It was only when one of them was here that this dark place felt like home.
5
Melisande
He didn’t come back that night.
I tossed and turned in the darkness, internally pummeling myself for not just swallowing my pride and saying what I really thought, and when Vyra tapped on my door the next day with an invitation sealed in wax, I took it and sat down on the bench for her to play with my hair without a second thought.
“Why so sad, Melisande?” she asked, happily beginning her work on what seemed like a hundred braids.
“Your brother,” I growled, starting when I saw the seal pressed into the red wax: Belial’s sigil.
I’d managed to push Azazel away, so I supposed it was cosmic justice that the Prince of Wrath got to rub a bit more salt in my wounds. “I don’t know what to say when I’m around him, and I always end up screwing everything up.”
I cracked open the seal, letting my fingers linger a touch too long on the wax that Belial had touched.
“At some point, you’re going to have to let go of your pride a little.” Vyra pinned a braid in place, talking around several more she held between her teeth. “Having emotions isn’t a bad thing. It’s called being alive.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her dry tone. She’d hit the mark dead-on.
Gabriel had trained us in pride and hiding our inner selves. It still perversely pleased me to do the exact opposite of what he’d wanted us to do… but at the same time, it was so hard to let go of those lessons.
I unfolded the letter with trembling fingers, smoothing the creased parchment. Belial’s harsh letters spilled across the pages like slashes.
I have a bet for you, angel.
Bring your finest. You might enjoy the outcome.
There was no name signed, no sarcastic barbs, just those few aloof words.
He wanted to make a bet? I’d bet all day and all night.
Anything that would win me Tascius.
“The longer you pretend you don’t want him, the weaker you’ll be against him.”
I looked up from the letter, sucking in air like it would fill the hole in my chest. “I don’t think I can pretend I don’t. It’s obvious to anyone who sees me near him.”
“But it’s your pride you’re fighting against, and it’s always a losing battle for you.” Vyra brushed paint over my lips. “Stop. Being. So. Prideful.”
“It’s the way I was made,” I muttered, standing up to step into her latest creation. It was another dark dress, with raven feathers at the hem and around my throat. Tiny diamonds studded the fabric like the night sky.
“No,” Vyra corrected, lacing the back between my wings. “It’s the way the archangels made you. You’re the Lady of Wrath now. No one’s going to be turned off if you just let yourself loose… least of all Belial or my brother.”
“It’s just hard to let the words out when I’m feeling it.”
Vyra smiled as I slipped my silver claws over my fingertips. “I know. Believe me, I know. There are so many things I wish I could say and somehow, I never find the courage. But I’m not going to let you fall into that hole with me.”
I kissed her cheek, smelling jasmine and sugar on her skin. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”
“Or maybe I’m exactly what you deserve,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m your own personal demon to whisper on your shoulder.”
“You’re not pocket-sized or I’d let you sit there all day.”
“Just go,” she said, nudging me towards the door. “Try to swallow your pride for once. You don’t have to live in a misery of your own making.”
I strode into Belial’s arena, already packed to the brim with demons, and the moment his eyes met mine I knew I’d need to nuke my pride with a hellfire explosion before I’d apologize first.
His smirk was taunting. He knew I wouldn’t have been able to resist his invitation.
My Chainlings swarmed my dais, raising the raven-feather banners for me. I’d brought only several, but one of them was apparently renowned far and wide as being an Inner Initiate of the Mysteries of the Chain.
This apparently translated to him being an extreme badass, therefore he was my champion, all the Chainlings agreed.
I sat on my throne and the demons swarmed in, held back only by the silence of my followers, who surrounded the dais like a bodyguard.
My champion sat at the base, patiently waiting. He seemed confident of himself, with no need to twirl his chains or put on an act for the crowd.
I glanced at Belial, who lounged on his dais lazily, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
It ripped at me that he’d only called me here because he knew I couldn’t resist the possibility of seeing Tascius. Or himself. It was a weapon he could always use against me.
“What bet did you have for me, Prince?”
To my surprise, shadows emerged on the dais opposite me as Azazel arrived. The Watcher settled on his chair, his violet eyes piercing me through.
I shivered under that gaze, and it wasn’t unpleasant at all. Perhaps I hadn’t completely pushed him away.
Belial gave Azazel an exasperated look before turning his gaze back to me. “Your Chainling against one of my champions. Winner takes all.”
Excitement stirred low in my stomach. If he offered Tascius…
I didn’t ask the Chainlings what they thought of my offering one of them up as a bet this time. They’d made it very clear that they were tired of my constant questioning of the orders I gave them, until one of them had approached me and told me that a proper Link in the Chain didn’t ask permission, she just forged her way as she saw fit.
Leading fanatic cultists who were willing to throw themselves on a dagger on command was turning out to be an eye-opening experience.
“I accept. I send my Inner Initiate as my champion into the
