Page 51 of Witch Queen

Nikolai could feelthe heat from Armaros’s forge even where he and Astarte sat beside Vannog and Vozgan on the other side of the courtyard. Father and son were having a mid-morning snooze, their snores rattling the windows facing the castle forecourt. The purple helldragon had arrived that morning with fresh news.

The last of the army that had attacked Arakiel’s city had finally been disposed of.

Nikolai had wanted to ask Astarte if chasing the remaining troops was worth the effort, but he’d never questioned her in the end. It was not his place to doubt the will of a Goddess, nor the decisions of demon commanders who once occupied the highest seats in Heaven.

Tension coiled through him as he watched Mae and Brimstone where they framed Armaros. Demonic energy woven with black and white magic throbbed off them as they infused the pendant the demon was painstakingly melting with their powers while it returned to its liquid state.

They’d been at it for two hours already and had barely liquefied a fraction of Hellreaver’s dormant form.

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” Astarte murmured.

Nikolai’s chest tightened a little. “Yeah, she is.”

The Goddess smiled faintly. “Spoken like a man truly smitten.” She fixed him with a curious stare. “What would you have done if she’d picked the incubus instead of you?”

Nikolai’s insides twisted at the question. It had kept him awake more nights than he cared to admit. He hesitated.

“I…would have accepted her choice.”

Vannog opened a lazy eye.

“Really?” Astarte said.

Nikolai frowned at their dubious stares. “What, you think me incapable of bowing out of a fight gracefully?”

“Yes,” Astarte said bluntly. “You seem like the kind of guy who’d toast your competition alive with Hellfire Magic before you ever admitted defeat.”

Nikolai’s frown deepened.

Vannog scratched his cheek with a giant claw. “Your fatheristhat dastardly Sorcerer King, after all.”

“I would prefer it if you did not remind me,” Nikolai said coldly.

“We cannot choose who sires us.” Astarte’s gaze found Mae. “Nor who will steal our heart.” A faraway look came over the Goddess. “Protect that which you cherish, sorcerer.”

Nikolai could not help but suspect a hidden meaning behind her words. From the worried glance Vannog gave Astarte, it seemed he was right.

The Goddess’s next words made him stiffen.

“That Hellfire Magic should have consumed you when you first touched it. That you are able to withstand its destructive powers means it has accepted you for some reason.”

Nikolai’s pulse accelerated under her guarded stare. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that not just anyone can handle a power akin to Heaven’s Fire.”

Nikolai swallowed. He’d forgotten that Azazel had based Hellfire Magic on Heaven’s Fire. Cold fingers danced down his spine as he recalled an ugly truth.

“Vedran absorbed that magic from my core. He can control it too.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” A dark smile curved Astarte’s mouth. “Those who mess with powers they don’t fully grasp soon find out how dangerous they truly are.”

Alastair rustled his wings nervously and inched closer to Nikolai.

He was still wondering what the Goddess meant when Cortes returned from his tour of the city with Us’gorith. Popo was clinging limply to the sorcerer’s shoulder.

“What’s the matter with him?” Nikolai asked.

“He almost got eaten by a kid,” Cortes muttered.

---