Epilogue One #2
He holds out his black, bloodied hand. I sheathe my daggers and take slow, tentative steps towards him. My eyes drop to his palm awaiting my own. That simple gesture will acknowledge him as my husband publicly, something I had hoped to avoid at all costs.
Yet, I place my hand in his.
Everyone kneels then, acknowledging him as their King. He hasn’t even spoken, and they bend the knee. I force my face to remain passive and not scowl at the complete injustice of this whole ordeal.
“Esteemed members of the Morningstar Court,” he pauses, gaze dipping to the few standing members of the Umbra Court. “And whatever is left of the Umbra Court. Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Queen Isadora Morningstar.”
They rise tentatively, before Belial stops them. “Did I say you can rise?”
Another demon I recognize as part of the Umbra Court, one with shocking red hair, scowls and says, “we do not kneel to women.”
I glance at Belial peripherally, catching that wicked smirk curling his lips again.
Uh oh…
Two more sickening cracks permeate the air before the insulting Demon wails and falls to the floor on both knees.
“Now you do,” Belial taunts. Everyone bends a knee as fast as their bodies will allow, save for a handful of Demons, both of the Umbra Court and not.
A low menacing growl reverberates within his chest. “You will bend the knee before your Queen, or I will break them.”
Begrudgingly, the rest submit. Once everyone in the room bows, I turn to Belial, only to find him already staring at me.
“Are you alright?”
“I-” My tongue feels incapable of forming words, especially as I stare in those gilded, burning eyes and find genuine concern. “I’d like to retire for the evening, if that’s alright?”
Hurt briefly flashes across his face. “Of course. And you need never ask permission from me for anything.”
I almost wince. I had promised myself that as Queen, I would stop asking for permission, yet that sorry, sad habit seems impossible to break after having to do it for my entire life.
Besides, Belial is still a Prince of Hell, a product of this realm.
Though he may tolerate me because it is clear he finds me attractive, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t act according to his nature.
My only response is a silent nod.
“I would escort you, but as you can see, there are matters here that need attention.”
“Aurelia and Mira can escort me back to my room.” I gather my skirts and motion for the two Demonesses to help with this blasted train.
“Our room,” he corrects.
My blood chills. “I beg your pardon?”
He cocks his head. “You are my wife. Surely you don’t believe I would expect my wife to sleep in a separate bed than me.”
Actually, that is exactly what I expected.
“What game are you playing?” I quietly hiss.
Head still titled, he places his hands in his pockets. So nonchalant. So unbothered.
So fucking infuriating.
“No games, Isadora. I kept my word to you. I vowed not to interfere as long as you wouldn’t be harmed.
I think you and I can both agree I had cause to interfere.
” He steps closer, the space between us nearly nonexistent.
His scent assaults my nostrils, smoke and leather, unsurprisingly dark and spicy.
I wish I could say I hated it.
“And now you will keep yours.”
I clench my jaw, remembering the words I hastily spoke when I was too eager to be rid of him, thinking something like this would not come to pass.
I don’t answer, just raise my chin defiantly before turning from him.
Mira and Aurelia are at my heels as I descend the dais.
My anger wants me to stomp and leave in a whirlwind of wrath and chaos, but I won’t give Belial the satisfaction.
Nor will I prove this entire Court right, that a woman is too emotional, too unstable to rule a kingdom.
Instead, I exit the same way I entered: with poise and power.
Only once I step foot back into the limestone corridors, the bloodshed of the throne room locked away behind me, do I start muttering obscenities under my breath.
Try as I might to withhold it, Belial’s name slips from my lips, earning me curious glances from my ladies’ maids as they flank me on either side.
Belial’s room, the King’s room, is on the same floor as mine, on opposite sides of the long corridor. I wrinkle my nose in displeasure as we approach the door.
“M’lady, if I may voice an observation?” Aurelia says just before we enter.
“Go on.” I face her with an arched brow.
“Days ago, I spoke that I had never seen a man look at a woman the way Raphael did with his mistress. I must remedy that statement.”
Now Mira looks to Aurelia as well, her dark brows furrowed. I raise my own brows, inviting her to continue.
Aurelia leans into me, her voice dropping. “I have never seen a man look at a woman the way our King looks at you.”
That earlier fire again surges low in my abdomen, pooling between my thighs. As much as I attempt to will it away, it lingers, recalling Belial’s ravenous gaze on my body throughout our many encounters.
He will come to this bed tonight, where I will be waiting, and I’ve come to the unsettling realization that denying him will be much harder than I thought.