25. Chapter 25 #3
The silver-haired god gives Rhaziel a slick smile as he casually grips the handle of his sparkly walking stick. “Death does not suit me, Brother. It is far too quiet and boring. I prefer a lifetime of vexing you instead.”
Rhaziel’s fists clench.
“Our siblings have returned from their desolation to offer us aid,” the queen cuts in. “It is fitting that they attend this meeting, as we must celebrate their arrival. Don’t you agree?”
Rhaziel rises to meet her, his powerful voice putting the entire throne room in a chokehold. “There is no magic in this universe that can revive a deity from the dead. Not even unsanctioned dark magic. Explain yourself, Sister. How have they returned?”
“It was not dark magic that revived them, you daft walnut. The veil between our realm and the afterlife is slipping. They simply broke free of it. Much like the dragons.”
Rhaziel’s eyes become streaked with red. “The dead are returning to our world, and you did not think to warn me of this sooner?” he asks.
My gut twists as I wonder what else might be slipping from the veil at this very minute.
Monsters with an affinity for killing men?
The queen’s beatific expression twists to one of contempt.
“How could I have? You were too busy concocting a plan to hand my mortal directly over to the dragon king once you learned about the bounty on her head. Do not deny it, Brother.” She lifts a finger toward Rhaziel.
“You intended for the dragons to kill Lily in your stead so that I’d be sent to Purgatory on the curse’s whim, and you’d be left behind to rule in the aftermath. ”
Maxine and I exchange a nervous look.
“You thought you were so clever, finding a loophole in our pact,” the queen continues.
“But I must warn you, Brother, the next time you scheme to usurp my throne, I suggest that you speak in quieter tones, and not like some squalling troubadour.” She advances on Rhaziel like a viper to fresh blood, her lips pulling back in a delirious sneer.
“You plotted my demise. You and Thalmos both. I am no fool.”
Thalmos grits his teeth, clearly not thrilled over being name-dropped so carelessly.
Meanwhile, Lily’s gaze drifts toward the floor, the excitement of her gown’s revival quickly fading.
Not that I can blame her. I would be a mess upon learning that Rhaziel and Thalmos have been discussing handing me over to the dragons on a silver platter in exchange for the queen’s head.
In fact, she’s handling the news quite graciously, in retrospect.
“Now, if you’re done trying to have my mortal killed, we have other business to attend to,” the queen snaps.
“Our siblings have both pledged their fealty to our war efforts. As such, I have awarded Jasper the city of Riverhall, and Brielle the city of Grenora.” She points toward the silver-haired god, and the Goddess of Whispers, whom I gather are named Jasper and Brielle for short.
This time, it’s Thalmos who stands. He throws back his throne, which cracks against the glass-paneled flooring like a glacier fissuring. Then he says, “You dare alter the boundaries without our consent?”
Boundaries? What boundaries?
The queen sweeps across the dais in two strides to meet him.
Her expression is smug, like she’s just drawn an ace from a deck of cards.
“Don’t be dramatic, Thalmos. The boundaries were drawn up ages ago, long before Jasper and Brielle returned.
It’s only fair that we redefine them now that they’re back.
” She cuts a glance toward Thalmos’s fallen throne with a too-calm tilt of her head, looking as though she’d like to permanently dismantle it herself.
Thalmos straightens his stance. “I demand you give me back Riverhall and the magic that was promised at once. Or else I shall be forced to lay my fealty with the dragon lord instead.” The air congeals with something pungently sour, like tart mustard that has tarnished his cushiony position in court.
The queen throws back her head and releases a factitious howl of laughter. “If you would like to die in the same fiery demise that I have planned for the dragon lord, then by all means, Brother! Join their side!”
Thalmos adjusts his glasses with contempt and then fixes his throne.
“Wonderful. Now that we have that settled, do our pets have anything they’d like to add to this conversation?” The queen drums her fingers along her glass armrest before adding, “A confession of love, perhaps?”
Priestess Seraphina appears once more, balancing four diamond rings on a pincushion.
One of the rings is a shade of soft, blush pink, reminding me of the pale light of a winter morning.
The second is a rustic, metallic piece. The third is a swirl of crimson and bloodiron.
The last is pitch-black obsidian. One ring for each of us.
“Anything you’d like to get off your chests?
” the queen says. “Or are you satisfied with being pretty decorations destined for beheading?”
Lily draws in a sharp breath. “I have something to say.”
Bella’s fake smile falters. Maxine shudders a gasp.
Pinpricks crawl up the length of my spine as I fight back the urge to shout, “Don’t do it, Lily.
The rings are a trap.” But it’s too late.
A single tear slips down Lily’s cheek, paired by a host of grating syllables that ring out across the throne room, indicating that her emotions are no longer tethered to her body. “I will marry you, if you’ll have me.”
Oh gods, we didn’t warn her.
Back in the market, she’d been so busy looking at dresses with Regent…
And then the dragon showed up…
“Of course I will!” the queen screeches. In one fluid motion, she plucks the pink ring from the pincushion and holds it out for all to see. Beneath the iridescent light, it glimmers like it’s been dipped in melting sunrises and… malevolency.
“That ring represents the faction of Love,” the priestess proclaims, her voice pinched in severity.
“It represents the love that binds you to your goddess forevermore, and the end of a centuries’ long curse.
It represents the tethering of two hearts as one.
Do you agree to marrying Queen Armona, Lily Leibe? ”
“Lily…” I whisper, my voice trickling into the abyss of the throne room as a chorus of cheers ring out across the balcony.
It’s hard to comprehend that the spectators are celebrating this feat, blissfully unaware that this ring will stanch Lily’s bloodmagic forever—just like their rings have staunched theirs.
Lily is not in love. The queen must know the truth.
Which can only mean one thing.
This is all a ruse to entice Lily to wear the ring. The same ring that will steal Lily’s bloodmagic and channel it to the queen, thereby giving her enough power to break the curse and save herself from Purgatory.
And in the end?
Lily could still be beheaded for failing to fall in love.
The queen slides the ring onto Lily’s finger, her eyes widening in glee. The pair embrace in a true love’s kiss, but I fear that my vision is too busy tunneling for me to properly see. This won’t save you, Lily.
After the applause has tapered off and Lily has again taken her seat, the queen turns on me for some godsforsaken reason, her feral expression wicking the air out of my lungs.
“And what of you?” she snarls. “Have you yet fallen in love with your god?” Before I can even respond, she snatches the fourth ring from the pincushion—a ring as dark and treacherous as obsidian steel, with diamonds that whisper like devilish sins and black magma silk.
Its intoxicating luster draws me in, making me feel like I’m starving for oxygen.
“Breathe…” A deep, chilling voice douses me to the bone, yanking my heart back to reality.
I glimpse over my shoulder to find none other than the God of Dreams staring back at me, as if he’s just roused from a moonlit dream, one that made his eyes impossibly brighter somehow.
He’s here. Thank all the gods, he’s here.
And that’s when I remember he deserted me back in the Observatory.
“Where have you been?” I hiss at him.
“Around.” He gives me a stare of such scalding intensity that I swear he threaded the lightning in the sky with his bare hands and is now using his body as a conduit.
Perhaps he’ll light this place up in flames next.
But instead, he motions for me to turn back around and pay attention to his sister.
I do as he suggests, my cheeks burning hotter than the fiery pits of Hell.
“Well?” The queen fixates me with a look that seems to suggest she intends on mantling my head as a trophy once this damned curse is over with. That, or she’s contemplating all the ways she’s going to kill Augustine in his sleep. “Have you fallen in love with him, or not?” she snaps.
“I still have four more days,” I remind her weakly.
The black ring glints back at me, as though it’d like nothing more than to drape me in some unworldly, all-consuming veil.
I flutter my eyes shut and ignore its gravitational pull to the best of my ability, realizing it must be laced with some kind of poison.
“Plus, I’m tired,” I add, if only to cut this conversation short and get that possessed object away from me.
“Mortals require something called sleep. Have you ever heard of it?” As my words roll off my tongue, I shoot a glare over my shoulder at Augustine.
You would know all about sleep, you audacious, conniving, good-for-nothing…
Augustine responds with his eyes. If they could speak, I imagine they’d say something along the lines of, “Remember what I said about pissing off my sister?”