Chapter 132

Anton, Laila and I slowly cross the wasteland outside Death’s palace.

Light from all three moons beam down upon us, almost like they gathered to watch. I glance up, my eyes catching on the crescent moon, which was always my favorite. I grin, knowing now why, considering who and what it signifies.

I glance to the right at my boy, who walks there. Except now he’s not a boy, is he?

No, Anton has shifted into his wolf and pads gigantic at my side, all blue and lovely. I reach out a hand, rushing it over his fur, and my boy glances down at me, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.

I smile back, looking up at Laila who rides high on his shoulders, pleased with the way that the breeze I’ve conjured up blows back her blue-green hair, tosses the long silk strands of her dress back behind her. She looks…incredible. Like a dream.

Sensing my gaze, Laila glances down at me and gives me an eager grin.

I laugh a little, turning my eyes back to Death’s palace and striding ahead a little.

My own gown streams out behind me – long, long bolts of diaphanous fabric cascading out in the wind, all the gorgeous folds of my gown spreading out in weightless smoky curls on the breeze, like ink in water.

The fabric itself is pinned to my body by string after string of black diamonds draped all down my front, intricately connected with tiny silver chains. The whole effect is that of incredibly delicate, prismatic chainmail – a Queen on her way to war.

Anton had suggested true armor, wanting me to be safe.

But we decided against it. Because I don’t need that.

I am the armor.

I am the weapon.

I grin, eager and a little reckless, my eyes fastened on the palace before us, eager for what’s to come. Eager to end this. My wolf howls in my heart, her teeth bared, her hackles raised.

Bite, bite, she says, snapping her teeth. Now he will get what is coming to him.

We move silently through the wastes, not bothering to talk. We don’t need to, after all. My hand drifts up to the little rose-gold crown perched on my head, wanting to ensure that it’s straight. Laila had recommended something more elaborate, or at least something silver to match the gown.

But no, this crown is a replica of the one my mother gave me. The only one that feels right. Even if I am confident, I want a little piece of her with me today. Her courage, her grace, her strength and her joy. I hope, sincerely, that I can embody the Queen she is as, today, I take my own throne.

Another one of those pulses booms out from the Palace – that call to war, letting us know that we’ve been spotted. My power hums beneath my skin, responding to it, and Anton and I simultaneously pick up our pace.

We draw closer and my eyes shift down from the towers of the Palace to the ground before it, where I’m a little surprised to see another one of Death’s platforms built. I frown, narrowing my eyes, wanting to see more of the details. It reminds me again of all we endured in the Games – all of the little trials he planned for us, back when we were both convinced that I was under his control.

My smile deepens and I bare my teeth. Because it’s not a game now, is it?

And he is not in control, even if he pretends to be.

As we approach, the details start to make themselves clear and my wolf growls to see that Death has not gathered an army, as I perhaps expected.

No, instead he’s decorated his platform with gorgeous bouquets of black roses, heaps of silvery-green garland wreathed on every surface to create a scene as elaborate as it is dark. The girls – all of the contestants in his horrible Game – stand in a line at the black of the platform, all dressed in blood-red gowns.

“Bait,” Laila murmurs, glancing down at me. Tony growls his agreement.

I look between both of them and nod, knowing that Death is up to something. That he’s gathered all these girls for my sake, knowing whatever he does to them will have some effect on me. I steel myself, preparing for whatever comes ahead, reminding myself that I’ve got everything I need in the power rushing through my veins.

A small group of courtiers stand anxiously on the platform as well, all dressed in slate grey, all anxiously watching my approach. I frown, thinking that it’s a more select group than I’ve seen before.

But…why? Why bring them at all to a battle? What is it he wants them to witness?

“Welcome!” Death’s voice booms out over the wastes as we come close enough to see everyone’s faces. My eyes lock on him, standing at the center of the platform. Orion stands slightly before him and to his right. Beatrice, of all people, stands across from Orion in an elaborate black gown. In her hands is a wide bouquet of red, red roses.

I frown, coming to a stop about twenty feet away, still not understanding what I’m looking at. But I don’t let it rattle me, as I’m sure Death intends. Anton stops at my side. I can feel his low growl as well as hear it, rumbling through the air by my side.

“It is so good of you to come,” Death says, baring his teeth as he gives me a horrible grin. “After all, my son should have another wolf at his wedding. It’s only proper.”

I raise my chin, surprised and not bothering to hide it. “You called me to war, Death,” I call out, letting my voice carry magically through the air so that all can hear it. After all, I’ve got nothing to hide. “And now you’re telling me it’s a party? I’d have worn something else if I knew it was going to be a celebration.”

Death laughs, low and vicious, shaking his head at me. “Oh, the battle will come soon enough, girl,” he says. He cocks his head to the side, taking me in, as well as Anton and Laila by my side. “But what a pretty spectacle you have made in your arrival. Truly, Juniper Sinclair, you would make a fine bride if only you could have kept your mouth shut and stay in line.”

“Oh,” I say, pretending to give a dissatisfied pout. “But those are my lest favorite activities. So, I’m going to have to pass on that.”

My eyes move to Orion, studying him, wondering at his place in all of this. But it only takes a moment to notice the iron ring around his neck, the cuffs around his wrists and ankles. The metal looks finely, almost delicately wrought, but it doesn’t take much guessing to understand that it’s held in place by Death’s power.

Orion looks at me with worried eyes, his jaw clenched shut. He leans forward, a muffled sound pressing at his lips. Death snaps his eyes to him, snarling and yanking Orion back towards him. Orion moans in pain and I hear Anton’s growl grow in its ferocity.

That’s his cousin, after all. And we Sinclairs know how important cousins can be.

I move on, wanting to get all this chat over with, wanting Death to show his cards. “So, is this your chosen bride?” I ask, my eyes moving to Beatrice with not a little distaste.

The blonde raises her chin at me, a wicked gleam in her eyes. I sneer at her, seeing now that she was always Death’s little pawn. She chased after me after the second trial to get in with my good graces and spy on me. She declared herself Anton’s mate as an attempt to separate me from my handmaiden, to make me weak.

“Yes,” Death says, reaching out a hand to stroke over Beatrice’s hair. “Beatrice has demonstrated herself to be an obedient, faithful woman. She will make an excellent Queen.” She leans into the touch, turning adoring eyes to her God.

I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth, disgusted and a little nauseous at the sight of them. “Shame,” I call out, speaking my mind as the thoughts come into it. “She always struck me as a bit of a weak-willed pup. Not an ounce of backbone in that one.”

Beatrice whips her head to me with a snarl, narrowing her eyes.

I grin at her, snapping out an invisible line of my power to smack her sharp on the nose.

She yelps, jumping back a step, frightened.

“That’s for claiming my handmade as your mate,” I snarl, eyes locked on her. “I’d suggest you step down from all of this, Beatrice. You’re not made for this fight and you will pay for your continued betrayal.”

She lifts her chin at me again, rubbing at her nose. “Soon I will be Queen and you will be my prisoner, Juniper!”

I move my eyes back to Death, not bothering to address her any further. I’m finished giving her warnings and she’s very clearly chosen her side.

“So,” I call out, addressing the God now alone. “You just thought, ‘prophecies be damned! I’ll just pick whichever girl is most weak-willed for my son, instead of actually trying to find his mate’?”

“On the contrary,” Death calls back, uncurling his hand to the side and making several priests in grey robes appear there. They look around, looking shocked and frightened. “My scholars assure me that Beatrice is Orion’s mate. It is written in the stars. She has passed all the trials.”

A disbelieving laugh stumbles across my lips as I look first at the priests, who look very doubtful and hesitant as they nod their agreement with Death, and then over at Orion. Orion rolls his eyes at me, quite subtle, letting me know that it’s far, far from true.

“Fine,” I say on a sigh, waving a hand, shifting my weight casually to one hip like I’m bored. “Proceed with your little wedding, if you wish. After all, if these theatrics are important to you, Death, then you should indulge yourself.”

“Oh, happily,” he growls, his chin dipping low as he stares at me, voracious and cruel. “But first…our future Queen is missing one of her bridesmaids.”

He snaps his eyes up to Laila, who gasps as some power yanks her from Anton’s back and starts to drag her across the waste. She screams, reaching for me. I shout her name, reaching for her too, starting to give chase.