Maybe Gilgamesh had dismissed her since she was broken. Adrian desperately hoped so, because Bex was also a hornless queen, and it was only logical to keep similar prisoners in the same area. If the former Queen of Pride truly was as lively as she seemed to beandshe was locked in the Hells, then there was a good chance Bex might be imprisoned right beside her.
Adrian almost burst into a grin before he caught himself. He couldn’t afford any mess-ups past this point. Pretending to be a loyal prince had gotten him this far, but eventually Adrian was going to have to play his hand, and since he was going into the Hells with an escort, he was going to have to do it with another prince andtwoprincesses breathing down his neck. It was a hell of a gamble, but if he could pull it offandhe was right about the circumstances of her imprisonment, then he wouldn’t just be bringing the Queen of Pride her horns. He’d also be bringing Bex’s ring and lost hand right to her.
That was a big enough prize to make Adrian very reckless indeed. He was desperately trying not to give himself away by looking too excited when the princess tugged on his sleeve again.
“There he is.”
Adrian’s brain had run so far ahead with his plots, it took him several seconds to remember which “he” the princess was referring to. Fortunately, or unfortunately, any questions he might have asked answered themselves when he looked up to see all the war demons that had been pushing sin iron out of the Hells abandon their carts and run back inside. A second later, the little side door closed, and the enormous pair of Gilgamesh-decorated doors started to move, the huge, sin-iron slabs grinding open under the power of a dozen demons so that a man in golden armor could stride through.
He was a very handsome prince. He had the same olive skin as Adrian, but his dark hair lay flat and shiny instead of curling, and his features were both sharper and straighter. He wasdefinitelyAgatha’s son, but the beauty he’d inherited from their mother was spoiled by the cruel gleam of his mirrored eyes as he dragged something out of the Hells behind him.
Adrian’s white blood ran cold. The prince was dragging a woman on a black chain. Her body was carved from bone and embellished with gold, but even with the prince walking in front of her, Adrian had trouble believingthatwas a princess. She lurched at the end of her chain like a barely-controlled wolf, straining against the manacles that bound her wrists, feet, and neck so hard that the metal had cut grooves into her ivory limbs. Her entire face was covered in a sin-iron cage, and her eyes were wilder than Adrian had realized hammered gold could look. She didn’t stop clawing at the ground the whole time her prince was walking toward them, lunging back toward the entrance to the Hells over and over with her white teeth bared like spikes behind the black cage of her muzzle.
“Stop that,” the prince hissed, yanking her back to his side. “Or I’ll feed you to the grinders.”
Adrian didn’t know what the grinders were, but the feral princess must have, because she stopped throwing herself at the doors, though she didn’t stop pulling. No matter where the prince tried to direct her, she went right back to the end of the leash, forcing the prince to drag her the last few feet toward Adrian.
“Ah,” he said when they were finally within conversational distance. “You must be the new brother Alexander warned me about. The witch.”
He said that last part like he expected Adrian to start sputtering with rage, but the witch just nodded. “Adrian Blackwood,” he said proudly, clicking the heels of his curl-toed boots together and standing a little taller so that his pointed black hat cast a long, triangular shadow over the prince’s glittery armor. “Fully initiated member of Blackwood coven.”
The prince rolled his mirrored eyes. “I’m Demetrios,” he said, leaning harder against his princess’s chain, “Prince of Hate and temporary overseer of the Hells.”
Adrian arched an eyebrow. “Temporary?”
“Extremely temporary,” the prince assured him. “My actual position is overseeing the warlocks, and I will be returning to that duty as soon as possible. The Hells are a job for the disobedient and the disgraced. That’s why Leander was there for so long. That and he didn’t have a princess. The Hells are hard on them. Just look what they’ve done to mine.”
He nodded at the feral doll straining at the end of the chain, and Adrian winced.
“The Hells did that to her?”
“Not all of it,” Demetrios said, giving him a superior look. “The Princess of Hate isn’t an easy weapon to control. She’d always required a firm hand, which is why Father gave her to me.I’ve managed her for forty years without issue, but five weeks in the Hells have rendered her almost unusable. She nearly took my arm off earlier today going after a runaway demon some idiot warlock lost control over.”
“There are runaway demons in the Hells?” Adrian asked with a mix of surprise and hope.
“There are runaway demons everywhere,” the prince replied with a scowl. “They’re a damned menace. Father should’ve dumped the entire race into the void eons ago, but they’re a necessary evil. As are you.”
He stepped closer, yanking his princess across the white paving stones until he was standing directly in front of Adrian’s face.
“Let’s get one thing very clear,” he said in a low voice. “I know you’re part of Father’s grand strategy, and I don’t care. All I want is for you to do whatever it is you’re here to do so Gilgamesh can finish whateverhe’sdoing and finally lift the ban on teleportation. That’s theonlyreason I agreed to Alexander’s insulting escort request, because until you finish your damned work, I’m stuck having to walk up a thousand flights of stairs every time I want to get out of this hell pit. If it wasn’t for that, I’d leave you to rot. I have no sympathy for spoiled traitors who use their position as Mother’s favorite to jump the line while those of us who’ve served loyally for centuries get passed over.”
“I can see how that would be upsetting,” Adrian replied in his most disarming voice. “But shouldn’t you be taking these complaints to Gilgamesh? He’s the one who made the decisions.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Demetrios hissed with a nervous glance at the golden eye watching them from the top of its obelisk. “Questioning Father’s judgment leads to things much worse than Hells duty. Now shut up and let’s get this over with. What are you here to find?”
“I’m not sure,” Adrian lied. “I’m sure it’s the last element I need to finish repairing the Queen of Pride’s horns, but I’m afraid I won’t know exactly what I’m looking for until I see it.”
“Are you serious?” the prince demanded, getting a tighter grip on his princess’s chain.
“Witchcraft is more art than science,” Adrian replied, doing his best impression of his aunt Muriel’s confidently dreamy expression, the one that always drove him insane but was also impossible to argue with.
He must’ve gotten it close enough because Prince Demetrios shook his head and turned around without another word, motioning impatiently for Adrian to follow him toward the giant black gates.
“Why did you make them open the big doors?” Adrian asked as he followed the prince—because he refused to call this ass his brother—past the rows of bowing war demons. “The smaller one would’ve been a lot less work.”
“Because sons of Gilgamesh don’t use servant doors,” the prince replied sharply, doing his best to walk at a stately pace despite the princess pulling him forward like an overeager pit bull. “And because we normally have construct soldiers to do it.”
He sneered at the line of war demons who were still standing in front of the open door with their horns down. “This forge filth isn’t normally allowed to set foot in our pristine Heaven, but Father’s recalled all the remaining operational constructs to the palace, so we’re having to make do.”
