Page 80 of To Dwell in Shadows
He glanced at her, brows lifting. “And now?”
Vanthee shrugged wearily. “It would be nice. But it’s unlikely. Since I already competed in the first trial, I entered the River of Hatred Trial too.”
“You did? I didn’t see you.”
She gave him a sly smile. “Then my disguise worked. I joined on a whim the first time to strike at Drath. But later, I started thinking… if I could win the title of champion, maybe I wouldn’t need to marry him. Maybe that would be enough for my father. So I gave it a shot.”
Realization hit Sam. “You were the one who flew across the river.”
“My wings were sore for days,” she said with a half-laugh.
They reached a large ember tree, its blackened bark glinting like coal. Beneath it, a bench had been carved from wood, worn smooth by time.
“Let’s sit a moment,” Sam said.
Once they were settled on opposite ends, Sam continued, “I want to tell you something, but it’s of great importance that you keep it secret. Your father already knows this, but no one else can. Do you understand?”
Vanthee looked suspicious. “Yes.”
Sam locked eyes with her. “My father is losing his powers,” he said slowly. “It signifies the end of his rule. And that a new Dark Sovereign must rise to take his place.”
For a moment, Vanthee didn’t react. Then, as if struck, she pressed a hand to her mouth.
“Asmodeus has ruled for centuries!” she whispered. “I can’t even imagine anyone else on the throne.”
“I know. That’s the real reason behind the trials. They’re not entertainment. They’re a way to find his successor—someone strong enough to rule the Underworld.”
Vanthee clutched her stomach. “Oh, I feel sick. Anyone could win those games!” She leaned back on the bench, taking several shaky breaths. When she opened her eyes, her expression had shifted. Disgust gave way to furious understanding.
“That’s why my father wants Drath to win so badly,” she said, then swore under her breath. “So I would be his queen. Or at least his consort.”
She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.
“My father wouldn’t want the crown himself—he hates anything that demands actual work or duty. But if he could rig it so his daughter has the ear of the king… Oh, Prince Samael, we can’t let this happen!”
Relieved that Vanthee grasped the gravity of the situation, Sam turned to face her fully. “My parents want me to be the next Dark Sovereign”—her eyes lit up, excitement flaring in her expression, but he raised a hand to stop her—“but I don’t want it,” he said firmly. “What I brought you here to ask, or rather, to say, is that I think you would be a good fit for the role.”
She drew back. “Me?”
“Yes,” he said with conviction. “We don’t know each other well, but I’ve seen your skill as a fighter and Selene has told me of your dedication as a Guide. You have respect for the dead and a deep knowledge of this realm. I’ve been on the lookout for a suitable candidate for a long time and no other demon comes close.”
Vanthee stared at the ground then murmured, “I… I never thought…” She glanced at Sam sideways. “Would I have to take a husband? Or rule with a male consort or advisor?”
“No. Not unless you wanted to. As Dark Sovereign, you would inherit all the powers my father has. You can call yourself queen or empress or anything you want. He reigned alone until he met my mother, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
She was quiet for several moments. Sam sat silently, watching a spectrum of emotions play across her face: hesitation, hope, fear, excitement.
“You don’t have to decide now. Take some time to think on it,” he said.
“I don’t need to think on it,” Vanthee said quickly. Her gaze drifted for a few moments. Then, with painstaking slowness, her mouth curved into a determined grin. “I don’t know if I’m the best choice, but there’s a lot I’d like to change here. So I accept your offer.”
Sam exhaled. With her acceptance, the pressure to leave the Underworld in a better state than when he arrived lightened even further.
“Excellent. When the next trial is announced, you can compete indisguise as you did before. Did you register with Ghar before the Infernal Combat Trial?”
“Yes, I registered under a false name,” she said, lowering her head wistfully. "My mother was called Nahmira, so I chose the name Nyrah.”
