“A king never kneels,” someone whispers from the crowd.
I glance down at him in confusion, but he only stares up at me with fire in his eyes.
“A king never traditionally kneels to his queen,” he says, voice echoing through the room, loud and clear. “But I will spend the rest of my life bowing to you. Worshipping you like the queen you are.”
The silence in the room breaks into a thunderous roar. “ASH BORN,” they cry, “ASH BORN!”
He rises, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as the room quietens once again for their king to be crowned. Elyistria crowns him with a circlet of black thorns, his hellfire flickering across the vines as it settles across his brow.
I don’t need to think twice as I drop to my knees before him, bowing my head for my king. My husband. My mate. My love.
The crowd erupts again, wild and deafening. Screams, cheers, stomping feet, shaking the floor beneath us. Korithax holds out a hand, helping me rise, and together we turn to face them. My heart pounds, a steady drumbeat against my ribs. These are our people. This is our kingdom. This is our home.
Elyistria steps forward once more,voice ringing like a bell through the air. “All kneel for the Queen and King of Hell.”
And they do. Every single person drops to one knee as we sit upon our thrones, side by side, our fingers intertwined. The moment we settle, fire erupts from the spires of our thrones; his roaring in hellfire, mine in divine white flame.
“We did it,” I whisper as our guests rise to their feet, cheering for their new rulers.
“We did it, little flower,” Korithax murmurs, brushing his thumb along my knuckles.
I glance at him, and he’s already watching me. That rare, soft smile playing on his lips. Everything we had faced, everything I had faced… it all felt worth it to be sitting here beside him as his queen. The worries of how well I’ll do as a ruler, how well I’ll do as the reborn queen, still sit heavily on my shoulders. But for now, I was going to bask in this moment and enjoy this with Korithax.
I lean towards him, placing a soft kiss on his lips, savouring his taste and his touch. I moan softly at the connection, the butterflies in my stomach chaotically dancing as I claim him in front of our kingdom. But just as he pulls me in to deepen the kiss, a violent quake splits the air. We jerk apart quickly, both of our eyes wide.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, scanning the hall as the noise dies.
The doors to the throne room explode open on a blast of wind, every torch sputtering.
“No.” I whisper, a wave of ice-cold dread slamming into me as figures step forward through a misty haze.
At the front, clad in silver armour that gleams like moonlight, is Seraphiel.
“What?” She sneers, voice dripping with venom. “No invite for us?”
Chapter 57
Korithax
The room is still ringing with the echoes of the applause that has only just begun to die down.
I keep Daisy’s hand in mine, her touch steadying the storm behind my ribs. We’ve done it. Crowned in the sight of the realms, bound in blood, in magic, and in soul. She’s utterly radiant beside me; my queen, my mate. She pulls me into a soft kiss, her plush lips melting away the remaining sounds of the room as I pull her in closer, deepening the embrace with desperate need for her. Gods, I’ll never tire of tasting her mouth on mine.
A sickening quake splits through the floor just before the large doors burst wide. A cold silence swallows the room before the crowd erupts into screams. I stand instantly, pulling Daisy behind me on instinct, my wings bursting free and flexing wide as the stench of divine energy slams into me like a wall. Six figures emerge from the white fog curling through the open doorway.
Seraphiel steps in first. Her silver armour blinding, and her white eyes gleam like polished bone. “What?” She drawls, like bile on her tongue. “No invite for us?”
Behind her, the rest of the Divine Six form in their usual fucking crescent—Calrix with his burning sword drawn already, Mal’Thariel, unmoving, glass-flesh gleaming under the firelight, Amarithe’s beauty is venom, her golden aura humming like a curse, Elaron smiling faintly, his lips barely curled in that infuriating way of his, like he knows something we don’t. And Velentha—hood up, silent—her face entirely unreadable.
Daisy doesn’t move. She stands frozen, small behind me with her fingers locked firmly in mine as she begins to tremble. I squeeze her hand in reassurance, but don’t remove my eyes from the assholes in front of me.
“Your timing is fucking shit, Seraphiel,” I growl.
“Watch your mouth, Child of Ruin,” Calrix snarls.
Seraphiel’s gaze flicks to something behind me. “Oh. You brought some little toys,” she smirks.
I glance behind me quickly, noticing Ezra and Talia have moved behind us, just a step back. Ezra shields Talia instinctively, but they both shake in terror. Talia’s usual tanned complexion looks almost pale as the horror sweeps through her.
