Chapter 34
Zarathos
The following evening, Zarathos walked down the long, dimly lit hallway of his castle, each step echoing off the obsidian, the weight of his thoughts heavy on his mind.
He kept circling back to Aryana—the events that had led to her being trapped within these cold, unforgiving walls, and the haunting images of her suffering.
The very thought of her pain twisted inside him like a knot, the guilt gnawing at him.
The ache to free her grew with each passing moment.
He had to get her out of here, out of this dreadful place, before it was too late.
Since the trials began, he’d kept her safely secluded in his rooms, and with everything worsening, he’d remained adamant that she stay hidden, inaccessible to anyone.
But beyond the looming shadow of Aryana’s plight, his mind also wrestled with a practical concern. The council. Pithian was the only one whom Zarathos had been able to reach. The rest either pledged allegiance to their own kingdoms or remained too invested in their plots to get to.
Which was why he couldn’t fail, both for Aryana’s sake and for his own redemption.
He made sure he was alone, then reached into the shadows and pulled them around him, reappearing in an old broom closet in the castle’s depths. Pithian already waited there.
Zarathos stalked toward his servant, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. “You will never touch Aryana again, do you understand?”
“I did what she wanted in an attempt to save you both—”
“All you care about is your fucking bargain. Don’t act like it’s not.”
“Yes, because that bargain protects demons,” Pithian gasped, not even fighting, though he struggled to breathe.
“Nations of demons. And it’s more than that.
” He let out a wheeze as Zarathos’s grip tightened.
“It’s knowing who will be the best ruler of all of us.
And that is you. You are the only choice. ”
Zarathos didn’t care about platitudes of loyalty. Not if it put his vampress in danger. “If you so much as look at Aryana the wrong way—”
“I realize it will spell the end for me.”
“Good.” He released Pithian, who grasped his throat, coughing as he tried to sooth his pained windpipe.
“We have a problem,” his servant said in a raspy voice. “Sabious says that the potion won’t be ready for several weeks.”
Zarathos scowled. That was far too long. “Did you give them my generous offer?”
“I did.”
“And what did they say?”
“They said it wasn’t about money and that if you wanted it that badly, you could come yourself and strike a bargain.”
He suppressed a curse. “Let's go see them.”
Pithian looked startled. “Now?”
“Now.”
“I have a rather important engagement I must attend. The trial council has called an emergency gathering to discuss the vampire problem.”
Zarathos fingers balled, his nails digging into his skin. Shit. Pithian needed to be present at the meeting so Zarathos could discover the new plan.
“Go. I will speak to the potions dealer.”
Zarathos stalked into Sabious’s tent. He’d been here many times before and usually Zarathos went through the process of being approved and escorted in.
Today, though, he’d remained cloaked, and he’d slid through the shadows, avoiding the extra unnecessary steps.
Zarathos needed Neutrolisis, and he needed it soon.
The guards in the tent drew their swords and pointed them at Zarathos. Sabious sat at their table and met Zarathos’s gaze.
“Lower your weapons, men, and leave us,” Sabious said.
Zarathos stalked up to their table, then pulled back his hood as soon as the other demons left. “I need that potion. What’s the holdup?”
He’d been dealing with Sabious for years for his potion supply. They were amongst the small number familiar with Zarathos’s situation.
“I make a lot of potions, Zarathos. Can you remind me what potion that was?” the potion dealer asked. They stared at the demon king with an intense gaze.
How dare they address Zarathos so informally. Sabious felt brave today.
“Stop playing,” Zarathos snarled. “You know that I require the Neutrolisis Potion. I can pay whatever you ask.”
Sabious snorted. “Come now, Zarathos. You act as if the concoction grows on trees.”
It didn’t, but he also knew that if anyone had a chance of getting it for him in the next couple of days, it was Sabious.
They reclined, a smug smile on their face as if they’d won something. “I might be able to get it to you soon, if you make a deal with me.”
Zarathos straightened. Before this, his bargains with Sabious had been minimal. The potion dealer’s expression left him on edge.
Their fingers rapped out a sharp staccato on the wooden table. Tap, tap. Suddenly Zarathos was once again in that small cottage as a boy, threatening Casiel’s parents that if they didn’t turn themselves in he’d hand over their son instead. Zarathos’s first real black deed. He trembled at the sound.
Was this the world paying him back for the evil he committed?
“What are you willing to give me for the potion, Zarathos?” Tap, tap, tap.
Zarathos swallowed, his mouth dry. “Name your price.”
They nodded. “You owe me a favor. Sometime, at some place I will come to collect, and you can’t say no.”
“I don’t do open favors.”
Sabious raised an eyebrow. “I know something about you, Your Majesty. And this meeting has confirmed it.”
Zarathos’s hands balled. What was happening? Sabious had never acted this cagey around him before. “Confirmed what?”
The dealer leaned forward. “I know your name.”
Zarathos stilled, nausea twisting inside him.
“The name you were given at birth, of course, not this name you are going by currently. In fact, I’ve said it three times in this meeting and you haven’t reacted once.” Their grin grew malicious. “It’s because you can’t hear it. Can you, Zarathos?”
“You know nothing,” he snarled, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
Shit. They knew everything. But how? What did it mean?
“Oh, I don’t? Well, if that is true, tell me. What is your given name? Say it.”
“My. Name. Is. Zarathos.”
“Ah, there is the reaction I am looking for.” Sabious continued to tap on the table, growing faster and more triumphant.
Tap. Tap. Tap. “Even though you can’t hear your own name, others aren’t under the same spell.
I wonder what the demons of your court, from other kingdoms, those on the trial council, would think if they learned your real name.
It’s not common after all, used by one species of demon, normally. ”
They knew too much. Zarathos would have to kill them.
Damn it. But he couldn’t. “After all these years, why are you doing this now?”
“Information is best served at the right moment. It is a rare occasion when you can hold knowledge over the arch king’s head and live to tell the tale.
But you seem quite desperate to get the—what was it?
Neutrolisis? And a little incentive to provide me with what I want is worth the possible danger. ”
He frowned. “A favor?”
“Yes, and no killing me before it is fulfilled. We should slip that into the conditions.”
Zarathos’s heart sank. What might Sabious demand he do as part of fulfilling the bargain? If it was too wild or outlandish, he risked losing the power of all his deals for refusing.
And yet, none of that mattered in the end. What mattered was getting Aryana through the trials. If he obtained his desired potion and his plans succeeded, Sabious’s bargain would mean little.
This served as payback for betraying a friend, exploiting others’ affection, and now the same fate befell Zarathos. And yet he had no other choice. “Done,” he growled, despite how his heart quivered at the blasted tapping. “As long as you don’t mention to anyone my real name.”
A satisfied smile came to Sabious’s lips. “I agree to keep your name secret until you fulfill my request.”
Zarathos bit into his palm, drawing out blood. “Then let us seal the bargain.” Sabious cut open their hand and reached out, meeting Zarathos’s with their own. Sabious’s grin grew wide and vicious.
“Pleasure doing business, Your Majesty. I’ll have that potion to you within two nights.”
Zarathos had become arch king simply to survive.
It was never a position he truly desired.
And now, with Aryana’s life hanging in the balance, he could no longer justify clinging to it.
Regardless of who wore the crown, demons would still fight and kill.
He was just another stop on the long, winding road of rulers, and, according to some, not even a particularly good one.
It was time that he answered for his evil deeds. And if it meant that Aryana escaped while Zarathos paid the price, then so be it.
The next evening, Zarathos moved along the blackened corridors of the castle to his bedchamber, the sun’s setting rays peeking through the curtained windows.
Despite the trials, he remained arch king, and that necessitated meeting and ruling even while the chances of him keeping his position withered down to nothing.
Refusing sleep, Aryana had spent most of her time in his sanctuary tower, working feverishly on her tapestry.
He didn’t yet know what it represented, but he found himself increasingly curious.
When he asked, she’d merely shaken her head.
She was going through something, and he didn’t know how to help her.
But that didn’t stop him from checking on her, from wanting to be close to her.
He had a near desperate urge to take her into his arms and kiss her until her pain melted away.
No. The potion that was coming would help her with everything that was necessary for her survival.
It was all he could give her. His deal with Sabious proved to be less than ideal, but chances were that with the potion arriving soon, he’d succeed in getting the vampress out before the third trial occurred.
Perfect.
But damn it, how did Sabious discover what Zarathos’s father had done to him? How did he learn his name?
“Your Majesty.”
Zarathos spun in surprise. Pithian stood, concealed in the shadows, the curtains of a small alcove hiding him mostly from view. Zarathos turned away, looking at an old painting along the wall as if studying it. “What do you prefer to be called?” he asked. “Pithian or Marbas?”
“Oh, uh, well…Marbas is my given name.”
Zarathos nodded. “From now on I will call you Marbas, except for when I must call you Pithian to protect your identity.”
Marbas appeared confused by the conversation. “Whatever you like, sir.”
“What do you have for me?”
“I’m sorry for the impromptu meeting, but I felt you should be informed. They are moving up the third trial.”
Zarathos shut his eyes, dreading the answer to his question. “To when?”
“Tonight.”
“Because of Aryana?”
“Yes. They aren’t happy, and they finally have what they need. Especially after your display at the dinner, they want her dead.”
Dread roiled through him. “What is it?”
“They are bringing in a chimera. Apparently, a demon on the council has been keeping one, and they have been itching to use it. They have a piece of her dress from the banquet. They are giving it her scent.”
Shit. Shit. First Sabious and now this. Everything was going to hell.
Zarathos should have pushed harder to get the potion sooner.
Unless he came up with something, Aryana wouldn’t survive the next trial.