages didn’t trust one another enough to permit such an undertaking, but when their survival depended on my extermination, desperate times called for desperate measures. It was a bold stroke and one that would end the battle once and for all.

I wished I still felt confident that I would win.

“Have they breached our walls?”

“No.”

“Protect the city,” I said. “Send a runner to the Hazo. They must fight. It’s what they live for, after all.”

In earlier times I would have had a trained military to handle this threat, but I was still putting the pieces back together. They’d struck sooner than I expected, and I wasn’t ready. My spies hadn’t brought me the names of the conspirators, so I didn’t yet know who I could trust.

Helpless and blind, Corine whispered in my head. You are no true queen, only a pathetic echo of ages lost. Let me out. Let me fight.

This was an odd juxtaposition. Once, it was me, whispering to her as I scrabbled to gain a foothold. Now, I felt tempted to turn the mess I’d created over to her. While I worried, Chance slipped his gloves on, flexed long fingers, and whispered the command word. Flames burst to life around his knuckles—a pure white-blue, unlike the last time.

I glanced at Greydusk. “Does that mean something?”

“The gloves only burn like that for a true king.”

Chance offered a crooked smile. “Told you.”

That roused a smile and dampened some of my worry. “Did we confiscate anything that could help in defense of the city?”

“No, my queen. You instructed me to focus on household goods.”

So I had. It seemed important to get the palace habitable so I had a base of operations. A queen did not beg shelter from her subjects like a supplicant. In consequence, I wasn’t ready for such a battle. Fine. I’d improvise. My human half was best at that anyway.

I grabbed the Noit running up and down the hall, delighted with the chaos it had created, and slapped it across the back of the head to settle it down. Satisfied that I had its attention, I demanded, “Were you outside the walls just now?”

“Yes, Majesty!”

“And you saw the monsters?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“And where were they? How far away?”

I couldn’t cower and let the Saremon wreck the city. There would be nothing left for me to govern. If the creatures had already ruined the Luren sector and were headed to the Barrens, there must be a reason—

“March, march, eat our hearts!” it sang.

“Offer me another poem instead of a sensible reply and I’ll eat your heart myself.” I meant it, though it would doubtless be black, shriveled, and disgusting. Even if it made me sick for a week, I’d keep my word.

The Noit knew it too; the creature sobered. “Apologies, my queen. Sometimes one gets carried away playing the clown.”

“Understood.”

“The situation is dire. The gates have fallen and the Vortex is long gone. The Noit and Phalxe sectors are burning. There are monsters everywhere. Magick hangs in the air, remnants of heavy spell casting. People are panicked, and they’re fighting in the streets. I’m not sure they even know who the enemy is.”

“Tell the castle staff not to venture outside the courtyard walls. Dismissed.”

The little Noit scurried off to carry out my orders, leaving me with Chance and Greydusk. Before I could formulate a plan of action, Shannon ran down the hall toward us. Her black hair was spiked, standing on end, but not on purpose, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well. A pang of regret pierced me. I didn’t want this life for her.

“What the hell’s going on?” she asked.

Greydusk filled her in while I paced. Leaving the castle grounds might be foolhardy if the Saremon were trying to draw me out, but at least this would end. And then I had the answer. Thank you, human female witch. A quieter echo: Thanks, Mom.

“This way,” I said. “Quickly.”