Lord of Embers(The Demon Queen Trials #2)(62)

Smoke billowed around me from a flaming chair at my side. Alarm bells clanged loudly in the city, a cacophony of noise and chaos.

Of course—Tammuz would be delighted with this anarchy.

“What’s different between me and Mortana? Unlike her, I’m loyal.” I turned, grabbed the flaming chair, and hurled it at him. He blocked it, but his dark clothes caught fire. Flames rose around him, gilding his features. He patted out the flames, trying to salvage what was left of his clothes.

“You’re loyal? Doesn’t look that way to me.” His shirt had burned almost completely away, leaving black rags draped over his thickly muscled chest.

Another distraction Tammuz hadn’t prepared me for.

“Not loyal to you,” I said. “You’ve been telling me quite consistently how much you hate me. No, sorry. You don’t respect me enough to hate me because I’m

and talentless. Why would you expect me to be borin g

loyal to you?”

My temper soared.

I was done being pushed around, and I didn’t have to take it anymore. I lunged at him, punching him hard in the jaw with a loud crack of bone. The force of the blow dazed him for a moment, and I kicked him the chest. He slammed back into a hot stone wall, and it cracked behind him. Before he could recover, I shifted, aiming my next kick at his head, but his hand shot out and he grabbed my right ankle with shocking speed.

His dark eyes glinted, and the mark of Lucifer shone from his head.

Was it just me, or was he enjoying himself a little, holding my ankle in his steely grip at his shoulder?

I let my wings burst open, lifting me into the air, and slammed my other foot into his head. His skull shot back into the wall, but as I retracted my wings and landed, he charged me, knocking me flat on my back. He moved to leap on top of me, but I lifted my legs, trapping his throat between my thighs. I squeezed hard, but he lifted me up from under my ass.

Spinning around, he slammed me down again on the burning bed.

Fire engulfed us. I didn’t feel a thing apart from Orion’s waist between my thighs.

He tried to pin me down by the wrists, but before he got a good grip, I smashed my left elbow into his temple, then smacked him on the other side with my right, knocking him off me and onto the burning floor.

I landed on top of him, straddling his waist. Now was the time to act. I drew out my claws— He trapped my wrists, and we strained against each other, his fierce, shadowy gaze locked on mine. “Am I about to die, just as I started to live again?” he asked.

I had no idea what that meant. Getting in my head again.

And what would happen if I got my hands free? Could I really end Orion’s life?

I was pretty sure he could have ended mine on the bed if he’d simply swiped for my heart instead of grabbing me by the wrists.

That gave me pause.

Sweat rolled down my temples.

I brought my forehead down, breaking his nose. He dropped my wrists, and I brought out my long silver claws.

I slashed for him.





C H A P T E R 3 3 — R O W A N

W hen it came down to it, I couldn’t kill Orion, so I settled for slashing his throat with my claws instead. His blood pumped over the black and white mosaic, and I leapt off him. I didn’t know how long it would take for him to recover, but I wasn’t going to wait around to find out.

With a pounding heart, I crossed over to the unconscious king. The smoke from the fires had started to fill my lungs and sting my eyes.

Coughing, I bent down and scooped up Cambriel. The knife still jutted from his heart, and his mouth gaped open, blood streaking down his chest.

Holding his limp body in my arms, I ran out on the balcony, blinking in the bright morning sun. In the sweet, fresh air, I inhaled deeply, clearing my eyes of smoke and sweat.

My wings shot out of my shoulders, and the wind rushed over them. Beneath me, the army swarmed, tiny as ants.

I flew off the balcony and into the honey-rose sky, soaring above the dawn-kissed demon city. Beneath me, soldiers were scrambling, still bound by their oaths to protect their living king. But soon, they would pledge their loyalty to me. I wanted them to see what was about to happen to their false king, the charlatan on the throne.

I

wanted to kill him in front of my parents’ house. Poetic, but really

not the best strategy. It was too far, and I’d have to wait for the army to catch up. I wasn’t going to waste another moment.

I streaked toward the sandy stones of the Luciferian ward, not far from the tower, unleashing a stream of fire as I raced toward the earth.

Total chaos ensued, disrupting the arrows that might come for me. As I drew closer, I cleared a space on the amber stones with tongues of fire.

I landed hard on the stones but managed to steady myself. The Acheron River flowed behind me. In real time, it wasn’t that long ago that I’d been sitting at a nearby restaurant eating pasta, convinced I was mortal. Not long ago, I’d passed the initiation in the wilderness, using fox piss, deodorant, and lighters to save my own life.

Firmly on solid earth once more, I looked up to see the demon army charging me, stones rumbling at the horde’s approach. I had to protect myself before they ripped me to pieces.

I surrounded the prostrate king and myself with a circle of flames, watching the army halt on the other side. This was it. I didn’t have long.

“Only the true heir can slaughter a king,” I shouted. “I am here to prove to you that I am your queen.”