Chapter 12 He Lies
~ YILAN ~
A week after that awful ceremony, an announcement went out to every Neph in the city that the king would appear in the Coliseum after the dinner hour.
Thank God it was the cold season, which meant it was already dark at that time.
I could shadow walk Melek and I, while he flew us to the top of the stone wall that circled the Coliseum, right in the shadow of the tower, where none of the light from the torches and lanterns reached.
Melek had been twitchy from the moment we’d heard the news from Caelan—whom Jann was sending every few days to “clean Melek’s apartments in case he returned.”
I’d seen the look that passed between her and Melek when she told us. I confronted him the moment she was gone.
“What’s going on? Why did you look nervous?”
Melek’s eyes went flat. “Because, I’m praying this isn’t what I think it is.”
“Which is what?”
“A display of the pregnant queen.”
My blood ran cold. “What do you mean… display?”
Melek only shook his head and told me to pray…
The Coliseum below us rumbled with the anticipation of the Nephilim hoards. So far, the stage remained empty. Then the torches along the walls flickered, as the curtains in the wings twitched back.
A low roar filled the air when Gall walked out of the wings, his expression tight. From this distance I couldn’t see his eyes clearly, but whatever was going on, he was followed by the Advisors—including Jann—though without Diadre, or any of the other women this time.
They filed onto the stage behind him, and it wasn’t until one of the other Advisors raised his hands to quiet the applause, and the shouts of the Nephilim in the audience began, that I realized who was missing. Namely, Istral. And Lucifer.
‘Melek, what’s going on?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m cautiously hopeful since Istral isn’t here.’
‘Where is that Fallen fuck, though?’
Melek only shook his head. Of course he couldn’t answer. I reached for Diadre to see if she could ask Jann, but she wasn’t close enough for me to reach.
What the fuck was going on?
The crowd bubbled with unease. Gall stood at the center of the stage, his chin high, but even from this distance I could see the deep smears of red on his cheeks.
He was embarrassed? Or angry?
“Thanks for coming,” Gall called when the crowd finally quieted enough for him to be heard.
I frowned. While I was glad to see that tonight we apparently got the real Gall—the soft, uncertain male—the hair on the back of my neck stood up, because it was very clear that the Nephilim hadn’t expected this. And they weren’t pleased.
Over the following, painful minute, Gall stumbled on his words, restarted sentences several times, then offered a garbled apology before blurting out, “I’m here to tell you the queen is pregnant!”
I froze, my stomach turning to a block of ice. Melek squeezed my hand. Neither of us looked away.
“Melek—”
He shushed me, and squeezed my hand again, shaking his head. His expression was deeply concerned.
At first, the Neph seemed pleased—there was applause and a few roars. But then voices peppered the air—individuals shouting.
“Where is she?”
“Display her!”
“If she’s pregnant, prove it!”
Gall’s eyes went round and he looked over his shoulder, then back to the crowd, raising his hands and gesturing to the Neph, as if to shush them. “It’s good news! You should be happy!”
Oh, Gall. What are you doing?
“Where is she?!”
“He lies! If she had conceived, the Fallen would be here to celebrate!”
“Display the queen!”
My heart broke anew, watching Gall’s panic grow—and my fury right along with it as the Advisors, who were supposed to be his help and counsel, stood back and let him receive the accusations and complaints without any show of support.
“What the fuck is Jann doing?!”
“He’s playing the game he’s been told to play,” Melek muttered under the level of the shouting below. But I could feel his increasing tension and anger too. Gall was fumbling. And the Neph below him were beginning to boil.
“No, stop! Just—just listen! The queen is pregnant! That’s not a lie—I wouldn’t lie about that. I just didn’t want her to get scared. She can be pregnant even if you don’t see her—”
“Display the queen!”
“Prove it!”
“He lies—the king lies!”
Finally, as the crowd began to shift and boil, as Gall backed away from the long arms reaching to the stage, and the threat that he might soon be overwhelmed, finally the Advisors circled up around him—but their faces were grim masks, and they did nothing to soothe the crowd.
Melek scanned the Coliseum, his brow furrowed with concern, his jaw set in anger. “If someone doesn’t intercede quickly, they’re going to frenzy,” he whispered. I felt his body tense, and grabbed his hand tighter.
“No! Melek—you wouldn’t stand a chance. Your allies aren’t here. You can’t—”
“They’ll kill him without a second thought. They have no mercy, Yilan. He’s breaking the traditions, and Lucifer isn’t here to remind them of the power behind him.”
Gall, shaking his head, kept his hands open and palms out, as if asking for mercy, had backed all the way to the toes of his Advisors—who tightened their ranks, and didn’t allow him to push through where he might have disappeared from sight.
Melek and I were both on our feet in the shadows. He leaned forward, teeth bared, a growl rising in his throat. I leaned back, gripping his arm, shoving a plea through the bond, begging him not to put himself in the growing melee.
Then the crowd churned. Like waves in a bath, bodies shifted and surged.
A massive Neph in the front row clamped an arm on the stage and pulled himself up onto the dais.
A handful of others tumbled onto the stairs at either side.
The shouts became roars and Melek strained, screaming for Jann to help.
But his plea was swallowed by the noise of the crowd.
Gall, who stood at the back of the stage, eyes round as plates, looking back and forth over his shoulder, then to the seething crowd below. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what he said over the furious roar of the Nephilim on the brink of frenzy.
More and more Nephilim pushed to the stage, and the audience bubbled and simmered as the Advisors finally sprang to life—attempting to place themselves as a line of protection between Gall and the Nephilim climbing the stage.
Jann stood, holding his spear—the others, tightening ranks on either side of him, in front of Gall—but they hadn’t even tried to address the crowd.
They shouted and gestured at the males who’d climbed up from the audience and were descending on them, attempting to reach Gall.
The tensions in the Coliseum ratcheted up with every passing breath. Panic screamed in my head, as I saw how these events would tumble out of control and I might lose both Gall and Melek.
“Please, Melek!” I screamed, then switched to the bond when he didn’t even register my voice. ‘Please, don’t—you can’t be seen—’
‘They’re going to kill him!’ Melek rounded on me, where I gripped his arm, dragging my heels, attempting to stop him from throwing himself off the wall and flying to the stage. ‘He doesn’t have a clue—’
A terrifying, gut-wrenching scream cut through the roar of the crowd.
We both whirled, looking for the source, but unable to identify it at first—until I felt Melek jerk back a step. His lips made the shape “No, please!” and his eyes were so wide I could see the whites all the way around.
Following his gaze, still gripping Melek’s hand, I scanned the stage for—
I sucked in a breath, and went cold as if I’d been doused by a winter river.
At the center of the stage, behind the line of Advisors who’d now turned to put their backs to us, sprawled a massive Nephilim with golden hair and thick shoulders swathed in a royal cape.
Gall.
As those closest to him hunched, then sprang backwards with shocked cries, he rolled over and gave another tortured scream, and a piece of my heart died.
A wicked, Nephilim bolt stuck out of his eye socket.
Gall grasped it with both hands, flipping and writhing on the stage, his legs flailing, and the Advisor’s shouting—Jann was there, directing others and trying to keep Gall from harming himself further—but just as my guts turned to stone and my eyes welled, Gall stopped writhing.
He froze, back arched so high only his shoulders and ass touched the stage. His heels drummed, silent among the Nephilim masses cheering, roaring, cursing…
And then he slumped. His bloodied hands slipped from where he’d gripped that awful, thick arrow, and his body went still.