“Why not?” the Morrigan asked, tilting her head like an actual curious crow. “Isn’t it yours?”
“No,” Bex said with a wince. “It’s Rebexa’s, and I’m not her anymore. That’s my whole problem. I can’t pull my sword without the royal name bestowed upon me by my horns, and I can’t get my horns back without my sword.”
It was an obviously hopeless situation, but the Morrigan just gave Bex a frustrated shake.
“And here I thought Ishtar’s daughters were supposed to be clever,” she croaked in disgust. “If you need your name to getyour sword and your sword to get your name, then there’s only two solutions. You must either get a new sword—”
“No!” Bex shrieked, clutching her black ring to her chest. “Drox is my family!”
“Would you let me finish?” the crow snapped, striking Bex painfully on the head with the sharp tip of her beak. “As I was saying, you musteitherget a new sword or get a new name.”
Bex stopped rubbing her smarting head to stare at the goddess in wonder. “A new name?” she repeated in a trembling voice. “Could you give me one?”
“I didn’t mean from me,” the Morrigan said, crushing Bex’s newborn hope before it could finish rising. “I was never part of the Paradise fiasco, which is why I’m still alive.”
Bex scowled. “Then what are you—”
“I am still a wise and powerful goddess, however,” the Morrigan went on, speaking over her. “And as someonesomuch older and cleverer than Ishtar’s clumsy creations could ever hope to be, I will benevolently remind you ofthem.”
She tilted her wings as she spoke. They’d been gliding slowly down this whole time, but the Morrigan must’ve planned this from the start, because the moment she said “them,” they came back around the giant tree, and the square by the Hells’ Gate came back into view.
The sight made Bex go still. The newly plant-covered section of the White City was overflowing with a shocking number of demons. The sheer size of the crowd staring up at her was almost more than Bex’s brain could handle. She’d been told how many demons they’d saved from the Hells several times, but she’d never actually seen them all together in one place before this moment. They’d always been scattered between buildings or moving in smaller groups. Now, though, the sudden appearance of the Blackwood had brought the entire population of Gilgamesh’s former slaves out into the open.
There weresomany demons crowded into the square that even standing shoulder to shoulder, they still filled the entire plaza surrounding the entrance to the Hells. Still more had packed themselves into the tree-filled side streets while others leaned over the balconies of the listing apartment buildings. There were winged demons perching in the trees and war demons pouring out of the Hells’ Gate from the drinking-water distillery in former sin-iron forges to see what the commotion was about. More demons than she’d ever realized existed were pointing up at them right now, but while the Morrigan was smirking like that was the answer to everything, Bex still didn’t understand.
“I don’t get it,” she said, clinging to the Morrigan’s talons as she stared at the sea of demons below them. “What do my people have to do with my name?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” the crow replied with a chuckle. “But unlike some gods, I don’t believe in giving answers away for free, so here’s a question of my own instead. What makes a queen a queen?”
Bex thought about that for a moment. “Power?”
“But where does that power come from?” the Morrigan pressed. “Obviously it was Ishtar initially, but she’s been dust for eons. If she was still strong enough to swing a sword at Gilgamesh, she’d be out here doing it herself, but she’s not. Instead, she’s relying on you.”
The crow tilted her huge beak to look straight down at Bex. “Why do you think that is? If your crown and name are truly the source of your power, but the goddess who gave them to you is so weak that she can’t even talk to you unless you die, how are you a queen? Where does the power to name demons come from if not Ishtar?”
Bex had no idea. She hated riddles, and shehatedwasting time. Her loyal wrath demons had already suffered long enough.She needed to be down there evacuating them through the Blackwood back to Earth, where they could get food, not stuck up here playing guessing games with—
She stopped, glowing eyes flying wide. “It’s my demons.”
“Your demons, you say?” The Morrigan flashed her a smile, which was how Bex learned that her beak was full of razor-sharp teeth. “And what makes you think that?”
“Because they’re the only ones who could be doing it,” Bex said, talking faster as her brain began to whirl. “Every time I speak a demon’s true name, it takes effort. Back when my fire was super low, I could barely do it at all. Even after Adrian and the Blackwood rebuilt my bonfire, though, I could only name large groups if I got really fired up. I thought I was having trouble because my rebirths had ground me down, but that was never the problem. Italwaystakes power to speak a demon’s name because our names have power in and of themselves.”
Now that she’d said it out loud, the truth felt face-smackingly obvious. She’d actually witnessed this exact phenomenon in action just a few hours ago with the Queen of War. Even though she’d surrendered her horns to Gilgamesh, Dalanea still had her name.
If being queen was truly a divine right tied to being Ishtar’s daughter, then War should’ve been able to stomp her rebelling demons into submission, horns or no horns. That hadn’t happened, though, because Wardidn’thave enough power to name them on her own. Bex wasn’t sure ifshecould have quelled an entire tower full of rebelling demons who hated her guts even with her horns and her fire blazing. There simply wasn’t enough power now that Ishtar was no longer around to back her daughters up. But when those same demons had acknowledged Bex and offered their wrath to her of their own free will, she’d blazed brighter than ever before.
Bex had always assumed her ability to consume her demons’ fury was due to her nature as the Bonfire of Wrath, but what if turning into a sky-filling storm of fire every time the kick demons bowed to her in Limbo didn’t happen only because of their anger? What if Bex’s people—her loyal demons who’d never bowed to anyone else and never stopped believing that their queen would return to save them—hadactuallybeen empowering her the same way drinking vials of deathly water used to?
“Now you’re starting to get it,” the Morrigan said, nodding down at the crowd. “I can’t give you a name because you don’t belong to me, but you do belong tothem. As an extension of Ishtar’s power, you should have withered and died with your goddess five thousand years ago, but your people’s need for a champion kept you alive. Ishtar wasn’t the one who brought you back when you died. All she did was catch your soul. I’m sure she would’ve kept it if she could, but you were always born again because your people still needed a rescuer. You weretheirsword, not Ishtar’s.Thatis what makes you Queen of Wrath, so if you need a new royal name, I suggest starting there.”
The Morrigan dipped her beak toward the throngs of demons watching below, and Bex swallowed.
“How?” she asked around the lump in her throat. “We’re talking about meddling with the magic of Ishtar herself. Even if you’re right, how do I get them to—”
“The same way you get anything,” the Morrigan interrupted. “You ask.”
“But—”
