“COMPEL HER TO CONTROL THE CAT!”
Rosier shakes his head. “The cat has no master, not even me.”
Baphomet hums. “Truly, you have surprised me, Rosier, Prince of the Hells. You may have ushered us into a new age.”
Rosier covers my mouth with his tail before I can ask questions. His caution is fair, but I don’t appreciate the gesture.
“Flattery will only take you so far, Baphomet,” he says smoothly. “Why should I share my plunder with the rest of the Hells?”
Baphomet clicks their tongue several times. “We will certainly reward such an accomplishment. Perhaps… you are more a King than your father was.”
Rosier’s jaw is tight, and he bares his teeth. “Your empty offerings mean nothing! Come back when your bite has some teeth. Make me a King of the Hells, then you can have an audience withmywitch.”
Baphomet’s eyes open once more, slowly this time, blinking at different intervals. “If that is the case, I will take my leave.” They walk backwards along with their skirt of mortals, moving closer and closer to the edge of the throne room. “I will return,Prince.” He hisses the title. “And Minerva… Ah, such a powerful name for a powerful witch.” They’re at the edge of the throne room now, some of the humans falling off the edge. “I plan to see you again soon.”
With that they fall as well, but down to where, I do not know.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
ROSIER
All I need isBaphomet to think Minnie is obsessed with me, not I possessed by her.
She plays her part well, acting almost as brainless as Baphomet’s own court of souls. A question haunts me–if any of them were ever like her brash, arrogant, and intoxicating instead of existing solely for the purpose of their master. I fail to picture Minnie ever being fulfilled by me alone or that I could replace her books and her magic. I don’t want to supplant these things.
Even as Baphomet takes their leave, I fail to relax. My misgivings are vindicated when they say my title–mocking it, reminding me I’m beneath them despite having what they want. They plummet into the Hells, and there is a welcome silence.
Only for a moment, though, before Kas starts squealing. “We’re moving on up!”
He and Chanel hold hands and start jumping together, giggling and laughing. Tim has a ghost of a smirk on his lips. When Kas is finished celebrating with Chanel, he grabs Tim’s face and gives him a kiss. The gesture is unremarkable, except when Tim leans in to press his forehead against Kas’. Lithobates holds Leaf, who kicks and bites at his hands, but my page still looks pleased.
I slam my fist on the arm of the throne. “Nothing has changed!” Everyone is taken aback. “You’re all so desperate that you celebrate a hypothetical. Until I am made a King before the whole of the Archdevils, we are all in the same spot.”
“But,” Minnie chimes in, holding up one finger, “I didn’t get kidnapped by a goat-devil.” Her soft smile makes me feel foolish for my outburst.
“Yes,” I huff. “That is a victory to be sure.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Now we only have to deal with whoever else decides tograceus with their presence.”
“Graceus? They’re coming to see me.” She plays with her curls and rolls her eyes before falling into a fit of giggles.
Warmth stirs in my chest, blooming like a flower. I consider bringing her back to the bedroom, to find new ways of making her scream with pleasure. But I know there’s something else I can show her to make her scream. I hold her in my arms and spread my wings before flying off. Minnie wraps her arms around my neck, and Kas and Lithobates calling after us, unable to keep up on foot.
I bring her to the bottom floor of the castle, the most secure, with few entrances or exits. It’s where our coffers are stored, where our prisoners are kept, and, most importantly, where one of the few libraries of Hell resides. There are only a few other learned places, and all of them are impossible to gain entry unless one receives permission from the devil who owns it.
Minnie doesn’t have to ask permission. I want to see her spend her hours here among her favorite things.
The library entrance is simple, inconspicuous. Minnie looks at me with a raised brow.
“Close your eyes.”
She pouts but does as I ask with a sigh. I open the door, the smell of paper and ink unmistakable. My Father had several witches under his tutelage, and as such, the library is enchanted to be much larger than should be possible for the space. Books line every surface save for the floor. Even the ceiling holds volumes upon volumes, and it tickles me to imagine Minnie asking for help reaching those very books.
“You can open your eyes now,” I tell her.
She does, her eyes going from half lidded to wide and enamored in a matter of seconds. Her head keeps tilting further back as she looks for the end of the tall bookshelves. She says nothing, but she lets out a breath that tells me more than any of the tomes here ever could.
“I’m afraid you won’t find many romances or epic tales here. Most of these are histories of the planes, a few magic books penned by dead witches, I’m sure you’ll find–”
“Put me down right now.”
