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His polished shoes stopped at the base of the armchair. I could make out my reflection in them, and he smiled darkly at me even though I was frowning.
Now was not the time to show my madness. Without reacting, I slowly looked up at the God of the Seven Hells towering over me. White hair was swept back from sharp, merciless features. Milky eyes shone with cruel amusement as a feline smile curved his mouth.
“I thought I would escort you myself today. To ensure you do not bite the hand that feeds you again.”
His words burrowed beneath my skin, and I stared at him with every ounce of hatred that had grown beneath my skin.
He may have been a god, but he was just another fucking male in power controlling my freedom.
“Perhaps if you fed me something useful, I would not bite so hard,” I said, raising my chin and letting steel cut through my voice.
He let out a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands together, and it echoed through the room.
“Take Helion ahead to the maze,” he instructed the guards. “I need a moment alone with Lyra.”
The guards seized Helion beneath each arm and dragged him to his feet. He fought them, muscles straining beneath his tunic as he twisted against their grip, but they forced him upright with brutal efficiency.
“Astaroth,” he snarled, breathing hard. “You promised.”
The God of the Seven Hells didn’t spare him a glance as he was dragged out of the room, thrashing the entire way.
My stomach hollowed out, but I pushed it aside, squaring my shoulders as if ready for a fight.
“Let me go.”
“I could not even if I desired to,” he said, sobering instantly. “I am bound by my divine duty. Besides, you have been far too amusing. A good distraction for the Hells in this time of hardship.”
I stood, staring him down until he could see every ounce of hatred burning beneath my skin.
“Hardship?” I repeated, almost spitting the word back at him. “Is it hard killing innocent people with your monsters? Is it hard trying to rise and conquer the Fae and Mortals like a power-hungry tyrant?”
He cocked an eyebrow at me, milky eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “Why don’t you tell me?”
I opened my mouth, ready to throw another accusation at him, but nothing came.
“The Mortals are freezing,” he said quietly. “The Fae are being hunted, and the Hells…” He paused, curling his lip in utter disdain. “The Hells are burning. Because the Throne of Gods sits empty and broken.”
The ash constantly fluttering from the sky like rain—it was from his kingdom burning?
His words hung between us, as if he were waiting for me to respond.
The Fire Fates had said that the Hells were rising, was it to conquer or were they simply trying to escape?
“Because of Helion,” I said slowly. “So why does no one else take the throne?”
A disappointed sigh slipped from him, losing interest like a cat after it had killed a mouse.
“Because they cannot,” he said, tilting his head at me as if waiting for my reaction.
“Why?” I said through numb lips, the pounding of my heartbeat drowning out my words.
“Because you broke it, little goddess.”
I shook my head before I even realised I was moving, desperate to deny the truth clawing its way into my chest.
A laugh escaped me, brittle and hollow, the sound scraping against my throat before dissolving into the silence between us. It felt wrong the moment it left my lips, because he wasn't smiling. There was no triumph in those pale, corpse-white eyes, no satisfaction at finally cornering me in one of his cruel games. He was simply... watching me, as though waiting for the inevitable moment my mind caught up with a truth my soul had always known.
The laughter died.
