Page 81 of A Realm of Fire and Ash

A loud crash of thunder echoes through the hall and rain begins to pour outside just as Caius escorts Morte into the room.

A smile curves my face when I see what she has on. Is this a power play?

She wears my black and gold armor, something I never let anyone wear unless they are of my blood, and I haven't had a blood relative around for years. It's the purest symbol of my rule, and here she stands, bold as day wearing it. Caius must've used magic to make it fit her slight form.

The courtiers whisper to each other in surprise and dismay. Morte looks directly at me, her gaze steady and unaffected.

I chuckle and break the tension. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic," I say, a hint of amusement in my voice. "But I trust there's a reason for this bold fashion statement?"

Morte steps forward, confident in her stride. "I come to honor you, my lord." The grin she gives me is pure malice despite her honeyed words.

Raising my voice, I call out to the rest of the room for silence. Their words hush, and the only sound is the rain and the quiet shuffle of wings until I speak.

"Morte of Bedlam, you've won the Forsaken Hunt, and now you get a favor. What shall it be?"

Morte's smirk fades into a solemn expression. "I'm here to collect two favors."

I raise an eyebrow, considering her words carefully and my laughter joins the rest of the audiences. "Two? The game is for one."

Caius' steps falter where he's climbing the dais to be at my side. He, too, wears armor, but instead of black and gold, it's his usual black and silver. The metal clinks as he takes his place next to me.

Morte bows deeply, a gesture of respect and submission if it weren't for the mocking glint in her eye. She stands, turning her attention to Caius.

"I'm here to collect yours, too." She grins.

I turn to face him, leaning in to whisper, "What the fuck is she talking about?"

He winces. "It's the deal I made with her when she first got here."

I grit my teeth and silence the room once more. "Go on." I sigh.

Morte glances behind her, seeking someone in the throng of attendees. When she can't find who she's looking for, she leaves the plinth and makes her way through the crowd.

* * *

Morte

Shocked facesof fae and demons greet me as I barge through the revelers. My wings snap out, sending a gust of wind at such angles that they create an open path, and Aggonid's gaze burns against my back, but I don't dare turn around. When I spot his handsome face along the far wall, his wide eyes meet mine and he hisses, "Morte, what are you doing?"

"Trust me." I grab his hand and drag him through the outraged chatter, pushing my way back to the footpace.

Caius' uncertain gaze lingers on me as I approach the throne, and as I take my place before it, his lips part as if to speak, but he remains silent. Azazel stands rigid beside me, his nervous glances darting between us.

"The favor I ask of you, Caius, is to release Azazel from his servitude," I declare, my voice ringing through the throne room.

Incensed cries mix with the booming thunder outside, but beneath the commotion, I hear Azazel suck in a shocked breath before he drops to his knees in front of me, shaking his head. "Morte, you can use your magic to do anything," he pleads. “I was going to let you win anyway.”

I silence him with a gentle touch on his cheek, savoring the roughness of his stubble against my skin. "Az, you deserve this," I say with a soft smile.

"She's lost her mind!" someone shouts from the crowd, but I pay them no heed.

I have never agreed to be sane, not in this lifetime, nor the next.

"Morte?" Caius calls out, his voice drawing my attention.

I turn to face him, my eyes meeting his. "Yes?"

"Is this what you really want?" he asks, his expression creased with concern.

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