Page 134 of Hell Bound

One of the noblewomen lifted a glass of wine to her lips, covering her smile as she whispered to her friend. Clothes rustled, movement began to return, and all the growing whispers became a rising hum.

Asmodeus was still white with rage, Duke Sorath barely repressing his glee. “Continue,” the king called, waving a hand at the musicians that had come to a screeching halt over Lilith’s outburst.

Music resumed and several dancers swirled back out onto the floor, some of them still grinning widely. There was nothing like a dramatic exit to get the blood flowing.

Deasley was still lingering behind my shoulder. The corners of his eyes squinted, giving away his anxiety. Being in the same room as Sorath—or anywhere in the same Court—did his confidence no favors.

He followed me when I began to move, then sucked in a breath when he realized where I was heading. “Commander, should we really interfere with this tonight?”

“Tonight is as good as any other night,” I growled, and Deasley waved frantically at someone.

A moment later, Jovran fell on my other shoulder.

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “We’ve been toeing the line, sir. She brought this down on her own head.”

I stopped in my tracks, staring at Jovran. The heat of hellfire burned the sockets of my eyes.

He lifted his chin, but stood his ground. “We warned her over and over again.”

“Maybe so.” My voice sounded distant, even to me.

I’d warned her, and she hadn’t heeded.

She’d seen the Garden of Lilith, and even then, that wasn’t enough to convince her that the Infernal Court wasn’t a place where she could play games and walk away as the winner.

But maybe if I hadn’t pushed her away…

Even so, I needed to know she at least had the sense to survive here. She was still mortal.

She thought she could insult kings and dukes to their faces in front of their courts, and walk away unscathed.

If Asmodeus had his way—and he would—there would be quite a bit of scathing.

“But I can’t leave her to face it alone.”

I strode away again, cutting through dancers, pushing past courtiers gossiping over wine. Those feasting at the tables watched me idly, some sucking grease from their fingers as they watched me go.

I was nearly at the door when a dark formbillowedinto me. There was really no other word for it.

One moment, the way was clear, and the next there was a swirling cloud of emerald and black clinging to my arm.

Tonight Braith’s veil was almost transparent, her over-large eyes gleaming through it. “Where are you going, Prince Morningstar? We didn’t get to spend any time together earlier.”

For a moment, hatred rose in me, sharp and bright as an arrow, but it was overlaid by something worse: the thick weight of pity.

Braith was the daughter of a Baron, one of the lowest-ranking members of the Spectral Court nobility—and her father was despised by the Duchess, who could’ve otherwise arranged a match.

She must have had no prospects at all if she thoughtIcould do anything to improve her lot in life.

She clung to me even as I shook her off, gently disentangling those claw-like fingers from my sleeve.

“Braith,” I said, trying not to snarl the words, but it was best to be blunt. “We will never spend time together. I have no interest in you whatsoever.”

She blinked up at me, her mouth dropping open, but she was still innocent and young in the ways of her kind. She would not order or press me, confident that I would be forced to obey.

I used the opportunity to move her aside and headed for the door once more.

This time, I made it through without interruption.

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