Cast in Hellfire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 2) (20 page)

“Even if you’ve left the past behind, there’s still a future,” he said.

Marion swayed. “What rests in my future? Political marriage?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Konig wants me to marry him,” she said. “It would give us an avenue to protect the Winter Court from the angels. That would be the end of my life as surely as that door.”

“You love Konig,” Seth said.

“I do,” Marion agreed. The way that she looked at him might as well have been a very distinct “but,” suggesting so many more things to be said.

But
Marion didn’t want to marry for politics.

But
she wasn’t certain she wanted to be with Konig.

He took another step.

Marion did, too.

She was only inches from the door now—inches from abandoning a tumultuous, confusing life that had been foisted upon her by gods who didn’t care about what she wanted.

“Don’t go in there,” Seth said. “I can still save you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I won’t ever know if you don’t let me try.”

Marion wavered again. “Seth…” She shook her head. Her ghostly hair swam around her shoulders as though she were one of the bodies submerged in Mnemosyne. “I know your secret, Seth. I know that you’ve been thinking about killing me. And you’re so noble, such a hero, that you’ve been fighting against it although you don’t even like me. Once this is over, you won’t need to fight anymore.”

Seth stared at her. “I like you.”

“Do you?” she asked. “
Really
?”

God, how was he supposed to respond to that?

Charity was lurking in the back of his mind.
Tell her the truth
. That was what the revenant had been urging the entire time, and Seth had continually resisted. The truth was too much.

Now they were on the threshold of a doorway into death.

There was no more damage for the truth to do to Seth or Marion.

“I care about you a lot more than I should,” he said carefully. “You said that there’s something between us…and you were right, Marion. I’ve felt it, too.”

“A connection,” she said.

Seth clenched his hands into fists. “Chemistry.”

Her whited-out eyes shimmered. She flickered where she stood. “What are you saying?”

Being careful wasn’t enough. The door was still dragging her closer. Even though she hadn’t taken a single step, she was inches nearer the threshold than she had been moments earlier.

Marion was still dying.

“I’m not ready for you to leave.” Seth drew in a long breath—or what would have been a breath if the two of them hadn’t been spirits wandering through a Dead Forest that was more metaphor than physical. “Don’t leave, Marion. Please.”

He held his hand out, and he waited.

The truth was that Seth wouldn’t have fought to protect her so hard if he didn’t like her.

A lot more than like her, actually.

Seth felt things for Marion that he hadn’t let himself feel in years—and certainly not toward
her
. The half-sister of the god who’d ruined his life, and also happened to have a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. He’d sworn off fighting over women. He’d sworn off women altogether.

But most women weren’t Marion.

“Please,” Seth said again.

She stepped away from the door. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Her fingers settled against his.

There were no boundaries left between them. Not skin or bone or magic.

Seth and Marion were one, mind and voice.

The forest blurred around them as he pulled her toward him. The doorway flickered.

He saw nothing but Marion, stripped of all her power and pretense. She was nothing but a woman. Magical, powerful, fiery, and entirely mortal in spirit. Her arrogance was merely a feature. It didn’t conceal the compassion at her core.

Seth
would
ensure she survived. Whatever that took.

“Stay with me,” he said, drawing her toward their bodies on the banks of Mnemosyne. “Don’t let go.”

Marion surrendered. They drifted.

Nyx was waiting beside their physical forms, faded away to nothing but a scrap of herself. There was a door waiting for her, too. “You shouldn’t be capable of sparing the girl. It isn’t possible.”

“Then watch me do the impossible,” Seth said, tugging Marion toward her body.

“But the gods have said—”

“Screw the gods,” he said forcefully.

Marion nestled against his chest, head bowed to his heart. “Let’s go back.”

They folded into their bodies.

For the first time in minutes—eons—both of them inhaled.

“
W
ell
, well, well. Look at what we have
here
.”

The angel Suzume hopped over the counter in the Winter Court’s meeting room. She had absolutely none of the usual grace of an angel; she flopped over, head down and butt up, and grabbed alcohol from the bottommost shelf.

She hopped back to her feet with a triumphant smile.

“Pixie vodka, Jibril!” She shook the bottle. “When’s the last time you had some of this tasty stuff?”

Jibril folded his arms, his face immobile even as he radiated palpable disapproval. “Yes. Pixie vodka. With pixies who have been trapped for a good five years.”

“Or more,” Suzume said. She uncorked the bottle with a thumb and took a long swig. Then she wiped her hand over the back of her mouth. “Ahh. That’s the stuff!
Now
we can talk politics.” Suzume rounded on Nori. “Where’s the steward this time?”

Nori backed away, swallowing hard. “Um.”

She hadn’t been expecting to explain Marion’s absence to the angels yet again. When she’d returned Marion to Sheol with promises that she could handle “everything,” her thoughts had been primarily oriented on distracting Konig, not on the politics that might unravel in Marion’s absence.

Except that Nori had extended an olive branch to the angels after the last disastrous meeting, assuring them that they would have Marion’s attention if they came again.

And when Nori had returned to the Winter Court, she had found that guests were waiting for her.

Jibril and Suzume had come back to mend fences with Marion.

The problem was that Marion was gone.

Again.

It was harder to tell with Suzume, but even the good-natured angel was starting to look annoyed.

“Here’s the thing,” Nori said. “Marion’s had a lead on her memories, so she’s trying to get them back. She simply could not wait to resolve that issue.” There. That was a perfectly good explanation for her absence. As long as Nori didn’t explain that other people were fully capable of retrieving Marion’s memories, then it would be fine.

Jibril’s expression didn’t change, though. “Her memories seemed to be perfectly intact at the summit. She was collected enough to ensure our race didn’t get the Winter Court.”

“It was momentary,” Nori said.

Jibril laughed bitterly. “How convenient. I’m supposed to believe this nonsense?”

“You know, it’s funny,” Suzume said, walking around the meeting room with the vodka bottle. She was tiny in comparison to the oversized ice sculptures twisting across the walls and arching over the ceiling. “Jibril came back to me the other day and he said, ‘Suzy, I think we’re going to war.’ And I said to him, I said, ‘No way, that’ll never happen. Marion’s going to find a way around it. Let me talk to her so I can fix things.’” She turned to face Nori, framed by a sheet of ice. “But Marion’s still not here. Maybe Jibril wasn’t wrong.”

“He
was
wrong,” Nori said. “We’re working on a way to handle the alliance on the sidhe end. All you need to worry about is making sure that Leliel isn’t a problem, and we’ll have nesting space for the angels in no time.”

“Leliel! Ha ha.” Suzume rolled her eyes dramatically. “Yeah,
Leliel
is totally the problem.”

Nori struggled for words. “It’s not Marion’s fault.”

“I’m not interested in assigning blame,” Jibril said. “If I were, though, I’d be inclined to agree with you, daughter of Azazel. This isn’t Marion’s fault.” Nori only had an instant to feel relief before he stalked toward her, wings snapping wide at his back. “It’s yours. We assigned you to smooth relations between sidhe and angel, not ruin them.”

There was no way he could know what she’d done with Konig. “But—”

“There has been nothing but tumult since we gave your assignment to you. You’re utterly incapable of performing the smallest diplomatic tasks.” Jibril shook his fists at her. “Don’t you realize
the stakes we’re dealing with? The death of our
entire species?
”

“Of course I do,” Nori said.

“Don’t speak to me,” he growled.

Jibril vanished.

In his absence, there was nothing but silence.

Nori’s anxieties rushed to fill the void.

She hadn’t had a clue that the angels were planning to visit again. If she’d known, she could have facilitated a meeting with at least Konig, if not Marion.

No. Nothing she’d done could have kept Marion in the Winter Court.

Maybe they were right. Maybe this was all her fault.

“This is it, isn’t it?” she asked dully, numb from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. “This is what will initiate war.”

“This vodka’s not right for my mood. I need beer,” Suzume said.

How could she think of alcohol at a time like this? “Shouldn’t you get back to Dilmun before we start fighting?”

Suzume rolled her eyes. “Chill out. The death of our species isn’t worth this much drama.”

“But war,” Nori whispered.

“There’s not going to be any goddamn war.” Suzume plopped onto the edge of the bar and reached over to scoop another bottle from behind it. “You’ve been to Dilmun. You’ve seen how empty it is. There’s like, three and a half of us.”

In fact, there were twenty-eight angels who drifted in and out of the capital city of the Ethereal Levant. And that counted Nori, who was only half-blooded and served as a go-between for the angels and the sidhe.

“So what?” Nori asked.

“So there’s no chance we’d survive war against four fucking courts in the Middle Worlds,” Suzume said.

“Leliel said—”

“She’s suicidal. I’m not. I’m immortal! I’d rather live alone for eternity than kill myself swinging my dick around trying to teach people a lesson.” The angel emptied a beer bottle into her frosted glass. “If anyone goes to war, it will be Leliel alone. She’ll drop dead and the rest of us will die peacefully one by one in the centuries to come.”

Nori hadn’t been drinking, but her head was still buzzing as if she’d been tossing back shots for hours.

The threats of war from the angels had been little more than grandstanding. Jibril was angry, but not angry enough to kill himself. Leliel was probably serious about attacking, but she had no backing.

War wasn’t going to happen.

Most importantly, Konig didn’t need to wed Marion to forge an alliance with the EL.

“If Leliel attacks again, you know everyone’s going to take that as an act of war from all of us,” Nori said. “Rylie Gresham in particular won’t take that well. She could have President Peterson punch in the nuclear codes and flatten Dilmun.”

“It won’t happen,” Suzume said.

“You sound confident.”

“Hell yeah I do. Jibril will calm down. He’s cool. And once he’s levelheaded, the two of us will take care of Leliel. Like I said, I plan on living a long goddamn time.”

Suzume tossed her head back, and her throat worked as she swallowed the alcohol down. Her eyes were watering when she dropped the glass.

“It sucks, getting to be an angel in Genesis only to watch my species die off,” Suzume said. “Whatever. I’m going back to Dilmun. We’ve got the strong stuff there.
Way
better than pixie vodka. Wanna come?”

Nori shook her head numbly.

“Suit yourself,” Suzume said.

The angel’s wings extended. Her wingspan was impressive for a woman of her size—broader even than that of Leliel or Jibril—and her wings shone with even more light.

Suzume took off through one of the ballroom’s open windows.

She vanished.

Nori tossed the empty beer bottle into the recycling bin, and then put the glass into the sink. She was still numb when she walked through the hallways of Niflheimr to search for Konig.

He was in the south wing, with the refugees. At present, he was talking with Cyprian, the unseelie sidhe who had been helping Nori figure out the wards. They seemed to be arguing rather intensely about how to best protect Niflheimr from assault.

Konig’s violet eyes brightened when he spotted Nori’s approach.

“Excuse me,” he said.

Cyprian nodded, taking the stairs down to the courtyard, where the other refugees were waiting.

Nori joined Konig on the mezzanine.

“The ethereal delegation was here,” Nori said.

His face fell. “Why didn’t you get me?”

“There wasn’t time.” She swallowed hard. “When Marion didn’t show up—”

“Where’s Marion?”

Nori clenched her fists so hard that her fingernails bit into her palms. “She didn’t come.” Let Konig infer that Marion was still locked in her bedroom, throwing a temper tantrum.

“Gods,” Konig breathed.

“Jibril was pissed, but Suzume said there’s no chance we’ll go to war over this. Only Leliel’s crazy enough to pick a fight with the sidhe over nesting space in the Winter Court. And the angels aren’t going to let her do it.” Nori’s heart beat faster as she spoke, until she felt like she was on the brink of giggling. “You don’t have to worry about an alliance with the angels. You and Marion don’t have to get married!”

She’d expected that to be like dropping a bomb on Konig. Certainly, hearing it from Suzume had felt like that for Marion.

But the prince’s face didn’t change.

“I still want to get married to Marion,” Konig said.

Nori struggled for words. The only thing she could manage to ask was, “Why?”

“I love her. You know that.” He took her hands. “Nori, precious, I’m not going to wait for my immortal parents to die before becoming king. I’m going to have an extraordinary queen like Marion, who is truly one of a kind. And I’m going to cement one hell of a legacy.” He shrugged. “‘Father of a new ethereal race’ sounds like a great note in the history books.”

Distilling Marion’s significance to a novelty—a highlight in the memoirs he imagined writing—stung almost as much as the realization that nothing would change. That Nori wasn’t going to be with Konig. At least, not publicly. Not the way that she wanted.

And he wasn’t going to let everything with the angels slide, either.

She stared at him wonderingly. This whole time, she’d believed Konig was struggling to perform damage control, when he’d really been playing a longer game. He had never feared war with the angels. He’d wanted to use them.

It was frightening.

And a little sexy.

“Think of it,” he said softly. His knuckles stroked down her cheek. “Think of how much influence I’ll have as a king who’s restoring the ethereal race against all odds. And think of how much influence my advisors will have. Think of what this could do for
you
.”

Nori couldn’t stop shaking, and she didn’t think it was the cold.

But she did think of it.

It would have been hard not to.

Konig couldn’t become King of the Autumn Court until his parents stepped aside or died, and an ethereal Gray like Nori couldn’t have any power in the Ethereal Levant on her own, either.

If they worked together, on the other hand…

A whole race. They could remake angels together, from a mere two-dozen to a booming species that would owe everything they had to the likes of Konig—and Nori, at his side.

Her trembling subsided. She took a few deep breaths.

“I see,” she said.

Konig tugged her against him. His lips were cold when they kissed. Very, very cold. “I knew you would,” he murmured.

W
hen Charity used
Marion’s statuette, it felt like she had been squeezed through a meat grinder. It hurt so much that she couldn’t help but cry out.

Then she appeared in the Winter Court.

She tumbled to the ground on a bed of moss, which grew inside a bedroom that was otherwise carved of ice. It was obviously sidhe magic allowing there to be spring among winter, and so it was no surprise to realize that it was Marion’s bedroom—an unusual home for an unusual leader. Everything reeked of the mage girl, from the woody scent of her skin lingering in the air to the gold-trimmed contact lens case on the vanity.

Charity leaped to her feet, tossed the statuette aside, and burst from the room.

The hallway outside was empty.

Konig. Nori. I need to find them
.

Marion’s plea rattled within her mind.

Her glasses bounced on her chest, the arm still tucked into the neck of her shirt. She could have donned her glamour in order to make sure she’d look less alarming to the residents of the Winter Court. But there was no time for that. She couldn’t waste a moment before finding the assistance that Marion so desperately needed.

Seth and Marion were trapped in Sheol with the Canope, and Charity needed to find the unseelie prince.

She ran down the hall to the throne room. It was freezing cold in the Winter Court—cold enough that the temperature burrowed its way into her revenant flesh. The throne room was no exception to that.

Disoriented, confused, Charity spun within the center of the empty hall, searching for signs of life.

“Konig?” she called.

Nobody responded. A mirror glowed faintly, dully, from the corner. The liquid light it poured was the only motion within the walls.

Voices echoed from the opposite side of the room.

Charity ran toward the other hallway.

“Konig?”

She exploded onto a mezzanine overlooking a courtyard. It was filled with tents, cots, and people, who Charity assumed must have been unseelie sidhe. It was strange to see so many of them milling in a single area. She’d assumed that the Winter Court would be empty after the civil wars that had wracked the plane for the last several years. They must have been refugees.

Prince ErlKonig stood on the other end of the mezzanine. Charity almost approached him until she realized what he was doing.

His arms were wrapped around Nori—delicate Nori with her straw-colored hair chopped to jaw length, who passed for a sidhe far better than she did an ethereal Gray. And Nori was wrapped around him, too. They were tangled up in each other in a way that could never be construed as anything but sexual.

Konig lifted his lips from Nori’s. His eyes locked on to Charity, and his nose wrinkled with disgust at the sight of her revenant form, too ugly to stand among the stark beauty of Niflheimr.