Melek had been twitchy from the moment we’d heard the news from Caelan—whom Jann was sending every few days to “clean Melek’s apartments in case he returned.”
I’d seen the look that passed between her and Melek when she told us. I confronted him the moment she was gone.
“What’s going on? Why did you look nervous?”
Melek’s eyes went flat. “Because, I’m praying this isn’t what I think it is.”
“Which is what?”
“A display of the pregnant queen.”
My blood ran cold. “What do you mean… display?”
Melek only shook his head and told me to pray…
The Coliseum below us rumbled with the anticipation of the Nephilim hoards. So far, the stage remained empty. Then the torches along the walls flickered, as the curtains in the wings twitched back.
A low roar filled the air when Gall walked out of the wings, his expression tight. From this distance I couldn’t see his eyes clearly, but whatever was going on, he was followed by the Advisors—including Jann—though without Diadre, or any of the other women this time.
They filed onto the stage behind him, and it wasn’t until one of the other Advisors raised his hands to quiet the applause, and the shouts of the Nephilim in the audience began, that I realized who was missing. Namely, Istral. AndLucifer.
‘Melek, what’s going on?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m cautiously hopeful since Istral isn’t here.’
‘Where is that Fallen fuck, though?’
Melek only shook his head. Of course he couldn’t answer. I reached for Diadre to see if she could ask Jann, but she wasn’t close enough for me to reach.
What the fuck was going on?
The crowd bubbled with unease. Gall stood at the center of the stage, his chin high, but even from this distance I could see the deep smears of red on his cheeks.
He was embarrassed? Or angry?
“Thanks for coming,” Gall called when the crowd finally quieted enough for him to be heard.
I frowned. While I was glad to see that tonight we apparently got therealGall—the soft, uncertain male—the hair on the back of my neck stood up, because it was very clear that the Nephilim hadn’t expected this. And they weren’t pleased.
Over the following, painful minute, Gall stumbled on his words, restarted sentences several times, then offered a garbled apology before blurting out, “I’m here to tell you the queen is pregnant!”
I froze, my stomach turning to a block of ice. Melek squeezed my hand. Neither of us looked away.
“Melek—”
He shushed me, and squeezed my hand again, shaking his head. His expression was deeply concerned.
At first, the Neph seemed pleased—there was applause and a few roars. But then voices peppered the air—individuals shouting.
“Where is she?”
“Display her!”
“If she’s pregnant, prove it!”
Gall’s eyes went round and he looked over his shoulder, then back to the crowd, raising his hands and gesturing to the Neph, as if to shush them. “It’s good news! You should be happy!”
Oh, Gall. What are you doing?
