“I’ve got this,” she replied in the same tongue, stepping away from Sian. “Obviously.”

Still, he used one bloody wing to ward off the king’s guard, telling them, “You do not want to anger her. Lay down your weapons and back away.”

When their king fell to his hands and knees, they did.

“No, no.” Saetth’s features bulged grotesquely, his face mottled. Reaching for Calliope, he collapsed to his front.

His crown tumbled from his head, rolling across the marble floor like a loosed coin.

In a lower voice, she told Saetth, “Oh, cousin, that Titanian steel was laced with lethal venom harvested from a Leviathan’s fang.”

Sian’s gaze snapped to her. The scepter. The Lôtān head.

Chin raised, Calliope lifted one pale shoulder at him.

Sian gazed at her in awe. Mine. “My clever queen.” With her hell crown.

If he had known all those years ago that his sacrifice wouldn’t be wasted . . .

She returned her attention to Saetth, watching his death with disdain. The Møriør had tried to kill him for ages. A twenty-four-year-old fey with no fighting skills had taken him out.

In seconds, the unending millennia of King Saetth’s life drew to a macabre close. He took a last gurgling breath. His body spasmed before going still.

The remaining attendees screamed and fled the room.

Only a few guards lingered, looking wary of Sian and Calliope.

In an authoritative tone, she commanded them, “Collect the body and that spent scepter—without touching either. Burn both, and secure the castle.”

“Yes, my queen,” a senior guard said.

As Sian tore free one of the dozens of arrows in his body, he probed the male’s mind. That guard and the others had hated Saetth, were relieved another ruler would take his place; not to mention that she was next in line of the succession. Good. They intended to do her bidding.

Unfortunately Sian wasn’t faring much better than the corpse they carried away. A snapped spear tip had lodged near his heart, and the mass quantities of poison were starting to hit—not lethally like Lôtān venom, but enough to affect even him. It prevented his wounds from mending, which meant blood continued to drain from him.

He held out till the guards had gone, then lurched on his feet. One of his legs, sliced from the back, buckled. “Calliope . . .” He dropped to his knees in a pool of blood.

SIXTY

Abyssian!” Lila rushed to his side, trying to steady him, but he fell backward onto his ravaged wings. “Damn it, I told you to fight back.” She cradled his head in her lap.

“They are your subjects. I can’t hurt my queen’s subjects.” He weakly reached for her face, brushing the backs of his claws over her cheekbone. “You were amazing tonight, love. I am so proud of you.”

Her chest twisted. All her big talk about wanting nothing to do with him faded. He’d come for her, believing he would save her. He’d fought off an army—without harming a single soldier. For me. “You look awful.” She started yanking arrows from him. He must have twenty broken shafts jutting from him, and at least a hundred more arrowheads embedded inside him. “We’ve got to get you back to hell.” Yank.

He grimaced at her less-than-gentle ministrations. “Can’t trace there. You barred me.” And she couldn’t unbar him until she returned to that realm. “How did you do that anyway?”

“I found the hellfire. Or it found me. I got some powers and figured out how to use a couple.”

A gust of breath left his lungs. “My beautiful, brilliant wife.”

Yank. “Am I still your wife?” Her temper simmered.

“Always. Even when I’m acting like an idiot.”

“I thought you had forsaken me.” Yank.

Shaking his head, he tried to help her with the arrows. “Don’t touch the poison. You can sicken.”

She slapped his hand away. “Uthyr left the portal open for me until twelve.” Could she get Abyssian out of the castle and across the grounds to reach it? “But I ought to let you bleed out for that bullshit you pulled today.”

He nodded. “I broke my pledge. Did just what you feared I would. I should not have taken out my pain and resentment on you.”

“Well, I did agree to spy on you.” Yank. “I lied repeatedly.”

“Your deception was born from desperation and longing for a better future. Mine grew from bitterness.”

“I was desperate. I would’ve done anything to be free from the Møriør’s threat.”

“It guts me that you were terrified of us all. I want to make up for every second you lived in fear.”

“That doesn’t change my blood.” Yank. “I belong to the line Rune wants to wipe out, the one you said deserves its annihilation. The tainted one.”

He flinched.

“Still want to have kids with me?”

“It would be my honor to.” He reached for her, but she slapped his hand down again.

“Would Rune put them in his sights?”

“Never. He’s known who you were, but he didn’t tell me because he wanted me to discover happiness with you.” That surprised her. “He was hoping you would confide your secrets to me.”

“I wanted to make sure of your feelings for me before I risked everything on you.” Yank. “After last night, I’d planned to confess. You never gave me the chance because you invaded my privacy!” Of course, she’d never revealed that she could read his thoughts in hell.

“I fucked up again and again. Tell me I’m not too late. Tell me I haven’t ruined everything. Can I play that . . . get-out-of-jail-free card?”

Her anger began to cool, but she didn’t want it to. “I can’t keep paying for crimes I don’t remember. I’m done with that.” Yank. “What happens the next time you fly off the handle? Will you lure me down to your creepy dungeon again? The days of me trustingly closing my eyes for you are over.”

He winced. “I am so sorry for that. It’s no excuse, but I relived a memory today, one that has always made me crazed. I’d tried not to think of it. . . .”

“What memory?”

“Our last day together.” His words were starting to slur, and his wounds weren’t closing. “I couldn’t handle the rage. Couldn’t think. But now I see it’s all connected.”