40. Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

Rayven

We came to a stop in front of a set of imposing doors, guarded on either side by a suit of armor. I recognized them immediately. It was the entrance to the throne room. These doors had been branded onto the backs of my eyelids since the masquerade ball.

The last time I’d been in that hall, I’d learned the truth about Belial being the Lord of Bones and the manipulative game he’d played. After getting my heart cleaved in two, I’d been chained to his throne and dragged across the hall in front of a crowd of masked spectators. Then, I’d met Belial’s brothers.

My heart rate lurched as the memories came flooding back, and I struggled to force air into my lungs. This wasn’t remotely the same thing. So much had changed since the ball, but it didn’t stop the panic sparking through my system.

“Breathe, my treasure,” the Lord of Bones rumbled beside me. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

“My Lord,” squeaked one of the suits of armor before bowing with a rusty groan. The other suit of armor followed suit before they sprang to life and reached for the doorknobs.

I held my breath, feeling lightheaded as the doors slowly opened before me.

After everything I’d been through, it was amazing that I still feared anything at all. I’d seen the worst of what the nine realms had to offer, been tortured and even died, and I’d overcome it all.

Being crowned queen should have been a walk in the park.

Then why did my stomach still knot with anxiety the way it did, icy dread clinging to my spine?

The throne room beyond the doorway was more packed than it had been for the masquerade ball, hundreds of souls crammed into the space, shoulder to shoulder. This time, none of them wore masks, but they were still all elegantly dressed. A wide aisle carved a path down the middle of the room, leading straight to where the throne awaited.

No. Where two thrones waited.

A tiny gasp shoved a breath of relief into my lungs.

To the right of the Lord of Bones’ throne was a second made of bones: my throne. The back of it stretched up and fanned out toward the ceiling, with nine severed heads speared on evenly spaced spikes.

Asmodeus—the rapist, Lord of flesh and suffering.

Vine—the demon who hadn’t lifted so much as a pinky to help me when I’d passed through his realm.

Leviathan—the envious snake demon who locked me in a cage and forced me to dance.

Mammon—the fire demon who tried to make me into his royal meat.

Baal and Paimon—the spider demon and the eyeball monster who showed up in full support of Mammon’s feast.

And Belphegor, the shapeshifter who’d topped all of them in cruelty.

Even from a distance, I knew Belial had repurposed the heads from the oar and placed them on my throne.

A smile tugged at my lips until I dragged my gaze away and scanned the crowded room. Every eye present was zeroed in on me, waiting expectantly.

As Belial’s enormous hand pressed against my lower back, urging me into the throne room, I steeled my nerves.

Maybe it wasn’t the notion of being queen that filled me with anxiety, but the idea of letting down everyone in this room, everyone who would be counting on me to do whatever a queen of Hell did. I thought of all the poor souls trapped in the lower layers of Hell, forced to live out the rest of their existence there. What would become of them? What would become of the souls languishing around Belial’s castle?

I entered the throne room with my heart in my throat, every step closer to the throne making my pulse race faster. The weight of hundreds of eager eyes on me made my skin crawl, but Belial was there, urging me on.

What a great way for my new subjects to see me: my human nerves acting up.

I lifted my chin, donned a confident smile, and marched down the aisle, my eyes locked straight ahead. I shoved all the doubt from my mind.

When I reached the end of the aisle, I paused in front of the River Styx, staring down at the bloody current for a long moment before turning to face the court. Everyone was staring, watching silently, picking me apart with their curious gazes, their attention making my skin itch.

Belial stepped into the river and offered me his hand. He helped me across the current and pulled me out on the other side, a splash of crimson coating the stone beneath my feet as it poured off my dress.

“Your throne,” he said, gesturing with his free hand to the enormous seat before me.

I looked up, my gaze lingering on each of the demon lord heads decorating the top of it. Brutal, bloody, and macabre as fuck, it was dark perfection.

A twist of rage and satisfaction swirled through me upon seeing them, each speared on a bone pike forevermore. I took comfort in knowing they would forever pay for their transgressions. Even in death, they would serve me as adornments on my throne.

Served them fucking right.

Fingers tingling and heart fluttering, I cautiously took a seat on the new throne. It was so silent in the hall that I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, anxiety burning its way through me.

The Lord of Bones tore his attention from me to look over his subjects, his burning glare dragging slowly through the room.

“You’ve been summoned to witness the crowning of Limbo’s very first—and last—queen,” his growly voice thundered through the hall.

He continued with his speech, his address to our subjects firm and absolute.

With a wave of his hand, he produced the crown of bones he’d fashioned from Mark’s spine. The image haunted my thoughts—not to mention, it looked uncomfortable as fuck. But since the last time I’d seen it, it seemed Belial had set some gems into it that glimmered a deep, bloody red in the light.

It was a gothic queen’s wet dream.

I met the Lord of Bones’ gaze, sitting up straighter on my throne as he moved to place the crown on my head. It fit perfectly, feeling much heavier than it actually was.

“She is your queen. Any act against her is an act against me and will be handled accordingly,” the Lord of Bones growled, a warning to anyone foolish enough to try anything stupid like his brothers had.

I blinked out over the crowd, the breath hitching in my chest when they began to kneel. I picked out Cecil and Holga standing in the back, and the sight of them had the tension in my chest ebbing some.

Starting with the front row, they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in fealty, and the rest of the room soon followed. An invisible hand tugged at my heartstrings again, the same way it had in Asmodeus’ throne room when the souls bowed to me.

Every being in the hall knelt to honor their new queen, and I flashed a nervous glance in Belial’s direction. He tipped his head slowly, staying there for a beat before taking a seat on his own throne.

His enormous hands clutched the armrests, the blue flames roaring in his eye sockets as a twisted crown of bones appeared on his head. He was a vision of darkness and power, a cruel king who’d also shown more compassion than I thought him capable of.

Fuck, he was so goddamn sexy.

So sexy, and all fucking mine.

“Long live the Lord of Bones,” the crowd chanted together. “Long live the Queen of Carrion.”

We sat there for a moment that seemed to drag on forever. I had no idea what to do next, what was expected of me. Was I supposed to make a speech? Did they expect me to put on a show? Entertain them? Behead someone?

Skeptically, I cast another glance in Belial’s direction, and I heated when I found him looking back at me.

“What is your first decree?” he asked, stirring something primal in me. I wanted him to order away all these souls and have his way with me right here and now.

“Send them away.”

A dark chuckle escaped his maw, his black, forked tongue slipping out to paint a lick over his lipless mouth.

“Leave. All of you. Now,” he said abruptly, his voice booming in the silent room. It was so abrupt, so informal, but this was the Lord of Death we were talking about here. He was right. He could do whatever he damn well pleased.

Waiting for them all to file out of the throne room was agonizing, but I sat perfectly still, chin raised regally like I imagined a queen would. Truthfully, I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. Belial ruled so effortlessly, comfortable in his role and the power he held.

For me, not so much. It was like I was trying to ride a motorcycle when I’d never even been on a bike.

I swallowed hard, watching his—our—subjects trickle out of the throne room. When they were all gone, Belial ordered the doors to be closed.

Finally, we were completely alone. My skin burned hot, and the apex of my thighs tingled with the sensation sinking through my core.

I knew what came next.

“Come here,” he demanded, and I rose from my throne at the order. He ushered me over to stand before him as his head canted to one side, his great set of horns tipping with his skull.

“You are stunning,” he said, his gaze falling down my body before creeping its way back up. “A vision in red. Royalty fits you, my queen.”

I couldn’t fight the smile winding its way across my face.

“I told you I’d get you out of that dress.” He leaned forward on his throne. “I’d carry you up to our bedroom, but your Lord can’t be made to wait.”

“Here?” I flashed a nervous glance around the empty hall.

A dark chuckle escaped his maw. “Of course. I told you I would fuck you on my throne before everything was said and done. But first, I want to see you in nothing but your crown.”

I followed his instructions, turning around so he could unlace the corset of my gown, and I let the fabric fall to the floor at my feet. Nude aside from my bone crown, I gave him a twirl, reveling in the feral noise that clawed up his throat.

He stood, towering over me, and guided me to sit on his throne.

Then, in a twist I didn’t see coming, he knelt before me.

“As the queen of Limbo, your enemies will kneel before you in terror. Your loyal subjects will kneel in fealty, and your king will kneel before you in unholy reverence.”

His tongue slithered over his teeth, wriggling in a way that let me know he was giving me a preview of what was to come.

“Now, spread your legs for your king and let me worship you.”