Chapter 26
Isabelle
The grand ballroom stretches before us, a cavernous expanse of polished marble and flickering candlelight. The towering arched windows with their intricate latticework cast delicate shadows upon the gleaming floor. The soft light of the moon filters through, bathing the chamber in an ethereal glow.
It’s both romantic and unsettling knowing what I must do tonight.
The demons spared no expense. Dark, gilded walls with swirling gold filigree hint of opulence and celebrations before. Chandeliers of elaborate crystal and wrought iron hang from the vaulted ceiling, their candlelit flames dancing in tune to the music.
Torches line the chamber illuminating the tables of food and wine.
Glasses fill one table, stacked upon one another precariously—all full, swirling with glitter lust liquid.
The most pivotal weapon in our arsenal tonight.
Just one slip-up, one pair of loose lips, is all we need to uncover the demon betraying us.
Demons begin to filter in. Some wear dark, glittering ball gowns, arriving on the arms of demons in full black or dark gray suits, perfectly tailored to their bodies.
Then there are demons wearing clothing that does little to hide their assets, revealing the dips and curves of their bodies.
Everyone looks as if they stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine, beautiful but deadly.
Tonight’s plan is simple. Oziel and I will make our grand entrance soon and start the celebration with a sacrifice—still an odd choice to start a party, but if it rids the realm of another piss-poor excuse of flesh, then I’ll sleep soundly tonight.
After that, Oziel and I will go our separate ways, and he’ll use his magic to hide my features, so no one knows they are speaking to the queen.
He’ll make an excuse as to why the queen is missing if anyone should ask.
This will work.
It has to work.
A warm hand presses to the small of my back.
Oziel watches his people trickle in from the hidden balcony we stand upon.
He’s the picture of calm, at least on the surface.
There are cracks in his armor, though. His clenched fist. The tension he’s holding in his shoulders.
The way his eyes dart around the room. All of it indicates his nervousness for tonight.
In many ways, it feels like we have one shot to figure out who is sabotaging the River Hel.
There won’t be another opportunity like this.
I reach out and gently place my hand on Oziel’s cheek.
His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, tense with unspoken thoughts.
For a moment, his gaze locks on the crowd gathering below, but then he turns to me.
His golden eyes search mine, and though I can’t be sure, I think he relaxes under my touch—just slightly, like a breath held too long finally released.
“We won’t fail,” I say, my voice steady with a conviction I have no right to claim. There’s no logic behind it, no proof to lean on, only a feeling, deep and insistent, that something will be revealed tonight.
“We won’t fail.” He repeats the words like a prayer.
Oziel closes the distance between us and pulls my body flush against his.
We move at the same time, our lips crashing together in a hungry kiss of lust and something else I can’t consider.
My brain tries to remind me that I’m walking a dangerous path.
That once this is over, I’m leaving. But my heart seems to have other plans.
Would it be so bad to find love? Even with the demon king himself? I’ve seen how corrupt love can be with my sister, and his parents’ own love got them killed. It can be deadly, leaving wounds that will never heal. There’s a certain vulnerability in love that I’m not sure I’m ready for.
A loud chime pulls Oziel away from me. The moment his lips are gone, I can think clearly. What the fuck am I doing? Being a horny, stupid bitch, that’s what I’m doing. I mentally shake myself before turning to see what the sound was.
The whole room has gone quiet, save for a few low murmurs as the entrance doors are cleared, forcing all the demons mingling close by to move back. “It’s time,” Oziel says just as the chime starts again. Two guards march side by side, wearing silver and black armor, deadly swords on their hips.
Shouts and screams soon rise above the conversation as another two guards walk out.
This time, they both drag in a bound man.
At least I think it’s a man. Dirt and grime cover his entire body, like he hasn’t seen a shower in years.
His hair is shaved close to his scalp, bloody patches covering a few places.
His clothes—if one can even call them that—are in tatters, held together by strings.
There’s also something on his back, shimmering and translucent. Some kind of magic?
As if reading my thoughts, Oziel says, “He’s a pixie. The fading shimmers on his back are the remnants of his wings. They’ve been clipped.”
Just then, the guards shove the pixie down onto his knees as they reach the center of the grand chamber.
Heavy chains rattle as the guards secure them to the iron locks embedded in the floor, binding him in place.
His shoulders slump, and for a moment, his delicate, wingless back rises and falls with a shuddering breath. Then he screams.
It’s not of pain. There’s so much malice behind his words, hurling insults like daggers. His words bleed together, making him hard to understand. The demons around him begin to laugh, clearly amused by the pixie’s display. He’s the entertainment for tonight.
White-hot anger sears my body as I remember the heinous acts this pathetic pixie committed. All my earlier hesitations are gone, and my heart aches for the family he never deserved. The lowest of bastards harms children, and I will take great pleasure in watching the life drain from him.
“Come, it’s nearly our time.” Oziel’s voice is low but firm as he takes my hand, his grip both steady and unyielding. Without hesitation, he leads me toward the grand staircase, its marble steps worn smooth by centuries of passage.
Above the chaos, Garvan’s voice rings out, cutting through the vexed screams of the dying man. He speaks our names with a practiced authority, commanding the attention of the gathered crowd.
Oziel’s fingers tighten around mine for a brief moment, whether in reassurance or warning, I can’t tell.
Then, with synchronized steps, we descend, our movements deliberate, shadows flickering along the walls as all eyes turn toward us.
Normally, I hate attention on me, eyes boring into me, silently judging me.
But right now, I focus on the pixie, forgetting everything and everyone exists.
When we reach the bottom of the stairs, Garvan meets us.
In his hand is an old box, opened to show a gold necklace.
It’s old and rusted, with a mysterious crimson stain on the pendant.
“This necklace belongs to the pixie. It will help strengthen your power over him.” Garvan hands me the box, and I hold it as if it were a lost artifact.
Then nervousness hits. “Power?” I whisper only loud enough for Garvan and Oziel to hear. “I have no power of my own.”
“That is debatable,” Oziel says. “But you will use my shadows. They are as much yours as they are mine now.”
“Use your shadows, but how?”
Instead of answering, Oziel rests his hand on the small of my back and guides me away from Garvan, steering me toward the center of the room, toward the pixie. Bound and furious, the creature spits insults in our direction, his voice sharp with defiance.
As we pass, the guards lower their heads in deference. I hesitate, unsure if I’m expected to acknowledge them, but Oziel doesn’t spare them a glance. Taking his lead, I keep my focus ahead, my steps steady despite the weight of watching eyes.
We move until we are standing directly in front of the pixie. The air is ripe with his stench, and I switch to breathing through my mouth to spare my senses.
Oziel stands behind me, his hands lingering on my hips. When he speaks, his hot breath tickles my neck. “Call upon the shadows,” he murmurs.
“How? I don’t know—”
“Yes, you do,” he interrupts. “Close your eyes.” He waits until I obey. “Think of wrapping this man in darkness. Shrouding him in nightmares. Think of the terror and pain his family felt. Make him feel the same level of fear and pain they did. Hold the necklace tightly, Kitten. You can do this.”
I do as Oziel says. With my eyes closed, I think of the dark shadows that always linger wherever Oziel goes.
I imagine those same shadows wrapping tightly around the pixie, suffocating him with his worst nightmares.
Forcing him to relive the pain he caused his family, only worse.
I think of the children he stole from this world, and the woman who had to watch her babies die.
I do it for them, allowing my anger to fuel the shadows.
It doesn’t matter that I never met them; their pain is now my pain.
Muffled screams draw me out of my trance.
My eyes pop open, taking a moment to adjust before I see it.
A blanket of shadows obscures the creature.
Blood-curdling screams and his begging are the only indicators the pixie is still among us.
When I squeeze the necklace harder, the cries only grow louder.
Then something is dangled in front of me. A dagger.
“Sacrifice him, Kitten. One dagger through the heart will rid Mescos of this vermin. It’ll be a safer place because of you,” he says.
I tentatively reach for the dagger. It’s heavy in my hands, blade reflective in the light. The burden of killing him falls upon my shoulders, but instead of shying away from the task, I embrace it.
Just like I did with James. Making the world better by taking him out of it. Perhaps this is my purpose here. To have no one suffer like my sister did. To put an end to those who cause the greatest pain.
I tighten my grip around the dagger’s hilt, wrapping both hands around the worn leather. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything else.
Slowly, I lift the blade above my head, the dim light catching on its sharp edge.
Then, with all the force in my body, I strike.
Swift. Unrelenting. The blade plunges into the darkness, slicing through flesh and sinew.
The dagger buries itself to the hilt, refusing to go any deeper.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, and my hands tremble as I hold my ground, feeling the tremors of life ebbing beneath my grip.
A wet, gurgling sound cuts through the silence as the shadows begin to retreat, peeling back to reveal the pixie. His wide eyes gleam with a mix of terror and disbelief, frozen in the moment between life and death.
Blood stains his lips, pooling in the corners of his mouth as he struggles to make a sound. A scream that never comes. The dagger has struck true, buried deep into his chest. Crimson spills in thick, pulsing waves, soaking into his tattered clothing and pooling beneath him.
He wheezes, a rattling, desperate breath that falters as his body weakens. I watch, transfixed, as the light in his eyes flickers… then fades, leaving them empty, hollow, and forever still. He’s gone. Because of me.
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Oziel pulls me to his chest, wrapping me in his embrace. “Good girl,” he murmurs into my hair, sending heat straight to my core. I have to press my thighs together. Blood is literally and figuratively on my hands, and yet I grow hot with need for Oziel.
Maybe this is who I was always meant to be.
“The Queen has made our sacrifice to the Dark Gods!” Garvan’s voice calls out. He’s greeted by whistles and cheers, thundering around the ballroom. “Let the night’s celebration begin. Pour the wine!”
At his proclamation, the true party begins, despite the dead pixie on the ground. His death has served its purpose.
The guards unchain the pixie from the floor. Two of them pick up his lifeless body and drag him out of the ballroom, leaving a trail behind him. Somewhere, music starts to play again, low and seductive. It clashes with the gruesome scene from earlier. The evidence is still staining the floor.
“The party has begun, Kitten. Shall we mingle?” Oziel asks.
As much as I want to stay here with his arms around me and lips on my body, I know we have a job to complete. There’s a lot weighing on this, which I have to remind myself as I pry myself out of my husband’s arms.
“How will I know if my appearance is hidden?” I ask, not wanting to start prematurely and sabotage the plan. I have to do this in a way that doesn’t cause suspicion.
“Get a drink, though only pretend you’re enjoying the lust wine.
Keep your head. In ten minutes, start making your rounds.
No one will recognize you. They will simply see a pretty she-demon.
They will all be far too drunk to think of you or me, but if anyone asks about the queen, I shall come up with a lie.
I can give you an hour.” Oziel says the last part almost apologetically.
“I thought I could give you more time, but—”
“An hour it is then.” I nod, strengthening my resolve. I allow myself one last glance at the demon king, handsome as sin and deadly beautiful, before I part from him. There’s work to be done, and I can’t get distracted by Oziel. It’s time to figure out who’s poisoning the River Hel.
“Oh, Kitten?”
Oziel’s voice halts me before I can get too far.
A shiver runs up my arm as shadows coil around it, slithering like living tendrils before pressing something cold and solid into my palm.
Instinctively, my fingers close around it—a hilt, rough and familiar, just like the one I used moments ago.
As the shadows disperse, a dagger remains in my grasp, its weight both reassuring and foreboding.
How many daggers does this demon have? I don’t think I want to know.
“You should have protection, just in case. Use it wisely,” Oziel murmurs, his voice a ghost of a promise before he vanishes into the crowd.
I’m on my own now.
Carefully, I slide the dagger into the bodice of my gown, tucking it against my skin, wary of the blade’s sharp edge. Taking a steadying breath, I step forward and disappear into the churning sea of demons, swallowed by the chaos of the night.