Forcing a curt nod, I turned and stalked past Fleshtalker before his suspicions had a chance to take root. I wound down the staircase, deeper and deeper, until the sounds of battle faded completely.
I reached a landing that opened into an antechamber where murals depicting scenes of demons ravishing mortal females decorated the walls. Opposite the stairs was a set of huge double doors, where two lower demons stood guard.
My blood hummed with the need for vengeance, and my hand closed around the hilt of my dagger. Lifting my chin, I forced myself to stay in character as I strode into Semphrys’s chambers.
The room was lit with huge bronze braziers that burned and crackled with hellfire. The flickering flames cast long shadows over the floor, and it took severalseconds for my eyes to adjust after the darkness of the stairwell.
The king’s chambers were sparsely furnished, and my heart beat faster when my gaze settled on the pale, bald figure seated on an enormous obsidian throne. He was dressed in dark robes that reached the floor and wore a crown made from jagged black crystalline shards that glinted in the firelight.
“Is it true?” the demon king rasped, his voice so similar to Kaden’s in pitch yet devoid of any warmth. “My son has come to kill me.”
“I’m afraid so, Your Majesty,” I replied in my best impression of Xadorsch’s silken tone.
“It would seem my progeny has more of his whore mother in him than I realized.”
My blood boiled at his words, but I merely inclined my head.
“How many fly with him?”
“About two hundred, sire.”
The king gave a wicked chuckle. “I suppose that is two hundred fewer Drathen scoundrels I shall have to dispose of when I take the throne of Anvalyn.”
“This is true, my king.”
“Once the Drathens have been slaughtered, bring me my son and his mate who he protects so fiercely.” A cruel sneer twisted his thin lips. “I know just how to make him pay for his transgressions.”
An unsettling chill crawled down my spine, but I swallowed and forced a placid smile. “It shall be done, Your Majesty.”
Gathering the remaining shreds of my courage, I swept across the chamber to a low obsidian table, where servantshad left a flask of wine and heavy chalices carved from a dark, smoky crystal. “Now that the prince and the Euroshean princess are within your grasp, let us toast to the future king of Anvalyn.”
There was a long, pregnant pause, and I didn’t dare glance back at Semphrys as I poured two cups of wine. My hands shook slightly as the ruby liquid sloshed into the glasses, but I kept my back to the king in the hope that he would not see.
“Very well.”
Blood pounded in my ears as I approached Semphrys, every fiber of my being recoiling at the dark, menacing energy that poured off him. It needled at my skin, probing at my very essence, and I hurriedly checked my mental defenses to ensure my hedge of thorns was still intact.
Kneeling before the demon king, I offered one of the chalices. He took it in his pale, gnarled hand, and it was an effort not to recoil as his fingers brushed mine. His nails were overgrown, cracked, and dirty, and when I finally met his gaze, his black eyes glittered in a way that made my stomach roil.
“To Anvalyn,” I said, lifting my own goblet. “Long live the king.”
Semphrys blinked, watching me like a house cat might watch a trapped fly beat itself against a pane of glass. My taste buds tingled as the bitter wine coated my tongue, and my whole body seemed to exhale as the king raised his own chalice.
Deep burgundy wine stained his bloodless lips, and I drained my own goblet to help settle my nerves as I prepared to take my leave. But then my eyes dipped to thehand that clasped the dark crystal stem, and horror clanged through me like the peal of a bell.
My hand was small and feminine, scarred from years of wielding a blade. It was not the hand of the demon courtier, which meant —
Heart in my throat, I lifted my gaze to the demon king, whose eyes sparkled with a twisted glee.
“Well, well,” he crooned. “If it isn’t my son’s half-huntress whore.”
Terror surged through my body in crippling waves, and I groped for my witchwood blade as Semphrys rose to his feet.
He was sotall. I’d never noticed his height before. He towered over me by at least a foot, but it was not his stature alone that stoked the wild fear in my bones.
Before I could move, the king’s shadows whipped out, forming dark, smoky tendrils that snaked around my neck. His shadows tightened, constricting my throat, while others slithered over my skin with a touch that made me shudder.
I felt something move against my thigh, and when I looked down I saw another plume of shadow lift the apokropos stone out of my pocket.
