Page 83 of A Realm of Fire and Ash

"More time for orgasms?" I grin, leaning into his touch.

"Mm," he agrees, nuzzling my neck.

"Time to go, Morte," Aggonid growls, startling me.

I turn to see him standing there, scowling. "Go on, I'll find you when I get back," I prompt, and Az presses his lips to mine.

"Please, be safe," he reminds me before heading off down the hallway.

I take a deep breath, then prepare myself to face the devil.

"You told me I had an hour," I grumble.

"I changed my mind."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MORTE

Romarie

I've never been to the realm of Romarie, mostly on account of it being almost as terrifying as the underworld. Not a single fae from this whole realm is a good person. They lie, cheat, steal, and kill without a second thought. Only sheer power holds the balance in Romarie, and King Valtorious has it.

Irid dresses me in a hurry, her hands shaking. "King Valtorious is a shrewd and cunning king," she says, her voice faltering slightly. "He believes that by forming an alliance with Finn, he can gain an ally who will help him bring down Aggonid and take control of the underworld. Valtorious knows that he can’t do this alone, and he needs the support of other powerful fae rulers to achieve his goal."

I nod, but I can't help but feel suspicious of Irid's words. They don't quite match the worry etched onto her face. "And Finn is considering the offer?" I ask, hoping to gain some insight into the situation.

Irid hesitates for a moment before answering. "He's considering it," she says finally, avoiding my gaze.

I can't help but feel uneasy about the whole situation, and Irid's words only add to my apprehension. Something about the way she speaks of Valtorious doesn't quite sit right with me, and I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this than what Irid is telling me. Finn would never align himself with a power-hungry king, and even if he didn’t like Aggonid, he knows we need the underworld.

I stay silent as she helps me into a long black gown, complete with a floor-length, hooded cloak. Its plunging necklace is far more revealing than anything I wore on Bedlam, but I understand the power dynamic at play. With the gold filigree, I look more like a consort than a prisoner.

Aggonid wants to show off what King Valtorious cannot have. But if I can face the fae devil, Romarie's king should be easy.

Irid pauses in front of me, grabbing my face in her hands. "Here." She swipes them across my eyelids, my cheeks, and then my lips.

"What did you do?"

"Just a little makeup." She grins.

I step around her to check out her work in the mirror, and hardly recognize myself. The protection necklace still sits at my throat, but it's the makeup that draws my attention. It accents my features in a subtle gilded glow, though my lips are as gold as the sun, and Aggonid's crest is painted across my forehead.

I still, studying it. Seeing something so foreign on my skin should be jarring, but instead, it settles something in my chest. My fingers trace the gold lines around the crest, my chin tilting in reverence.

"Ready?" Irid's voice snaps me out of my trance.

"Ready," I agree.

We make our way through the castle and back down the path towards the draw bridge, the sun warming on my face. Irid strides ahead of me, eyes scanning the guard posts even though she can't see their faces on account of the metal helmets with a mohawk of spikes atop them.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for what I'm about to face. As we approach the gates, they open without a word, and I'm led across the narrow suspension bridge where Aggonid waits under an arch of thorns and flames. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back, looking regal despite the simple finery of black and gold adorning him. His eyes flick over me as Irid steps away, taking up a post at the base of the arch.

"Morte," Aggonid purrs, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. "You look beautiful." His fingers trace his emblem on my forehead, his touch searing me with its tenderness. “I really, really like this on you.”

It startles me to hear his voice without contempt in it. He seems to realize it, too, because the corner of his mouth twists up ever so slightly. I force myself to school my expression and bow my head. "Thank you," I reply.

"Come," he says, before gesturing for me to follow him.

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