Chapter Sixteen
Bellamy
S urely this was a dream.
It had to be, because there was no reality in which I should be gifted with a sight as magnificent as Asher descending the stairs in that dress. She was more beautiful than any painting, her red dress fitting to every curve and hollow of her body, her eyes alight with more joy than I had seen in them since our time in The Royal City. Perhaps even before then.
Maybe I was vain for thinking so, but I could not resist the idea that it was the sight of me waiting for her that brought that smile to her red lips. The color was a perfect match to her dress, the kohl that lined her eyelids coming out to a sharp point on the outer edges. She had rouge on her cheeks, the pink tint growing darker with each step she took my way.
Even with it all, I knew the allure was simply her . That biting humor of hers was always quick to remind others to remain humble. The way she demanded attention, authority coating her and dripping at the flick of her wrist or blink of her eye. Every kind and considerate thought she had. The way she seemed to gravitate towards aiding others. Her magic—the pure power of it enough to bring anyone to their knees. She was Eternity incarnate, a goddess walking among us.
Her exceptional temper and hesitancy to trust were endearing as well. No part of her was anything less than immaculate. Nothing other than perfect, for me, for Eoforhild, and for all of Alemthian. Asher was our savior, even if she did not know it.
I only wished she could see her own greatness, could sense that magic inside of her and see it for what it was—the answer.
As she closed the distance between us, her eyes glassy, I considered what I needed to give her to ensure she always had that smile—that joy.
The world. I would give her the world if I could.
But, as soon as it came, it vanished, replaced by a soft downturn of her lips and scrutinizing eyes. The novelty of my appearance had clearly worn off, and now, it was questions that filled her mind.
One moment, she was walking to me like a beacon in the night, and the next, she was right there—a breath away. I reached out my hand, and she placed hers into it without hesitation.
“Hello, Princess,” I whispered.
“Hello, demon,” she offered back through upturned lips.
Perhaps it was the high of being reminded that Asher chose me—that she was mine —which led me to snake my arms around her waist, spinning her around. Her melodic laughs filled the throne room, her head falling back and hair fanning out.
When I stopped, I made sure to tug her body even closer to mine, breathing her in. Asher smelled like vanilla and mint and the sun itself.
She pulled away, those big gray eyes boring into me, searching for answers. So many secrets I have kept from her, all wishing to be shared. I wanted to, so badly. She deserved that much, at least. But I could still hear the haunting way that Pino had warned me not to tell her until I could have the audience I needed, none of whom was more important than Adbeel. If he met her, he would understand. He would finally take action. I knew it.
“Okay, love birds, we do have company,” Henry said from behind us, his drawl casual. I turned, catching a glimpse of the smile that he attempted to hide with a roll of his eyes.
She is not doing well.
That was what Henry had said three days ago in a letter, telling me all about how badly she was suffering. I would help her. We would find allies and win the war. I would leave her with a castle and a throne and a better life.
Together, with aid, we could do this. She could be happy.
“I think it is you that is considered company, seeing as you are in my home.” The accent was quick and rolling, just as all residents of Behman. But the regal way she spoke the common tongue was what made her voice stand out above all others.
I released Asher from my hold, swiping my thumb across her cheek, before I turned to face the queen that we were supposed to be impressing.
She had not been too difficult when I first arrived. Unlike Asher and Henry, I had portaled straight into her castle, causing quite the scene in her throne room. Although in their defense, it had to be fairly scary for smoke-like shadows to appear out of nowhere, a male walking out as if he is death itself.
Shah had ordered her guards to halt, watching as I lifted my hands up, showing I was unarmed. Then, just for the flair of it, I had lit every wall sconce in the throne room, the hideous yellows and greens of the staircase nauseating under the firelight. Screams had rent the air, reminding me of the sweet sound of the fae at Asher’s so-called wedding. Oh, how I reveled in the fear that my parents had held in their eyes as well as the sound of my dagger cutting into that heinous mortal boy.
“Queen Shah,” I said, turning to face her as I bowed low.
She was wearing a gown made of purple silk, the fabric hugging every wide curve of her body and showing off what had once been sold away to a man three times her age. Despite being a couple of inches shorter than me, Shah held herself with the sort of confidence that made it seem as if she were towering over us all. Her liberation seemed to remind her of her worth, and she showed that now with her proud stance and commanding aura. As if she were screaming to us all that she was a ruler who deserved the crown atop her head.
Red bangles clinked together—at least ten bracelets stacked on each of her wrists. Her crown was gold, the intricate twists and curls of it reaching up towards the ceiling, meeting in a single point at the center.
None of that was what truly made her eye-catching though. No, it was Shah’s tattoos that drew attention. Her dark skin was covered in Behman tongue and images and seemingly random line work. None of it was unintentional. I had learned of the tradition of tattooing within this kingdom. Their desire to collect their victories, losses, and everything in between upon their skin, like memories that could not be forgotten.
When I was younger, I had promised myself that, if I ever found a way to get this stolen magic out of my body, I would cover my newly clean skin in my story. As Asher leaned into me, her presence soothing my troubled mind, I wondered if the gods or Eternity would be kind enough to allow me the opportunity to have our story written upon my skin before I die.
“Prince Bellamy,” Shah said, her smile taunting. I did not miss how she refused to bow, just as she had when I first arrived. Such a thing did not bother me when I could not care less about a crown or a title or a gesture of acknowledgement.
Asher moved forward, dipping into a low curtsy and holding herself there. Sometimes I forgot that Asher had been ingrained with matters of diplomacy and ruling, every aspect of her life preparing her to be queen. She was made for this, and that fact shone as she waited on steady legs.
“Queen Shah, it is a pleasure to meet you,” she said, her face still to the floor.
Shah stared at her, brown eyes wide as she took in everything that was Asher Daniox. It was a lot. To be so near Asher meant feeling that pulse of her magic, the demanding nature of it forcing one to submit. When Shah dipped into an equally low curtsy, I nearly let out a mad cackle, but I pursed my lips and covered my mouth, resisting the urge. My eyes flicked over to Henry, who also seemed to be on the verge of a fit of laughter.
The queen’s advisor, Lord Callahan, glared at us from her left. In the hour or so that I had been at Castle Jore, Callahan had screamed at me twice, called me a beast, threatened my life, and scowled at least fifty times. Entertaining did not even begin to describe him. That permanent crease between his brows and downturn of his thin lips was absolutely hilarious.
Asher and Shah both stood, the two of them momentarily frozen as their eyes locked.
“You threatened me,” Shah said, her face stony but voice amused.
My eyes went wide, darting to Asher in surprise. I was aware that she had entered the queen’s mind the moment Shah screamed out, her nails digging into her scalp. But she had threatened her? That seemed so unlike the Asher who was set on choice and peace. Had something gone wrong?
“Well, that is an exaggeration, Your Majesty. I merely told you I wanted an audience,” Asher countered, a small shrug lifting her shoulders. On the outside, she seemed comfortable, completely unfazed by the situation. Inside, I knew she was likely near panicking at the thought of failure.
Luckily for us, Asher rarely did so.
“It felt like you were squeezing my brain!” Shah exclaimed, a baffled laugh following.
Asher smirked, her eyes alight with a small piece of that mischief she used to sport so often in Betovere. Watching her back then had been both painful and intoxicating. She was hurting and trapped, but she was also far more carefree, the feeling of security she held allowing her to play pranks on her friends and sneak out at night and practice her pianoforte for hours on end. I had a sinking feeling that I would never get to see that Asher again, not in this life at least.
“Technicalities.” The wave of Asher’s hand and her growing smile seemed to bring a sense of ease to the room, everyone’s shoulders relaxing a fraction.
“Well, since you went to all the trouble to come here and even dressed in Behman red, would you like to join us for dinner as we discuss whatever it is that you so desperately need to speak with me about?” Shah was being far nicer to Ash than she had been to me, but there was still a hardness to her face that her soft tone could not mask. She did not trust us in the slightest.
All five of us, followed closely by a group of guards in purple and red armor, made our way to a long table at the opposite end of the throne room, the single golden throne a daunting presence at our backs. The red table—so dark it was nearly black—looked large enough to seat dozens, but only six places were set, one more than we technically needed.
I paused, my head tilting to the side as I considered that. There was to be another guest. But who? Of course, it had likely been discovered that there were immortal beings within Behman, but had anyone realized that Henry was a demon? Or that Asher was the fae princess?
Clicking sounded to my right, the classic sound of heels meeting the floor. My head whipped around, catching the brown-eyed gaze of a woman. Her hair was like spun gold, the curls thick and bordering on unruly. Her pale skin had a slight blush to it, as if being in this room made her nervous. Still, her posture was impeccable, her head high and chin raised as she made her way to us. She wore the forest green and navy blue of Maliha, the gown a puff of tulle and silk that skated across the tile below. At her brow was a golden diadem, the diamonds on it bright in the light of the flames.
“Genevieve,” Asher said with a gasp to my left.
This was the soon-to-be queen of Maliha, then—Sterling’s older sister.
Fury filled me at the realization, threatening to burst free and take my magic with it. This disgusting mortal family, which had been the root of so many of my problems, deserved to feel that rage. King Lawrence and Queen Paula raised one monster, the likelihood of the golden heir apparent heading our way being just as evil was high.
“I do apologize for being late, friend. I had quite a lot of dress to attempt to slip into.” Her voice was bright, as if her hair had claimed the sun and that light poured out of her in rays. She had the same heavy accent that all from Maliha had, like her tongue was too large for her mouth, though she spoke the common tongue so well that it was faint in comparison to most in her lands.
“It is not a problem at all. I have saved you a seat by my side,” Shah said, patting the back of the violet chair to her left, directly across from Asher.
Genevieve closed the remaining distance quickly and gracefully, gently taking her seat. Asher went rigid at my side, her hands balled into fists on her lap. I reached over, gripping both of her hands in one of my own and offering a small squeeze of reassurance. Based on her blank stare and pin-straight back, Asher would not relax any time soon.
“Introductions are in order, it seems. This is Genevieve Windsor, Heir Apparent to the kingdom of Maliha. I believe,” Shah said, turning to look Asher in the eye, “you are engaged to her brother.”
Henry growled at my side, the sound rumbling the dishes on the table as his Sun magic faintly leaked from his hands. I felt my own body shake as I stared at the princess, holding myself in my chair with sheer will alone.
Killing her would send the wrong message—not only to the mortals, but to the demons and the fae as well. We could not allow ourselves to be the evil that others deemed us.
It did not slip my attention that I was as hypocritical as they came.
Genevieve’s brown eyes never left Asher’s gray ones—the two females squaring off, both so clearly on edge. Lord Callahan cleared his throat, as if that small sound would quell the growing tension within the room. Genevieve flicked her steely gaze towards him, and I watched with reluctant amusement as the prickly man scrunched back into his seat.
Then she looked my way, and all hints of delight faded.
“Ah yes, and this is Bellamy Ayad, Prince of the Demon Realm,” Shah said rather dismissively. I did not miss the shake in her voice as she said the word demon.
Genevieve’s eyes openly roamed over me, her pink tongue darting out to lick her blue painted lips—the color matching the line of cosmetics on her lids. If Asher had not been schooled in diplomacy, she probably would have combusted on the spot, but—unfortunately for us all—she had been. So, instead of ripping the mortal girl to pieces, Asher simply latched onto my hand with startling force, her nails digging into my skin.
“Believe it or not, I have heard some rather enticing rumors about The Elemental. The most exciting being about what wicked things you can do with that power in your veins. Tell me, is it true that you once made a woman reach completion with only water?” Genevieve’s taunting did not hit the mark she was aiming for, because Asher remained firmly planted in her chair, though I could hear the way her teeth ground together.
Instead, the Princess of Maliha’s mocks left Henry hunching forward, his laughs echoing across the vaulted violet ceilings. Asher snorted beside me, the aura of her magic pressing into me. Whatever she was stealing from the minds around her, it had to be comical.
Genevieve rested her glare on Henry next, her lips turning down in a frown as she watched the Sun catch his breath. He reached a finger up to swipe away a stray tear, his laughter slowly dying out.
“Sorry, I heard something funny and could not help myself,” Henry said, not caring to elaborate further.
“Well, that is quite rude,” Genevieve stated with a scrunch of her button nose.
I rolled my eyes, not interested in hearing her somehow play the victim during this strange dinner. “You just inquired about my sex life and openly flirted with me in front of my—” I cut myself off, not knowing exactly what to refer to Asher as. Would she be upset if I said she was my future queen? My lover? My wife-to-be? My reason for existing?
Genevieve’s gaze lit up with excitement, something sneaky in the brown depths that I had not seen before.
You just played right into her hand. She can spin this in her favor, Bell. She will make me out to be a liar and a fool—an unfaithful wife. If it were just Shah, it would be different, but this is Sterling’s sister.
Bristling at her mental tone, I crossed my arms and offered a curt nod to Ash, letting her know that I was going to play the part of a good little prince. Well, I would try .
“It is very nice to meet you, Genevieve. I am afraid I have not heard much about you from…Sterling. What brings you to Behman?”
Genevieve’s eyes formed slits, her thin lips taking on a sort of pout and her face flaming. Since she already knew what Asher was to me, I let a toothy smile loose on her, leaning over to absently twirl one of Asher’s loose curls. It was more than likely that I was annoying Ash, but oh was it fun.
“I am visiting my close friend, not that it is any of your concern. Though I am quite eager to hear all about whatever it is you are here for. Especially since you are supposedly with my brother as we speak.”
That had me tensing, Asher’s brown hair slipping from my fingers. Henry, ever the open book, let out a soft gasp. Daring a look at Asher, I found her face as blank as ever, nothing in those eyes but boredom.
“Yes, I am also curious, Princess Asher. Is there a reason you have brought demons to my doorstep?” Queen Shah’s question was not filled with the same malice that Princess Genevieve’s was, but I could still sense that fear and distrust in the darting of her eyes and uneven beat of her heart.
None of them had filled me in on exactly what their plan was to win over Shah, but I knew that Asher felt fairly confident that this would be a successful night. Genevieve threw off the balance of her plan, but I had a feeling Asher could still manage this.
My princess, gods bless her, offered Shah a soft smile, her hands releasing mine and absentmindedly straightening the red fabric on her lap. Sparing a glance at Henry, I noted how he too watched Asher’s hands, his brows pinched.
“I am sure you have heard about the coming conflict between the fae and the demons,” Asher said.
Queen Shah’s eyes went wide, Callahan coughing beside her. Servants came out then, carrying trays of what appeared to be some sort of meat and potato dish, the scent of gravy heavy in the air. Our cups were filled to the brim with wine, the color of it the same red as the table. Before Asher could drink hers, I swiped it, sniffing at the liquid. Not poisoned. At least, not with one I could scent.
Asher gasped when I lifted the cup to my lips, aiming to take a sip of hers first. I was planning to make sure that if one of us were to die tonight, it would be the least important of the two, but Henry snatched the glass from me, causing a splash of it to hit the table.
His eyes met Asher’s, and then she nodded. Witnessing how close the two of them had become these last few months was hard, but seeing how that had somehow grown into silent conversations and inside jokes made me hopeful that she was slowly healing.
And, I will admit, it also made my fucking skin crawl.
“ Do drink up, Genevieve. I would not want you to become parched as you listen to my tale.” Her voice was clear, the haunting tone of her magic demanding obedience as Henry held out the cup to Genevieve. Callahan seemed to shrivel at the sound of it, Shah also noticeably shrinking into her chair.
Genevieve snatched Asher’s cup without hesitation, a blank look in her eyes as she dumped back well over half of the glass. Everyone waited, no one daring to breathe while we watched for any signs of poison. When a full minute had passed without Genevieve so much as wincing, we decided it was worth the risk and began partaking, Henry digging into his food with a passion.
Under her breath, I heard Genevieve murmur “pig” and choked on my wine. She was not wrong. I took another long sip of the sweetest wine I had ever tasted, a sort of cherry flavor there in its depths.
“I will not play coy, we need your assistance for what is to—”
Shah cut in before Asher could continue. “We? Who does that consist of, Princess Asher? Your kind, or theirs?” she said with a tone of ice, her head nodding towards Henry and I. This time, I had to physically restrain Henry, pressing my hand into his leg to keep him seated.
“Do not interfere. Trust her to accomplish what she came here to do,” I whispered to him, the words too low and quick for the mortals to hear.
Henry bristled, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching back into his chair much like I had minutes ago. Genevieve watched him as he did, those keen eyes seeing too much.
“If you would let me finish, Your Majesty, then you would know that I mean both. There is no world in which a war does not spell doom for every creature of Alemthian. The fae royals seek to conquer. They want power above all else, and they will not stop with the Demon Realm. Do not think neutrality will save you.” The three mortals all stiffened—their faces betraying their nerves, just as their elevated heart rates did.
Lord Callahan was the first to break free from the spell of Asher’s words. He shook his balding head, his glare boring into the fae princess.
“We have no qualms with the Fae Realm, nor do we plan on creating conflict when it is not needed. Perhaps you have mistaken our silence for neutrality, but we do not stand in the middle. We are firmly on the side of the fae, who seek to rid the world of the demons. Let them return to the Underworld. We care not if—”
“When my crown sits atop your head, then you may speak for the kingdom over which I rule. Until then, do shut up, Lord Callahan,” Shah said, cutting Callahan off mid-sentence. Asher’s answering smile was a thing of divine beauty, the darkness lurking beneath calling to that which hid within me. “That being said, I fail to see how you think I can help you, even if I wanted to. With my limited resources and starving soldiers, I imagine I would be of little aid, especially when Maliha’s forces march with the Fae Realm.”
Surprise filled me at her words, especially since she did not outright deny us. Asher seemed equally surprised, but her baffled expression was trained on Genevieve rather than Shah. Whatever Shah’s words had triggered in the Heir Apparent, it must have been intriguing to silence Asher when she was so clearly winning.
Genevieve blanched, her skin so flushed that she looked sickly. I cocked my head to the side, assessing the stare-down between the two. What were Genevieve’s goals? She would sit on a throne one day, but did she understand what most kings and queens did not—that you cannot rule over a dead kingdom?
“Did you know that the Mounbettons are not my parents?” Asher asked the mortals, her eyes tracing over each of them. All three shook their heads silently, their faces once more stony. “I assumed as much. My parents were murdered. For the longest time, I believed that demons had done that. That they had killed my family and the fae prince. When I was told that demons cut my ears to send a message, that they let me live as a warning—or perhaps an accident—I believed it.”
Wincing internally, I willed my face to remain blank. Now was not the time for Asher to know the truth of how her parents died. One day, when I had both her and Adbeel in the same room, I would let him tell her what befell her family that day.
“Imagine my surprise when I learned that the two fae that I had loved with every fiber of my being—that I had lied and killed and suffered for—were not honest with me about how my parents died. Worse, they had told me false stories of demons attacking our fae, slaughtering en masse over the years.”
If what Asher said surprised the queen, she did not show it. In fact, Shah seemed eerily stoic as she listened. Genevieve, too, was taking the story in stride, acting as if the words were not of importance—or maybe they were simply ones she had already heard.
“Tell me, do you know what it is like to be lied to your whole life? To learn that the beings you had looked at like parents had forced you to kill innocents under the guise of treachery and protecting the masses? I do. I know that feeling intimately. Just as I know what it feels like to be beaten unconscious and then to wake up and see a smile upon the face of the one who made you bleed, listening to them say they love you as if it had all been for your own good. I know what it is like to believe those things, to blame yourself and wish you had not provoked such a punishment.” Asher stuttered then, her voice catching as a single tear streamed down her face.
Shah finally began to show emotion, her brown eyes watering and breathing ragged. Genevieve’s eyes went wide, her lips quivering as she listened despite the clear effort she was putting in to prevent the reaction. To my right, Henry seethed, his fury second only to my own at the broken sound of Asher sharing her story.
“Yet I know worse still. My great love was named Sipho. He was everything I had ever wanted in a lover: kind, brilliant, honest, brave. There was nothing he would not have given me or done for me. The last time I saw him, he was burning alive, Xavier Mounbetton’s flames stealing away his life. Do you know what it is like to hear the desperate screams of your soulmate? To bear witness to the way the flesh you had once kissed and touched and worshiped melted off? To smell the boiling of blood and burning of hair that you dreamed your younglings—children—might someday have? I do.”
She paused, letting her tears stream down her face. Three times now, Asher had told that story. One she had held close to her for nearly two centuries, never letting herself think of it if she could resist, let alone share it with others. Now, as she shook through her growing sobs, Asher stood up, letting those emotions rise to her advantage. Letting Sipho’s death mean something more.
“For some reason, I think you thoroughly understand such feelings, Queen Shah. Something tells me that the nightmares that haunt my sleep also plague yours. Why is it that a queen of barely two decades married a man well into his seventieth year? Why is it that a queen with enough love in her heart for her kingdom that she is willing to give away her riches was so eager to alter the sigil that had represented it for centuries?”
Callahan shot up from his seat beside Genevieve, his chair flying backwards and crashing to the floor. Both hands smacked onto the table, cups of wine teetering back and forth, threatening to spill.
“How dare you speak on matters you know nothing about, you wretched girl!” he shouted.
As if I could not resist—as if my soul itself forced me—I stood too, towering over the man who I had watched undermine both females who held titles far surpassing his. Fire erupted from the wall sconces, flames shooting so high they nearly singed the vaulted ceilings. The wine in our cups rose, and the ground at our feet shook. I willed the wind to come to me, the sound of it barreling into the stone walls of the castle deafening.
“Funny, I do not recall the future queen of Betovere granting you permission to speak.” I let my black flames burst to life at the tip of my pointer finger, flashing Callahan a wide smile. “Have you ever smelled the scent of a burning tongue?”
He froze, violently shaking his head back and forth. Speechless, for once.
“Would you like to?” I asked with glee.
Callahan shouted, his terror contorting his face. Genevieve also looked horrified, her body shaking as she held onto her chair with a vice-like grip. If Shah felt fear, she did not portray it, her eyes still locked onto Asher’s. The two of them stared at one another, not even so much as flinching at what was happening around them.
I stopped, letting every ounce of my magic and power fade from the room. The silence that followed was somehow louder than the sound of the screaming. Genevieve was visibly distressed, her body still convulsing. Callahan had turned a green hue, as if he were on the verge of being sick.
“Well, that was a strange way of not interfering,” Henry said from my side, his laugh ripping through the quiet.
I rolled my eyes, my smile fading into a small smirk. “It seems I have reduced myself to a territorial lackey, though I cannot say I mind when the reward is so delicious .” My eyes remained on Genevieve’s as I spoke, not wanting to miss the moment her mind registered what I was saying.
The princess bristled, her cheeks gaining back their pink hue in record timing. “You are all psychotic!”
I laughed then, not able to stop the amusement that had slowly built up inside of me. Henry looked at me, and then he, too, burst into a fit of laughter. As I fell back in my seat, I leaned my elbow onto Henry’s broad shoulder, laughing harder when I saw a tear slip down his cheek.
Genevieve and Callahan seemed to grow angrier, both of them sitting straight once more now that the latter had retrieved his chair. But it was not them who spoke next. No, it was Shah.
“Well then, Queen Asher, it looks like we have a deal.”