She shot him another glare. “I have heard a lot about your alliance, but I could never determine one thing: what do the Møriør want?”

“To stop the apocalypse.”

“Stop it? You bring the doom.”

He shook his head. “We herald it. The Vertas alliance is led by Nïx the Ever-Knowing, a madwoman who seems bent on destroying this universe. She foolishly believes she can match Orion in power.” Her counterintuitive maneuvering left the Møriør scratching their heads. If Orion was known as the Undoing, Nïx should be known as the Unpredictable. “Yet so many in Gaia—including the fey—foolishly trust her. We will stop her. We will right the balance.”

“By enslaving us all? By annihilating our way of life and burning our realms to the ground?”

“By defeating and governing you. We journeyed from the Elserealms to Gaia solely for that purpose.”

“Do you intend to govern us like you did the legions who’d gathered below? I think the word you’re looking for is oppress.”

Irritation simmered. “I might have . . . intimidated them so they would return to Slaughter Gorge, to resume their interminable punishment.”

“That sounds dire.”

“It should be. They took part in an uprising against my sire, so Devel punished them diabolically.”

“How so?”

“He divided them into two armies, banishing half to an inferno on one side of the valley and half to an abyss on the other. Each of their strongholds contained a locked portal that led out of hell and a golden key.”

“Let me guess: the key only worked on the opposite army’s portal.”

Sian was impressed. “Just so. Their desire to leave hell embroiled them in eternal strife. They’ve battled each other every night for millennia.” At least until the Vrekener queen had somehow stolen both keys. All Melanthe had wanted was the godsdamned gold.

“Millennia? You didn’t think they’d served a long enough punishment?” Calliope asked, incredulous. “So you sent them back for more?”

“Eternal means eternity.” Sian had replaced the keys, starting the whole thing back up again.

“What about forgiveness? Or peace?”

“Demons don’t forgive, and peace is overrated. War is what I live for. I have the disposition for battle and a body designed for killing.” He took a drink. “Let me guess: you don’t believe in war.”

“Only when it can’t be avoided and it ends in peace. You’re planning to invade Sylvan, but you don’t have to. Is there anything in the universe that I could do or say to keep you from attacking?”

Careful, Calliope, you could give a demon dangerous ideas. What did he want more? Payback against Sylvan, or its former princess in his bed?

He intended to have both. “I will enjoy my long-awaited revenge.”

“Then fey children are right to be afraid of you.” Did younglings truly fear them all? “What will you do when you conquer the kingdom?”

“So certain of my victory?”

She rolled her eyes.

He liked that she understood his might. “After wiping out any resistance, I will free the demons of that land, then enslave the fey nobility. I daresay you’re a member of the Sylvan gentry.”

“I daresay I’m already a slave.”

Gods, her insolence was sexy. Excitement continued to burn away his ennui.

“I would support your first decree,” she said.

“Would you indeed?”

She nodded. “If I were queen, I’d liberate all the demons.”

“You mean those serfs?”

Her cheeks flushed, his barb hitting home. “I was young when I left the kingdom. I might not have understood Sylvan as well as I’d thought.”

Her admission surprised him. “But you wouldn’t support my second decree? Do you not think the fey overlords deserve a like punishment for enslaving others?”

“If you did that, you would be duplicating the worst thing that kingdom ever did.”

“Your actions were critical to the success of that slave raid!”

“I’m not Karinna.” Seeming to rein in her temper, she said, “You don’t have to be that kind of ruler. Don’t do this, Abyssian.”

“What do you know of ruling? Or of anything?”

“What do you know? You’ve been king for just a short while, and your first decree is war? No, wait—that’s your second. Your true first was doubling down on an eternal punishment.” Tone dripping with sarcasm, she said, “Your royal record will be unmatched in history.”

If Sian hadn’t fucked up so dearly in the past, Goürlav’s record would’ve been historic. After his brother had been forced to abandon all those subjects, the young, idealistic king had lost any desire he’d had to make changes.

He’d shouldered all the blame for families being torn apart, and for what had happened to Sian. “Dear gods, brother, how could they have . . . your horns were . . . ?” Goürlav hadn’t even been able to say the word: amputated. “They will never grow back . . . and I forced you to go there.” Sian had handed Goürlav his bloodied horns, telling him, “Cast these away. I never want to see them again.”

To this day, he had no idea what Goürlav had done with them.

Calliope said, “If you’re going to defeat and govern, then decree instead that the fey and demons live in peace together. Make the kingdom an example of what could be.”

“The Sylvans would never live like that. They consider every other species inferior. Did your family not raise you to believe that?”

“I can think for myself.” Five words Kari would never have uttered.

“Come, you must believe the practices of other species are savage. For instance, a demon’s claiming bite.”

“I’d say it’s fairly common. The Lykae and vampires do it too.”

“If you were mate to a Lykae, would you let him mark your flesh?”

“If I loved and trusted him, I would,” she said, astounding Sian. “But . . .”

“But what?” Of course she would qualify such a statement.

“I don’t think it’s fair. Why don’t females ever get to bite? If I wore a mark, I’d make my man get a tattoo or something.”