121. Violette
VIOLETTE
Ifeel like I need to have a nervous breakdown, but there’s no time for that because after the drakonati warriors and the people of Vassileo descended into Sinsól, there is much to answer for...
as Queen. A fiery tunnel in the ceiling of the warded dome that keeps the sea out, and the air in—the one my father erected specifically for my mother in the hopes of making her happy—looms above the faces of Vassileo’s former King and Queen.
They ruled all of daemonkind beneath Azrael prior to Vassileo’s destruction, and will now be ruling in my stead as the Regents of Sinsól.
Thanks to whatever bargain Lazarus struck with Somnus, who acted as his messenger, Lazarus and Azrael were able to conspire with their people: help us overthrow Sinsól’s Nameless King, and in exchange, you will be given safe haven free from the dangers of Atratus—the region where virtually all of Azrael and Lazarus’ people were forced to seek exile when their realm was torn apart.
There have already been a number of casualties among my father’s people.
Lazarus assures me they won’t be missed and were among the parasites whom my father controlled.
The rest are currently in palladium shackles and being led towards the palace dungeons by towering daemon and drakonati soldiers.
Their concubines, however, are lined up as one of my father’s guards is forced to remove each of their palladium collars.
The eight-foot, bespectacled daemon king from Vassileo stands patiently beside his queen, a silver-haired, human-looking sanguinati.
The fact that the God of Death now has two bodies seemed to be an inconsequential and unsurprising revelation to them—though we hadn’t explained how or why.
Perhaps they assume one is merely an avatar of the other.
My eyes scour the vicinity in vain for Lucen and his soulbound. Somnus, who should have been liberated from his incorporeal realm the moment of my father’s death, is nowhere to be found either.
Where have they gone?
The daemon king, Charon, peers down at me with a look of mild concern on his face. “You require rest, majesty..."
My throat dips. Majesty? And is it that obvious that I’m in way over my head?
“A pause in... cataclysmic events would be favorable.”
Without missing a beat, Lazarus and Levi’s hands settle on the small of my back, and I can’t help but notice their fingers briefly touch before re-settling apart. It makes yet another knot form in my chest.
Azrael, on the other hand, is on the receiving end of a rather brutal verbal lashing courtesy of Queen Monette, at his exceedingly poor handling of Vassileo’s deterioration.
Her scowl softens only briefly at his reply. “You’re not wrong.”
She shakes her head. “And Somnus mentioned absolutely nothing of having to live beside the drakonati. You know their culture differs greatly from ours, what with their females skulking around with their newly mated males on leashes.”
Even in my state of shock, the words draw my gaze. I blame it on my desperate need for distraction.
Queen Monette gives me a beseeching look as she continues. “How am I to explain such customs to my grandchildren when they wish to explore beyond the palace?”
Azrael clears his throat to return her gaze to his. “Perhaps that it is an ancient part of their courtship—where the more physically powerful and dominant male publicly displays his submission and devotion to his beloved.”
Queen Monette arches a brow as though suddenly intrigued. Her eyes dance between Azrael and Lazarus. “Oh?”
“Indeed.”
Her eyes slide to King Charon, lips pursed. “Perhaps there is something there to be learned. Explored even. Wouldn’t you say, husband?”
King Charon suddenly coughs as if having choked on his own spit as his charcoal-gray cheeks darken further and his infernum–the glowing meridians of magic that line his body–brighten.
Queen Monette fails to mask the grin she attempts to tame by biting the inside of her cheek. Said grin diminishes as a ground-trembling roar from the top of the night sky-lit tunnel leading into Sinsól rents the air.
Craning my head, I discover the female drakonati we saw on our way here. She descends the tunnel and shifts midair before slamming onto the ground and cracking the marble floors.
Queen Monette rolls her eyes. “You see? That was a perfectly good marble floor, hundreds of years old. Someone will have to replace that now, or use precious magic to repair it.”
I offer her a tight smile as my patience grows thin. “I’m certain we can all come up with a solution that will foster a peaceful co-existence.”
Queen Monette’s gaze meets mine as she heaves a sigh. “Akash willing... At least, I can’t imagine it being worse than the chaos and unrest in Atratus.”
My smile is nothing short of wooden.
One can hope.