“We must strategize how to defeat him, so we can return to New City. There’s more than one war we will have to fight.” Mammon speaks for the first time. His scowl is familiar, but his eyes betray him. He’s nervous.
“The castle is a stronghold. We have over ten thousand soldiers, and we can call back five thousand from the lands. It will take time for them to arrive, but it is possible. Tell me what you need, brother.” The beautiful demon gives all this attention to Nox. Brother?
“Donaas, that will not be necessary. Scur will not be traveling with that many soldiers, and once he’s in the Darklands, the magic will tell me.”
“Vargroth, do we have maps of the highlands? I want to see what his point of entry will be,” Uriel asks. The slender demon gets up from his chair and goes to the far table. He grabs an enormous map, then lays it on the table in front of us.
The Demon Realm is much bigger than I thought. The Darklands take up most of the map, but the Bloodlands have more resources. There is a little territory to the left of the Darklands. It’s not marked.
“What is there?” I ask, laying my finger on the map.
“The Deathlands. It is a place where no one goes. The mad king lives there. He is the original Fallen,” Uriel explains.
“You mean Lucifer?” I ask, eyebrows furrowed.
“This isn’t Hell, Anima. Lucifer is in a cage within the fires. The king of the Deathlands is Caedis. His name means murder. He’s the one true Fallen. The god-killer.”
The foreboding feeling I got when we entered the hall has just heightened. The mention of his name is bad. It’s like calling to your own death.
He will come.
I jerk my head toward Namir, who is awake and watching everyone. His eyes shine gold, and there is something wrong about the way he gets up from the floor.
“Namir says he will come. Is that a bad thing?” I ask. The room stiffens as if it’s an old towel hung on a line in the scorching sun.
“It’s a terrible thing. We must rid ourselves of Scur before he gets here. There is no way we can fight two kings,” Umbra says, leaning her elbows on the table, her face in her hand.
Donaas rises from his chair, then crosses the room. He kneels next to her, rubbing her back. “It will be okay, love. Nox has returned. Uriel is beside us once more. We will not fail.”
She rubs her face before steadying herself. “It has been hard without you, Nox. There are games at court that I didn’t think I could win. If it weren’t for my mates, we would have lost the throne.”
“It will never happen again. I am home. Anima is here. The succession of our line lives on.”
“My place is not here,” I say, spitting it out without thinking. Defiance is etched on my face, daring them to tell me otherwise. I never agreed to stay in the Demon Realm. I’m not a ruler.
Nox’s stare bores into me. There’s nothing he can say to change my mind, but that won’t stop him. If I’ve learned anything about Nox, I know he gets his way.
“When will Scur come?” Donaas asks.
Tell him within one month. He is still recovering from our attack. He’s gathering more troops for the attack.
“Namir says it will take him one month to recover from the last battle,” I repeat.
“You speak with the white tyger?” Umbra asks, eyebrows raised.
“He is my soul-bonded.”
I recognize it for the first time. Of all the things that have happened with my magic, he’s the one thing I know for certain the Fates got right. He’s a part of me like no other. Torque is my fated mate, but Namir exists inside of me.
She swallows, and her eyes dart to Namir. He gives her a toothy smile, and her face pales a bit. She’s a warrior, but Namir is something different. The Realm created his magic. It’s rooted to the land. And now so is mine.
“If it will take him a month to come for us, we have enough time to prepare. Togmerin, gather your troops and set the command. Send messengers to have the others on standby should we need them,” Nox orders.
“Sister, let us show our guests to their rooms, then you and I will talk about what has happened at court. I’m eager to spill some of this anger.” Nox rises from the table, and the rest of us follow suit.
Seven
TORQUE
There has only been one other time I’ve been inside the castle of the dark king. I was a boy, and my father took me to celebrate the birth of the new princess.
Umbra has changed much in that time. Her power shows through her as if she was born into grace. Anima shows the same strength and perseverance.
“Torque, we need to talk,” Mammon says, bursting through the door of the bedroom they assigned me. It isn’t close enough to Anima.
“I can see you are keen to do so. Come sit.” I wave my hand to the couch in the sitting room.
“Taking up the regal tone, I see. What happened to our pres?” he asks. He plops onto the couch, reaching for the decanter on the table.
He pours two glasses of demonwine. It’s been ages since I’ve had a taste, and my mouth waters at the thought.
“I have to play the part. I can’t let them see me as anything less than royal. Even if Anima stands between us, they’re still the Dark. The hatred between our kinds will not go away because I’m fated to the princess of the Dark.”
“I’ve missed being a general,” Mammon says. He sips his wine, getting up from his seat and going to the hearth. He grabs the fire poker, moving the burning logs around. Bits of ash fly out, landing on the carpet.
“That’s not permission for you to shed unnecessary blood. Even if
