She, a Hell-born imp with no title, no family, and nothing to lose, shushed her Prince. My anger evaporated, if from sheer amusement. She was all backbone, no panache. It was winsomeas fuck. If I survived the day, I’d give her a full-time job as my court advisor, solely for the knowledge that she’d have the biggest balls in the palace.
Finger still lifted, she said, “Let me finish.”
At least I was walking into my execution with the coolest imp in Hell. “Give them what they want. That’s your plan?”
“This religion they fear—their Christ—it came with a predetermined adversary. Gods went from revered and thriving, to discarded and banned overnight. We’ve never seen anything like it. They’re clinging to this legend?—”
I scoffed. “It’s barely obscure folklore.”
“They’re clinging to thislore,” she amended, though the irritation as she emphasized the supplemented word was enough to win me back, “because it is the hope they need. It doesn’t matter if it’s lore, mythos, or prophecy. They have no options without it. So, go. Be with her. We all know what she looks like, now, anyway.”
Every muscle in my body contracted in a visible flinch.
“Her soul has quite the aura. Out of, gods almighty do they breed, how many are there now?” She folded her arms, tapping her foot as her gaze went up and to the side. “Three hundred million? You couldn’t have picked an emerald soul? A sapphire aura? It had to be this cloud-bright shimmer? That’s on you.”
I took to pacing. “So, Iamon trial.”
“No. And that brings me to my final point.”
My steps slowed. I stopped a few feet away from Tzipporah, meeting her eyes. “Get on with it.”
She went to the desk and slipped her crimson fingers around the scroll. She rolled it tightly, then stuck it into a compartment somewhere on her back—a bag, a pocket, for fuck’s sake maybe she was holding it with her forked tail—before settling against the wooden lip, just as I had mere moments before.
She shrugged. “Kill them.”
A single, breathy chuckle. I wasn’t wrong to like her. “Excuse me?”
Only one shoulder lifted and dropped this time. “Get out there. Remain unapologetic. Tell them you understand their fear. Reassure them that you’ll be with your human from this point forward, as your presence in her life is your wish as much as theirs. And then explain that, now that you’ve complied, anyone who hurts your human will face whatever wrath you see fit.”
I pressed my fingertips into my temples. “They won’t…”
“They will. Have everyone press their fingertip to the treaty before they leave.”
“Tzipporah, not to be rude, but?—”
“But I’m just an imp.” She headed toward the door. She yanked it open with one swift motion, then plunged her hand into the pool of shadow within the hallway before someone standing guard handed her an object. She jerked her head toward the corridor for me to follow, then disappeared into the hall.
I was several paces behind by the time I reached the hall. I could scarcely make out the flick of Tzipporah’s forked tail in the torchlight as I jogged to catch up to her.
I followed her, as if she was the palace’s resident and I was the stranger. She remained silent as we crossed the length of the grounds.
We heard the cacophony of noises long before reaching the stadium.
Perfumes, oils, musk, inborn fragrance, handheld incense, balm, hit me like a wall. Too many gods, too many smells, too many sounds, too much energy, too many beings who didn’t belong in Hell.
I was suddenly grateful for Tzipporah’s smooth gait as she led us to the dark chute with one dim light at the end of thetunnel. Through there, we’d reach the stadium. Through this tunnel, specifically, I’d bypass the audience and march directly to the center, alone and on display.
“Ready, Prince?”
I shifted my jaw from side to side. “I hate this.”
Her apathy cracked for the barest of moments as she gave me a glimpse at underlying amusement. At last, it was time for me to see what she’d retrieved from the hall before marching me to Hell’s funeral.
The object remained behind her back. “Do me a favor.”
“To one day walk in the shoes of someone with your boldness…”
She procured the object. A black, thorny ringlet. A crown.
