Page 109 of She Who Holds My Wrath

I glance at Lyvia and notice she’s frozen in place. She frowns, just barely, her brows drawing together as if she can feel whatever he’s feeling as well. I brace myself for some form of altercation, not knowing how to appropriately react to Korithax anymore.

But just as abruptly, Korithax looks away. He turns and strides past me without a word, pushing open the balcony doors and stepping out into the open air, the doors clicking shut behind him.

I swallow hard and glance back at Lyvia. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “He’s… not himself.”

Lyvia blinks, the tension smoothing from her face as she regains control. “Oh. Of course.” She straightens, offering me a composed smile though her words come out flushed and stuttered. “No worries at all. I’ll take my leave.” She slips away from the hall, footsteps light but hurried.

I stand there for a moment longer, rooted to the floor, heart pounding so hard I’m sure it’s visible beneath my ribs. Half of my instincts are telling me to leave him be. The other half are screaming at me to go to him. The second one wins.

I force myself to move. The balcony doors groan softly as I push them open. Cool night air rushes over my skin, carrying the distant scent of smoke, wildflowers, and the ever-present trace of brimstone that means home.

Korithax stands at the far edge of the balcony, broad shoulders rigid, both hands wrapped around the stone railing. His knuckles are bone-white against the dark rock, veins standing out along the back of his hands as though he’s holding himself together by force alone.

Beyond him, Hell stretches in all its dark majesty beneath the bright blue sky, the red lightning flashes skittering through puffy clouds. Far beneath the balcony, the capital thrums with life—market lanterns glowing in the streets, cavalry patrols moving along the lower roads, and soft instrumental music drifting faintly from the distant village of Cinderspine that has slowly been rebuilt since its attack, the villagers working hard to return to normalcy after so much loss and destruction. White-blossomed trees stir in the wind among gardens of dark and black roses, their petals catching the light like spilled velvet. Beyond the city walls, molten rivers coil around the outer kingdom in blazing rings. It is beautiful, powerful, and so vibrantly alive.

“Hi,” I say softly from behind him.

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Hi.” Then he turns back to the view as if even that brief look cost him something unaffordable.

I move to stand beside him, close enough to feel the strange power rolling from his skin in invisible waves. It prickles across my arms, cold and hot all at once, making the tiny hairs rise there. I ache to touch him, but I don’t dare.

“The kingdom is talking,” I say after a moment. “News is spreading. They know you’re back.”

The wind moves between us and somewhere below, a bell tolls once in the city. He says nothing for so long, my chest tightens. I look out over the kingdom, over rooftops and towers and the small village, just taking everything in that I have fought to keep standing. The place I fought to save without him.

“I am no king,” he says at last, his voice low and roughened. “Hell only has one ruler.”

I turn to him so fast my hair whips around my face. Confusion strikes first, then immediate hurt. “What? Korithax, you are their king. You have always been. Even when…” My throat tightens, emotion instantly clogging my voice. “Even when you died.”

He turns his head just enough for me to see the hard lines of his profile. The clench in his jaw. The darkness in his eyes that no light reaches. His hands tighten further on the railing. Stone cracks beneath his grip with small, sharp sounds that make me flinch as dust falls from the fractures.

“No,” he says quietly. “Hell does not need me anymore. It hasn’t since the day I fell. You are the queen, Daisy. And a queen doesn’t need a king by her side to rule.”

My heart stutters painfully at his words. “So what are you saying?” I whisper. “That you no longer want to be my king? My husband?”

The last word cracks, betrayal and fear bleeding through despite my efforts to contain them. He closes his eyes for half a second, like hearing it wounds him.

“I do not want to be king,” he says, but it’s not with an unkindness to his tone.

“And what about the other one?” I ask through a shaking voice with tears burning my eyes so fiercely, my vision blurs. “My husband?”

He looks at me then, really looks. There’s so much sadness in his eyes it almost steals the breath from my lungs. Regret sits there like an old wound. Exhaustion. Something darker that I can see he’s trying to bury beneath it all. He continues to stare but refuses to answer.

“Korithax?”

My hand lifts of its own accord, reaching for his. He pulls away before I even get the chance, sending a fresh wave of pain through my heart.

“I’m going to train,” he says, already stepping back towards the doors. “I need distance.”

“I can’t do this without you,” I choke out, the tears spilling freely now. “I can’t.”

He pauses in the doorway, turning just enough to meet my gaze one last time. A small, pained smile touches his lips. “You have been,” he says softly. “And you can. And you will.”

He inclines his head, reverent and broken all at once. “I am so fucking proud of you, Daisy. You are exactly what Zeriavoss needed. Exactly what Hell needed.”

Before I can say another word, before I can beg him to stay and tell him I never wanted any of it without him—he’s gone. The doors close behind him with a quiet finality that somehow hurts worse than a slam.

I press a trembling hand to my chest as tears fall unchecked, my heart aching beneath the weight of everything left unsaid.