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“Don’t feel too badly about it,” I respond, jumping on her wavelength. “I’m athat.”
“Oh, good,” she says in mock relief. “I’d hate to be an object all on my own.”
Abaddon’s flash of annoyance pleases me, although it doesn’t last long. He chuckles, swaggering closer to us, his eyes fixed on Sophia. A surge of possessive protectiveness sweeps through me—I stifle it well, but I know if he so much as breathes on her I’ll toss him over the balcony.
“Don’t you worry, little one,” he says to her. “When Lucifer’s laziness catches up to him on the battlefield, I’ll make sure you’re nevereverleft alone.”
“Step back, Abaddon.” The warning is clear in my tone and my eyes. Abaddon bristles, taking it as a challenge. Beside me, Sophia rolls her eyes.
“Oh, would you look at that,” she says, gesturing down to the lower half of her body. “I have functional legs! I literally don’t have to stand here and listen to this.” She begins to walk away and I follow, knowing there are worse things in this palace than my brother’s narcissistic sneering.
Abaddon disappears, only to reappear a moment later at the door leading inside. He’s leaning against it, shaking his head and tutting his tongue. “Disengaging from a conflict? You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” His eyes flicker to Sophia. “You see, this is why your lover won’t be returning from this battle—he’s lost his edge. Living on Earth has turned him into a soft little pacifist.”
I slam him out of the way, smashing my arm across his collar bone while I guide Sophia past with a hand at the small of her back. Abaddon laughs, grating my nerves. The only thing I want to do more than smash his face into the stone is to get Sophia safely back to our rooms. “You think the angels will even bother putting on a show when they kill you?”
I freeze, knowing what he’s referring to. The psychic image of Uriel being slain by the angels flashes through my memory, along with a faint echo of the searing agony I felt at losing him.
Abaddon chuckles low in his throat. “Uriel was stupid enough to get caught, but at least he was bold enough to—”
I don’t give him a chance to finish. My hand is on his throat, smashing him against the wall hard enough to crack stone with his thick skull. “You will not speak his name,” I growl, glaring into Abaddon’s eyes as they bulge. “You are not worthy of calling yourself Uriel’s brother.”
A crowd is gathered behind me, watching the confrontation. I hear the subtle murmur of wagers being made and rumors born, and from the corner of my eye I see Cephalus and Aurora. They watch, curious but unconcerned. They never have seen the sense in breaking up fights between their children—especially as they are usually the ones to pit us against each other.
Abaddon is pulling on my arm, struggling against my hand. His legs kick in the air, too far from my body to do any damage. He’s furious and terrified, as he should be.
“I could kill you right now,” I tell him quietly. “Just a little more pressure, or my talons through your eyes. A little twist and a pop, and you’d be nothing more than a greasy spot on the floor.” I lean in close, making sure he hears every single syllable. “But you aren’t worth the trouble.”
I release my hand, letting him crash to the floor. As he wheezes, struggling to find his feet, I grab Sophia’s hand and stalk away. Mother’s sympathy brushes over me like cobwebs, Cephalus’s demanding glare pierces through my skull. I ignore them both, walking by without so much as a glance.
The last thing I need is to be fully immersed in the family drama all over again.
Chapter18
Sophia
Hell’s armyhas been very busy the last few days, preparing for the upcoming battle. This has kept Lucifer busy too, although he hasn’t insisted on me staying in the room while he’s gone. At first, he had Fenriz escort me wherever I went when he wasn’t available. Then, yesterday, Cephalus decided that Fenriz was too great an asset to leave behind, and pressed him into service.
Now, with both of them otherwise occupied, I’m really just trying to keep my head above water. There’s danger everywhere: even something as simple as a conversation can be deadly, and a gesture as benign as offering a drink can be construed as a threat. I’ve spent my time with Lucifer and Fenriz observing, interacting primarily with them and those who approach them, but today I’m on my own, and the palace is full of intrigue.
While it has been comforting to have Lucifer or Fenriz explain things to me and protect me from the various dangers of Hell in general and the palace specifically, I’m glad for the chance to exist here on my own while they’re still within shouting range. They’ll be heading to Earth for their battle soon, and I need to know how to protect and defend myself while they’re gone.
My first impulse is to go downstairs and watch the various vices build from sleepy morning indulgences to the wild pre-dinner party I keep hearing about. I figure everything else will seem tame in comparison, and I’ll be able to function with a clearer head if I’m not walking around in a state of shock all the time. I dismiss that idea pretty quickly, though. For one, I’m still not confident that I’ll be able to find my way there or back again. For another, I’m not entirely sure I wouldn’t be viewed as an appetizer down there, and I’m not quite prepared to defend myself against a gluttonous demonic frenzy.
So I follow Lucifer’s advice and head for the balcony he brought me to before, where the close friends of the family congregate to stay away from the peasants and plebs. At least I assume that’s why they’re there. I haven’t quite worked out the hierarchy of this place. I mean, obviously Lucifer’s family sits at the top of the food chain, but they seem simultaneously more casually tolerant and more aloof than I would have anticipated.
I find a nice, cool spot under the shade of a massive gargoyle in the center of the balcony and settle in for some intensive people-watching. It isn’t long before Aurora and Cephalus stroll by, arm-in-arm.
“Darling,” Aurora is saying. “It troubles me to watch you tie yourself in knots over this. You deserve their respect and obedience! Not only for your position as their leader, but as their father, and by merit of your advanced experience.”
“You don’t believe Abaddon’s advice is sound, then?” Cephalus asks.
“Mm, perhaps it is, but perhaps it isn’t. If it is, shouldn’t that come from you? To speak to you like that in front of the council is appalling. At the very least, he should have taken you aside and voiced his concerns. Then, if his advice holds merit, you would present it to your men as your own. Allowing such oppositional discourse is a recipe for disaster. He’s undermining your authority, dear.”
Cephalus makes a wordless, disgruntled sound. They’re out of earshot now, wandering away toward the palace. Just as I tuck that conversation in the back of my mind, Diana approaches, talking animatedly to a massive man made of muscle.
“Your timing could not be worse,” she snaps.
“Of course, Your Highness. My deepest apologies.”
