Emmanuel keeps a pace ahead as I follow the line of males to the looming stronghold, its blackened façade darker than the pitch night it stands in.
Balor struts through the grand doors of the antechamber.
“You’ll wait here,” he tells Emmanuel, and my assassin steps into shadow and disappears.
I follow Del into the throne room, which is empty of Nerian’s court; only guards and the king are present.
Del is an unexpected comfort, drowning my insecurities with his confident stride and intentional presence for this audience with evil.
Nerian is draped over his throne haphazardly, lying on his back and playing absently with his tooth necklace. He traces his fingers along the teeth dangling in front of his face, and I have to work to keep my face neutral.
“My king,” Balor calls, trying to wrangle his attention, but Nerian just grins at his necklace dancing in the candlelight.
Del ascends the dais and peers over him.
“King Nerian,” he drawls.
Nerian jerks to attention. “Ah! You’re herrrrre,” he slurs.
“Drunk on bloodandwine from your cellar, it seems,” Del says, his second persona a well-worn mask.
“Did you turn your girlsss—” Nerian slogs his body around to sit up in his throne, drunk eyes raking over me.
I curtsyslightly. “We enjoyed them greatly and turned three. The other two are burning outside as we speak. Second lost control.”
Nerian’s laughter scrapes along my skin. “I knew he was starving. That’s just fantassstic.” He rolls onto his side, clinging to his throne, and Del steps away right before the king vomits on the dais.
Wine runs down the steps toward me, and I shift to the side to avoid it.
Nerian has destroyed himself.
“We can leave you to your evening, my king,” Del says, eyes shifting to mine.
“Yes, good. Fetch me replacements for the cellar to review next week,” he says, sobriety claiming him for a moment as his eyes flash in pleasure with talk of his cellar.
It requires all of my control to keep my face blank while my rage is boiling beneath my skin. I refuse to let any morereplacementsend up there.
The king focuses on the teeth dangling in his grasp as Del joins me at the foot of the dais, saying quietly, “He always drinks before the full moon”
“Does he take the serum?” I ask.
Del looks at me. “Surprisingly, no.”
I hum in thought. “Evil doesn’t sprout from nowhere,” I say. “Perhaps he needs to walk amongst whatever fuels it.”
Del glances up at Nerian. “He’s done for the night. He’s piss-drunk.”
A visiting queen isn’t even enough motivation to restrain himself.
I wonder if we could kill him now, but there are a hundred guards surrounding us, and Charlotte and Second are gone.
“Let’s get out of here,” Del says, leading the way.
Balor waits for us as we approach the antechamber. “Where are you two going?”
Del pauses, his hand gently brushing at my hip to keep me back, which seems dramatic until I notice Balor’s hand on his hilt, and I’m surprised there isn’t a low growl coming from his throat to go with the look on his face.
“Why is that your business?” Del demands.
