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Once it was safely tucked away, I stood there for a few seconds, running a finger over the crack in my crown. That first night, when I took it from Reyes, I hadn’t noticed it was broken. I never picked it up again, afraid it would break apart entirely. My father’s ashes were secured in the golden urn beside it.
Looking at the items and thinking of everything that had occurred up to this point, I knew I had to do something to stop this madness from going any further.
I had lost so much already. I’d been stupidly foolish and allowed myself to become little more than a broodmare.
I had no way of knowing if Reyes would inject me with that drug of his again just for the sake of fucking me endlessly. That gave me a small window of time, but there could be no more delaying; it was time to take action. I could not risk falling pregnant.
I knew that was what he wanted; he didn’t have to say it. He’d all but spelled it out when he spoke of how compatible my kind and his now were. But that couldn’t be his ultimate goal.
As I walked to the bathroom, I massaged my temples. Reyes claimed to have slaughtered all the supes in my region, but that wasn’t possible unless every high-level servitor perished the same night my father had.
There was a contingency plan crafted by my wise mother, and if they were truly loyal to the Vasiel reign, then those remaining would have put it into effect.
Standing in front of the mirror, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and then began the tedious task of removing the heavy gown all the while trying establish what Reyes’ mission was.
He was not doing this for simple self-gratification. I suppose it could just be for heirs, but this seemed too great a conquest for that.
While I doubted it was he who had launched the attack against Zenith, I was positive he knew it was coming.
This all came full circle with my original line of thinking. What was he after? Why kill off supes that would have been loyal to him as an extension of me?
Finally getting the bustier of the gown unbuttoned, I shoved it down and let the black fabric pool at my feet.
Studying my body subjectively, I took in average breasts resting in the finest lace. My navel was flat but my hips were rounded once more with thighs to match.
Between my legs was covered by a thin piece of fabric that matched my bra.
Weapons came in many forms, sometimes words, other times actions—maybe a blade, or in this case, a body. Trailing fingers across smooth alabaster skin, I knew this would be a key line of offense—and maybe even defense at times—against Reyes.
I knew what I needed to do now, no matter how much I detested it. Firstly, stop being a walking contradiction and shaming my family name. The Vasiel bloodline ended with me. There were no others, and I’d be damned if I let my parents or our people down any longer.
It was almost laughable, fucking absurd. Never did I think there would come a day I’d be locked in a power struggle with the King of Purgatory.
However, he was the catalyst of his demise.
By his actions, I was now betrothed to the most powerful man in all of the infernal regions.
In turn, I was not powerless; I’d wager I now had more power than ever before.
I was not voiceless; I just needed to find a way to make sure I was heard.
~10~
This part of my citadel had been closed down for repair six months ago. Few traveled the halls now after a few claimed they were haunted.
It was easier to let them think that than explain the fundamentals. A handful knew the truth, so if the word were ever to spread, I’d know exactly whose hearts to tear from their chests.
Something did live down here, but it wasn’t dead.
Turning down the narrowest hall, I opened the first door on my left and stepped inside, receiving an immediate shriek of outrage.
“Gods, Reyes, don’t you ever knock?”
Mirabelle rose from her egg-shaped tub, sloshing sudsy water on the floor as she reached for a towel.
“Would you knock on your own door?”
“It’s my room.”
“In my citadel,” I retorted, heading for the liquor cabinet. Feeling her glare on the back of my head, I grinned and turned around.
“What is it?” she asked, picking up on my irritation.
“It seems the woman in my bed is very different to the one who let me fuck her at the dinner table.”
“In other words, I was right?”
I ignored her and went back to making myself a drink.
“You’ve already paired.”
“I was pairing with her regardless. She’s always been it…even now.”
“Then what’s the problem?” she huffed, walking to her vanity. “Are you being good to her?”
