I backed up a step. His fangs were showing. It was very off-putting to see a wolf’s fangs in a human’s mouth.
“Okay,” I said, holding my hands up. “First off, I’m not precisely Lucifer’s spawn.”
“Intervening generations do not change the fact that you are of his blood,” Jude growled.
“Okay, whatever,” I said. I wasn’t about to get embroiled in genetic technicalities with Jude, who clearly wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t near me. “Listen, can you tell me how to get to the throne room? I seem to have made a wrong turn somewhere.”
He smirked at me. “All the powers of the devil don’t come with a compass?”
“Fine, don’t help me,” I said, pushing past him. Obviously Jude had some issues that precluded the possibility of his acting like a civilized human being.
“Wait a second,” he said, and grabbed my shoulder roughly.
Something flashed through my head—Nathaniel holding me in place by my shoulders. I turned on Jude with a yell and knocked his hand from me. My breath came hard and my hands were curled into fists.
He stepped back a little and held up his arms to show he wasn’t dangerous. I could see him examining my face closely and I felt a wave of embarrassment redden my cheeks.
“Who hit you?” he growled.
“Nobody. I fell last night, remember?” I looked down. I couldn’t believe I was lying, making excuses.
He put his hand under my chin, more gently than I thought him capable, and forced my face up to his.
“Somebody hit you,” he said. “I can smell a lie.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, getting some of my gumption back. “I blasted him across the room, so he paid for it.”
“Good,” Jude said shortly, and dropped his hand away. “Follow me. I’m going to the throne room anyway.”
He started down the hallway again. I trotted after him, which was necessary because he was quite a bit taller than me and it took me five steps for every one of his.
He didn’t say anything else, and I was okay with that. I didn’t know what to make of that moment in the hallway, and I’m sure he didn’t either. He was probably already regretting being nice to a descendant of Lucifer. Beezle had caught up with us and settled on my shoulder, letting me do the heavy lifting.
Several minutes later we were at a side entrance to the throne room. Apparently this was the way you came in when you weren’t being formally announced. There were several knots of courtiers already assembled in little cliques around the room.
Amarantha was receiving the various parties that had arrived that morning. There were a couple of different faerie factions from other parts of the country coming in. She looked completely in her element, and I wondered how long she’d practiced that look of benevolent tolerance before she’d perfected it.
Jude took off for the small party of wolves on the opposite side of the room and I looked around for J.B. Wade saw me and gave me a friendly wave, but his brows were furrowed as he consulted with the other wolves.
None of the other courtiers seemed inclined to invite me into their group. I stood awkwardly off to the side, looking hopefully around for someone who would want to talk to me. It probably didn’t help that Beezle had fallen asleep on my shoulder and he was snoring loud enough to wake the dead.
I felt a tap on the shoulder that wasn’t hosting a fat, lazy gargoyle and a second later J.B. was in front of me. I took Beezle off my shoulder because my right ear was deaf and stuffed him in one of the patch pockets on the front of my suit. His arms and head hung over the seam of the pocket, but he kept snoring. I was getting a little worried about Beezle.
I wasn’t exactly sure how old he was, but he definitely seemed to be slowing down lately. What would I do if he turned to stone?
“You look like Molly Ringwald in that movie where she shows up at the prom without a date,” J.B. said.
“Does that make you my Andrew McCarthy?” I asked.
“Only if you promise not to call me Blaine,” he replied, and then his face creased in anger. I knew he’d seen the shadow of the bruise through my makeup. “What happened to you?”
“Can we not talk about it?” I asked. I really wasn’t up for telling the whole story now, and my lies were so pathetically feeble that J.B. would see right through them.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the side of the room, away from nosy courtiers.
“No, I really would like to talk about it, because there’s only one thing that could make a bruise like that. A fist.”
I sighed. J.B.’s testosterone was up. The last thing I needed was him going after Nathaniel. I didn’t even want to think about what kinds of problems that would cause between the courts of the faerie and the fallen.
“Okay, you win. I got hit, but I hit him back and now it’s all over so you don’t need to ride to my rescue,” I said quickly and quietly. “I was in a lot more danger when I faced Ramuell.”
“Just tell me who did it,” J.B. said grimly.
“No,” I said. “I don’t want you to get involved in this.”
“For chrissakes. When the hell are you going to trust me?” he said, rubbing his hands through his hair in frustration.
I looked at him in surprise. “I do trust you. You’re probably the closest friend I have after Beezle.”
There was speculation in his green eyes. “Really? Closer than Gabriel?”
“Gabriel is my bodyguard,” I said stiffly.
J.B. snorted. “He wants something to do with your body, but it ain’t guarding that he’s thinking about.”
That was the second time in less than twelve hours that my relationship with Gabriel had been questioned. Apparently, we had done a super-crappy job of trying to keep things secret. What made it even worse was that nothing had really happened between us. There was just a lot of longing and the restless nights that go with it.
And this was yet another topic that I was not keen to discuss in a room full of avidly watching courtiers.
“Did Wade tell your mom about the wolf killing last night?” I asked.
“Yes, and she’s not happy about it,” he said with a small smile. He seemed to enjoy his mother’s annoyance.
“Why not?” I asked. “I mean, beyond the obvious.”
“It’s a terrible insult to the wolves that this occurred in Amarantha’s own courtyard. It indicates a breach of security and violates a ton of faerie rules involving etiquette and the safety of guests.”
“So she’s pissed because now they have more leverage to negotiate for that land that they want. They’ve been insulted and she has to repay them,” I guessed.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “She’s in a real snit about it.”
“Well, if she’s anything like my father, then it would be good for her to not get her way now and then.”
“I think so, too . . .” he said, and trailed off.
He stared at something over the heads of the courtiers. The room had gone completely silent except for the swishing of fabric as everyone turned to look at the main entrance to the court.
I stood on my tiptoes and tried to see. Unfortunately that only made me five foot two instead of five foot. Considering that most of the faeries were built on the tall and lean scale this meant that all I saw were a lot of shoulder blades.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Shh,” J.B. said.
The faerie toady who stood by the door announced the arrivals. “Lord Focalor of the kingdom of the fallen, escorted by Antares ap Azazel and sundry demons, and bearing a gift for Queen Amarantha.”
Antares. Focalor. What in the four hells were they doing here?
The crowd parted as they approached the throne. I could see Antares, and the demon that had been in my vision, the one that had negotiated with Samiel. So my guess was correct—he was Focalor.
A crowd of smaller demons followed behind Focalor and Antares. Antares held a leash in his hands attached to a figure who walked between my half brother and his lord.
His back was covered in lash marks, he was filthy, his black wings drooped, and his hands were bound behind his back. But his head was high and his dark eyes burned with anger.
