“You see, I had asked you to arrange a meeting with Nephithar'slovely angelic consort some time ago.” He pauses deliberately. “Yet somehow, she made it to Hell and back without coming to me.”
“The circumstances were extraordinary—” Az begins.
“Were they?” Sataniel stops pacing and faces Ashtaroth directly. “Because from where I stand, it looks like she came running the moment you called.”
Lana looks between the two archdemons and the Devil, her face pale but determined. “She came to help save Simone and the baby. That's all.”
“Ah, the fierce little mortal speaks.” Sataniel's attention shifts to her, and I see Ashtaroth's hands clench into fists. “You always were… refreshing.”
Leander's soft sounds grow more insistent. I can't help myself—I look toward the bassinet, every instinct screaming at me to go to my child.
“Ashtaroth,” Sataniel continues, still looking at Lana with those unsettling diamond eyes, “you will arrange that meeting. Soon. Or I might begin to question where your loyalties lie.”
“Of course, My Prince,” Ashtaroth replies evenly. “I will see that it's arranged.”
“Excellent.” Sataniel straightens, smoothing down his perfectly pressed shirt. “Then I wish you a lovely remainder of the evening.”
With that, he disappears, only leaving behind a miasma of power.
I stand up so fast my chair almost tips over, rushing to Leander's side. Even though he's not crying, I can't help myself—I need to hold him in my arms, reassure myself that he's safe.
No one says anything as I cradle my baby against my chest, struggling to calm my racing heart.
“It's alright, little fairy,” Az says. “Come here.”
He reaches for me as soon as I get close enough. Maybe he's reassuring himself I'm fine too.
“That was weird,” Lana says, a frown on her face. “Wasn't it?”
Cometo think of it…
“He didn't even look at Leander,” I murmur.
“What's that?” Az asks gently.
“When we were in the Pits, he kept saying he had an interest in our baby, right?” I carry on, settling down at the table again with Leander in my arms. “But he didn't even look at him now. All he cared about was Syrin.”
“What are you thinking, Simone?” Ashtaroth asks, those unfathomable eyes fixed on me.
I roll my lips together, rocking Leander as I gather my thoughts.
“I'm thinking that he doesn't care about our offspring at all. Or… or maybe he doesn't care if they're boys.”
Lana cringes. “I don't like where this is going.”
“What if he knew?” I continue. “What if he knew our baby was going to be a boy and he… and he only wanted Az and me to do the soul bargain so that I stay alive for the birth. Long enough for Syrin to come to Hell.”
“It's a leap,” Az says, not unkind. His hand rests on my shoulder, his thumb gently stroking the skin exposed by my sleeveless dress.
“It is plausible.” We all look at Ashtaroth. “He told me he wishes to speak to Syriniana about an ancient prophecy. And he certainly does care about our offspring. At least some of it. I believe you are correct in your assumptions, Simone.”
“He needs a daughter from one of us…” Lana swallows hard. “He thinks it has something to do with a prophecy.”
Ashtaroth takes her hand in his, surprising me with the display of affection. “Whether it is our child he needs, or Asmodai's, we will not let him use her.”
“But what can you do?” I breathe, struggling to raise my voice. What ifhe'ssomehow still listening?
Az squeezes my shoulder, drawing my gaze. “We will defy the Dark Prince or the Council oranyonewho stands between us and protecting what we love.”
