“All of it,” Gilgamesh replied, his voice rich with long-awaited satisfaction. “The Hells are an evil whose necessity hasfinally come to an end. Prince Adrian, too, has already served his purpose. Asking more from him at this point would be greed unbecoming of a king. I’ve got enough to do what I need, so I think it’s best for all involved if we cut our losses and proceed to Protocol Three.”
The prince jolted so hard that he nearly fell out of his golden chair. “Protocol Three?” he repeated when he’d recovered. “But that will—don’t you think that’s a bit—”
“Alexander.”
The voice in his ear was no louder than before, but the edge on it was enough to make the prince go still.
“Now is not the time to disappoint me,” Gilgamesh warned. “Never forget that I didn’t make you my Crown Prince merely because you’re my eldest surviving son. You earned that position through your own merit when you proved that I could trust you to follow orders. I made myself quite clear just now. Do we need to discuss this further?”
“No, Father,” Alexander replied, clutching his desk. “I understand you perfectly. I only hesitated because Leander is still undergoing punishment in the Lowest Hells. If I activate Protocol Three—”
“There you go, being soft on him again,” the king scolded. “I told Leander before—youtold him yourself that he wasn’t getting any more chances. Your brother made his decisions knowing what the consequences would be. Anything that happens from here on is his fault, not yours.”
“I understand that,” Alexander whispered, clenching his hands tighter. “It’s just… He’s my favorite brother.”
“I know,” his father told him gently. “And I deeply respect that loyalty, but you can’t make excuses for him forever. You’re the one who thought this situation was so dire that you contacted me after I expressly stated I was not to be disturbed. Are you doubting your own judgment?”
“Of course not,” Alexander said. “But—”
“Then handle the problem,” Gilgamesh ordered. “Protocol Three. I’ll be down to open the doors once I’m certain the treatment has been effective, and we’ll go collect the Queen of Pride’s repaired horns from her corpse together. Does that sound good?”
“Yes, Father,”Alexander whispered.
“Excellent,” Gilgamesh said. “You’re my best, Alexander. I’m counting on you to see this through. We’re so close to the future we’ve always wanted, the day we all get to finally escape our fate as the gods’ eternal jailers. I’d hate to stumble here at the end because you allowed your pity for a foolish brother to get in our way.”
The Crown Prince lowered his head. “I would never hinder your mission, my king,” he said quietly. “It will be done.”
“There’s my loyal prince,” his father whispered as his voice began to fade. “Well done, my son. Well done.”
The praise vanished into nothing, leaving Alexander alone in his office once again. He sat in the silence for as long as he could bear, and then he pushed back his chair to open his top desk drawer.
Because fate was cruel, the first thing he saw when he pulled it open was the folded square of blue silk he’d confiscated from the broken Princess of Sorrow before he’d sent her to be reverted. The sight of it made him feel like a villain, but as his father had just reminded him, Leander had been warned many times. He’d chosen his fate with open eyes, and while Alexander would mourn him for the rest of his life, his hand didn’t hesitate as he moved the folded fabric aside to grab the book-sized golden box beneath it.
Inside was a shaped velvet cushion with notches for three keys. Each was crafted from a different metal and marked with adifferent number. Alexander chose the last in the lineup: a heavy sin-iron skeleton key stamped with an elegant numeral3.
When he had it in his fingers, he rose from his throne-like chair and carried the key to a small golden panel hidden in the corner of his office behind a curtain. The panel swung open the moment he touched it, revealing three keyholes. After a slight hesitation, Alexander fit the black key into the final slot and turned it, sealing his favorite brother’s fate—and the fate of every other soul in the Hells—with a soft, resoluteclick.
CHAPTER 15
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IT WAS A WEIRDtrip back down to the Lowest Hell.
Bex was used to being the center of attention, but as they climbed down the white spiral through the conquered Middle Hells guard tower, every eye was locked on Nemini, which was honestly kind of fantastic. Bex had spent so long keeping her chin up and putting on a brave face that having someone else to soak up all those expectations for once felt like a vacation. The only hitch was that all those watching demons seemed to be staring at the Queen of Pride in mortal terror, which wasn’t so great.
Bex wasn’t even sure what they were frightened of. Other than her new giant horns, Nemini looked the same as she always did. She was no longer surrounded by shadow snakes—a move Bex had never seen her use before, but didn’t know if that was because the snakes were a returned queen power or simply something Nemini had never felt the need to roll out during the twenty-four years Bex’s current incarnation remembered—and her yellow eyes were barely glowing.
She’d never say so out loud, but Bex didn’t even think the new Nemini looked all that queenly. She just looked like herself, which was always a little unsettling but nothing to trigger a reaction like this. You’d think she was coming down the stairs on a chariot drawn by demon-eating hydras from the way the crowd was plastering themselves against the walls.
“I don’t see what everyone’s so worked up about,” Lys muttered from their spot on Adrian’s broom, which the witch was graciously letting them use so the injured demon wouldn’t have to walk. “You’re much more impressive.”
“It’s not a competition,” Bex whispered, keeping her eyes on the crowd of demons, who seriously looked like they were about to jump out the windows to get out of Nemini’s way. “But this is super weird. Nemini just saved all our bacon. They were cheering for her just a few minutes ago, so why does everybody look like they think she’s about to eat them?”
“Probably because she’s an unknown,” Lys speculated, rubbing their bandaged shoulder with a wince. “There’ve been stories about the Queen of Wrath coming to burn down the Hells since Gilgamesh made them, but the Queen of Pride is a new commodity, and the few legends that survive about her aren’t exactly friendly.”
“But she saved us,” Bex insisted.
“So what?” Lys said. “You’ve saved tons of people, and most of them were scared of you after the fact.Iwas scared of you at first, because queens are freaking scary. You’re practically gods. It’s intimidating.”
