Trailed by a disgruntled guardian demon and a sleepy guardian angel, Stephanie walked through the castle to the dungeons where four of her half-brothers had been imprisoned by their father. She visited once a week, sometimes twice, and had never grown accustomed to the musty smell, lack of sunlight and the narrow hallways made up of uneven stone blocks.
But her brothers were the only family she could speak to openly, and they’d made an attempt to do the right thing several weeks before, when they united to challenge their tyrant of a father for power over the Immortal society. They didn’t deserve to be imprisoned any more than she deserved to be isolated from her mother and sister as punishment for her involvement in the plot to usurp the tyrannical Wynn.
The more time she spent with her brothers, the more she began to understand each one – and the depth of dysfunction of her family. Coupled with their brutal upbringings, resentment built over the course of their Immortal lifespans helped create the perfect environment for fights, passive aggressiveness, competitiveness and the occasional sentencing of one another to Hell, prison or exile. The dynamics of their relationships with one another were worse than any soap opera or reality television show she’d ever seen.
What amazed her most: each of them was a genius in his own unique right and possessed skills that could have changed the world for the better, had they chosen to use them for that purpose.
“Most likely to become a drug lord,” she said. Uneasy in the catacombs, she had started a game with Trayern, her guard demon. Bored and hungry, the demon sometimes humored her.
“Kris,” Trayern answered. “Most likely to become a serial killer.”
“Also Kris,” Stephanie replied.
“Nope. Kiki.”
“How so?”
“Kris doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. Kiki is the most likely to snap, and he’s careful and calculating enough to pull it off.”
Stephanie absorbed the information. The demon and his ilk had been studying her brothers for thousands of years. That he knew them better than she did bothered her, and she’d chosen to learn from him instead of resent him.
“Most likely to survive a nuclear holocaust,” she said.
“Kris. Most likely to cause a nuclear holocaust.”
“Rhyn.” When Trayern didn’t correct her, she paused to think. “Most likely to end world hunger.”
“Tamer.”
“Really?” she glanced over her shoulder.
Trayern rolled his eyes. “No, half-breed. Andre. Most likely to sell his brothers out for power.”
“Wow. That’s a tie,” she murmured. “Kris and … Sasha.” She’d never met Sasha, her dead-dead brother who had sided with the Dark One.
“Yep,” Trayern confirmed. “Most likely to create a charity. Not Andre.”
Stephanie was pensive. “Kiki?”
“Tamer.”
“No way. He’s a total jerk.”
“He’s all smoke, no fire.”
“I know you’ve been studying my family for years, but I don’t buy that one,” she said.
“Ask him. He’s already set one up.”
She grimaced. “Most likely to kill anyone who threatens his family.”
“Rhyn and Wynn,” the demon responded. “Most likely to become a science genius.”
“Kiki.”
“And Kris. Different fields. Kris preferred medical experimentation. Kiki would discover some new quantum mechanics equation.”
Stephanie stopped and faced the demon, whose eyes were on the guards they passed.
“You’re a demon. How the hell do you know anything about quantum mechanics?” she questioned, perplexed.
“Most likely to underestimate her enemies and wind up dead,” he replied sarcastically.
She frowned and began walking once more. “If you’re so smart, answer this one. Most likely to lead the Council. And it can’t be Wynn.”
Trayern didn’t hesitate. “You.”
“No way.”
“Why else do you think Darkyn assigned his top lieutenant to you? Any fuckhead can handle a protection detail.”
“Explain your answer better,” she directed him. “Why would you choose me over Kris?”
“Kris has lost the support of your people. Rhyn caused the second breach between Hell and this plane to open. Kiki has never been a contender, and Tamer doesn’t want the responsibility.”
“What about Erik?” she asked, referring to the other dead brother she’d never met.
“Recluse. No ability or desire to lead.”
“Me by default.”
“You’re an unknown.”
His words sent a chill through her. “Which is why Darkyn sent his most trusted lieutenant to figure me out so you can build a profile on me like you did everyone else in the family.”
“Slow witted. Better make a note in your fucking file.” Trayern never bothered to hide his sarcasm.
“If you’re right, I’m going to order you confined to prison for all eternity,” she shot back.
“You don’t have the guts, half-breed,” he replied. “Most likely to win, if the four of them were in a battle.”
“I’m tired of playing.”
Trayern gripped the back of her neck, a reminder of what he was.
“Rhyn,” she guessed.
“Wrong. Kris.” He released her, and they continued down the corridor.
“Explain.”
“He’d attack when the others were weak, probably sleeping or otherwise vulnerable. Rhyn has the power but he won’t hurt his own.”
“Where do I rank in that scenario?” she asked.
“You’d be the first one to die-dead.”
She fell into silence, tired of their game and puzzled by the idea Darkyn and his lieutenant would single her out as the most likely to succeed Wynn. Her own father had inferred being a half-breed mated to Fate would make her untrustworthy in the eyes of their people.
Except … this wasn’t the first time she’d heard Trayern’s claim. Her mate had said only she could keep the Immortal society together, and she had to prevent the Immortals from falling into a civil war that would destroy them. To effectively stop an insurgency, she had to be in a position of power.
Thrown into a world she didn’t know existed months before, Stephanie was starting to feel as if she was regaining her balance. She had spent her down time mulling over how she could help the Immortal society and how, if possible, she could influence her family to work together, or simply get along, without resorting to their methods to ensure cooperation. She was too honest to participate in the kind of manipulation or intimidation her family members specialized in. Their preferred style of leadership had gone out of fashion around the time Chinggis Khan’s empire fell.
Thus far, her conclusions filled her with doubt rather than optimism. How could a more compassionate, twenty-first century approach work with a society accustomed to brutality? Was it possible to change a culture ingrained with violence since the period before recorded history?
She’d recently concluded that she couldn’t save the Immortals from themselves, if she wasn’t in charge.
Darkyn and Fate had already figured it out long ago.
Troubled, she stopped in front of Kiki’s cell. The most stable of her brothers, his administrative prowess kept the castle and society in order on paper. Bearing his iPad, she glanced at the Immortal guards. They never failed to open the doors when she told them to, leaving her with the impression Wynn knew she’d be visiting often enough to give his guards instructions to let her in.
Wynn was the one person she couldn’t figure out how to work with or understand his mind. She had to tread carefully, because she had no desire to end up in the dungeon or Hell. She continued to hit a brick wall whenever she considered her options for dealing with him.
The guard allowed her and her fanged babysitter to enter the cell. As usual, her guardian angel, Mithra, had fallen behind at some point during their journey from the fourth floor to the catacombs.
Kiki’s eye was black, his lip swollen, and he bore bruises all over his body. He was chained to the far wall. He lifted his head.
“Brought you the blanket you requested. And candy bars,” Stephanie said. Every time she saw the condition of one of her brothers, she experienced a flush of warm fury. She passed the blanket and food to Kiki, who didn’t have any sort of creature comforts in the cell.
“Now I won’t freeze to death every night,” Kiki said.
“You look worse than usual.” Stephanie had given up trying to understand how none of her brothers appeared upset or angry with their father. They acted as if being thrown into his dungeon and occasionally tortured was routine.
“I mouthed off to a guard. Or five,” Kiki said nonchalantly. “What you got?” He held out his hand for the iPad she carried.
She also didn’t understand how Kiki could care about the castle’s business when imprisoned. It defied reasoning that he’d want to help the man who sentenced him to prison.
“Invoices for supplies shipments, utilities and food orders, among a bunch of other shit about the administrative infrastructure I don’t understand,” she replied. “Accounting isn’t my thing. I couldn’t …”
Before she finished the sentence, Kiki handed the tablet back. “I fixed the numbers.”
Stephanie glanced down at the screen. In seconds, Kiki had balanced the books she’d spent a week struggling to understand.
“How do you do that?” she asked, perplexed. “Am I that bad at it?”
“Numbers are my gift. They make sense to me, unlike people,” Kiki responded. “But perfect numbers aren’t going to fix the core issues. Wynn won’t listen to me when I tell him we need permanent solutions to sustain our operations and function as a cohesive society. We can throw money at the problems but at some point, we have to fix the underlying issues.”
“I’d listen to you,” she said.
Kiki smiled. “I know. You’re the only one with any sense around here.”
“Thanks. You don’t have to help me, you know.”
“Nothing else to do. It’s nice to keep an eye on what’s going on. When I’m free, someday, I’ll go right back to managing all this shit. I’d rather it be in order when I do.”
“I really hope that happens sooner than later, if only because I’m a terrible administrator.”
“I’m not optimistic.”
Stephanie suppressed a sigh. “Where does all this money come from anyway?” On paper, Wynn was a multi-trillionaire whose net worth was in the fourteen digits.
“Thousands of years of savings and securing real properties all over the world. If you owned half of Paris or a block in Manhattan, you’re pretty much set,” Kiki said. “Wynn built the foundation long before coins and bills existed, and Kris has had a good eye for high risk, high rewards investing. There used to be more, but we created a fund to support the Immortal families a few hundred years ago and deposited half of our money into it to support the community.”
She shook her head. “I can’t even imagine that much money. How long do you think you’ll be down here? I can definitely use the help with all this administrative stuff.”
“Who knows?” Kiki rested his head against the back wall of the cell, unconcerned. “When Kris was pissed, he used to send us to the dungeon for a decade or two, and he exiled Rhyn to Hell for a few centuries.”
The expanses of time no longer surprised her. On days when she was pissed at the world for the change of her circumstances, she believed the real problem plaguing the Immortals was their lifespans. If they had a limited time on earth, perhaps they would appreciate their world and family and wouldn’t collectively be such bitter assholes.
“All right. Want me to bring you anything else next time?” Stephanie asked.
“The usual. A box of candy bars.”
“Sure,” she said. “Thanks for the help.”
“No problem.” Kiki wadded up the blanket and placed it beneath his neck as he stretched out on the floor.
Stephanie made a mental note to bring him a pillow next time as well as the candy bars. She left her brother in his cell and went to the next one, where Rhyn was imprisoned. The jailer opened the door.
Stephanie stopped in the doorway. “What the hell?”
“Hey, sis.” Rhyn’s inhuman voice resulted from the fact he had morphed into his demon form, a furry monster with wings, fangs and talons. He was sprawled out on his stomach on the floor, one wing pointed to the ceiling and the other propping up the letter he read. His liquid silver eyes shifted from the letter to her.
Unlike Kiki, he wasn’t chained. The guards appeared to understand he was there by choice, because he could have broken out at any second. Or they were as terrified of his different forms as she was.
“You know it freaks me out when you do that, don’t you?”
He gave a smoky laugh and toothy grin that made her shudder. “Better than last week.”
Stephanie didn’t want to think about what her shapeshifter brother had been last week. He’d transformed into something she’d never seen anywhere else with too many legs, multiple wings, and a dozen eyes. She’d had nightmares for two days.
Rhyn, her favorite brother – aside from Andre – liked to fuck with her.
“Any thoughts on Rhyn-smashing this place this week?” she asked, stepping into the small cell.
“He said he’ll spare my family if I play nice,” Rhyn growled.
“You believe him?”
“Wynn won’t break his promises. Just manipulates and tortures.”
“Don’t forget murder.”
Rhyn bared his fangs in what she assumed was a smile. “What’s up, sis?” he asked.
“Just doing my weekly check up to make sure you guys are still alive,” she replied.
“He can’t kill me, so yeah.”
It wasn’t the greatest logic she’d ever heard. Stephanie pulled his presents out of her tote bag. She rested a stack of seven letters and a photo on the floor beside his head. Rhyn’s wife, Katie, wrote him every day.
Unconcerned about the grime and dirt, Rhyn shifted forward on his belly and plucked the photo up. He smiled at the picture of his mate and child. “As long as they’re safe, I don’t care what Wynn does to me,” he said.
“You should really write her back,” Stephanie chided him, not for the first time.
“She knows I love her.”
“She’s a woman. It’s not that easy.”
If a blood-sucking demon in its non-human form could appear thoughtful, he did.
“Write her back or face her wrath when you meet again.”
He grimaced. “She can definitely unleash hell. You have a pen?”
Stephanie pulled pen and a notebook out of her bag. “I’ll come get your letter tomorrow. Make it sweet.”
“Demons don’t do sweet,” Rhyn replied.
“It’s your ass on the line, not mine,” Stephanie replied. “What do you want me to bring you next week?”
“A bottle of whiskey.”
Her brothers didn’t ask for much, considering they were stuck in a dungeon at the bottom of a catacombs with no guarantee their father would ever free them.
“Oh, Kiki said he forgot to tell you something.” Rhyn tilted his head to the side, listening to the telepathic message from his brother in the neighboring cell. “He said to bring his other iPad next time. He’s bored and wants to run some different numbers.”
“Why can’t I talk to you guys like that?” she asked.
“Maybe you can in time. It took us a while to figure it out.” Rhyn’s attention went to the notebook. Unable to hold a pen with his talons, he picked up the picture again.
Intrigued by the idea she could one day speak to her brothers telepathically, Stephanie left Rhyn in his cell and went to the next one, where the former death dealer and antiquities collector, Tamer, was chained. He had a cot and several stacks of books.
“It’s about fucking time!” he snapped when she entered.
“Good to see you, too, Tamer,” Stephanie replied. “Brought you more books.”
“Good ones?”
“How would I know? I can’t read whatever language this is. I just grabbed them out of the study.” She pulled three dusty tomes from her tote bag and handed them to the surliest of her brothers.
He took them and glanced at the spines. “Better than nothing, but not by much,” he muttered.
“Do you have to be a jerk every time?”
“I need more than three next week.” Tamer settled in a corner with his book. Ignoring her, he began to read.
“You’re welcome!” Stephanie snapped.
She exited the cell, gaze on Trayern.
“Hey, Tamer, do you happen to have a charity set up?” she called, leaning back into the cell.
“Two,” was the response.
“For what?”
“Teaching children in underprivileged countries to read.”
Stephanie glared at her guard demon, irritated. Trayern gave her the knowing look he often did, when she realized he was right about something.
She left Tamer to read and went to the next cell assigned to Kris – the former head of the Council. The most polished of those in the dungeon, he had been provided a chair, small table and cot by guards who either had been bribed or who liked him. His cell was bigger than the others, too, and he wasn’t chained. Likewise, he bore no bruises or signs of torture or abuse, and he had a trunk and bookshelf where he’d placed whatever he could convince the guards to bring him.
“Morning, Stephanie,” he said when she walked through the door. His hair was pure white, like their father’s, and his eyes changed colors based on his mood. Today, they were green, a hue she had learned meant he was content.
“Hey, Kris.” She presented this week’s request, a box of cigars and lighter.
“From Wynn’s stash?”
“Yep.”
“Perfect,” Kris said and accepted them with a smile. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Wynn buys the good stuff. I trade these to the guards for favors.”
“Guess I’m not surprised.” Stephanie glanced at the shelves holding his treasures. “You have your own stash of liquor.”
“Wynn isn’t the only person good at manipulating others,” Kris replied smoothly. “In a month, I’ll have everything I could ever need in here.”
Recalling the stories about Kris, who was known both for being a mini-Wynn and disregarding the rules Wynn held in esteem, Stephanie was never sure what to think of her second oldest brother. His view of how to lead had clashed with Wynn’s, no matter how similar the two were when it came to ruthlessly using and discarding people. No one had explained to her the full extent of Kris’ medical experiments and the other heinous acts he’d committed during his reign. That Wynn considered Kris’ methods brutal was enough to warn Stephanie she didn’t want to go near that rabbit hole.
For all his faults, Kris, like his father, was widely respected for ensuring the survival of the very Immortals he tormented after Wynn’s initial death and for stopping several large demon incursions. She was consistently vexed by how complex, and often contradictory, the members of her family could be.
“How’s life above ground?” Kris asked and set the cigars and lighter on his table.
“Rough,” she admitted. “Lost mate, exiled sister and mother, four brothers in prison. I could be a one-person reality television show.”
Kris smiled. “I don’t think any network could stomach the dynamics of our family.”
“Probably not.”
“You’re upset today.”
She met his gaze. Like their father, Kris saw too much, and like their father, he stored the information away for use against someone later. She’d once asked him how he did it, and his unsettling response had been that he always just knew things. Neither Wynn nor Kris would ever reveal the extent of their abilities and knowledge.
The main difference between father and son: Kris was warm, where Wynn was cold. It didn’t make Kris any less dangerous. If anything, he had the ability to lure people into a false state of trust, which he had the first time she met him. Even knowing what he was, sometimes Stephanie truly believed he cared.
“More so than usual,” Kris added at her silence.
Trusting him was unwise, but sometimes, Stephanie needed someone to talk to. She provided him with limited information, in case he found a use for it.
“It just gets harder by the day,” she replied and rubbed her face. “I’m running myself ragged all day listening to the petitioners, poorly attempting to balance the books, and whatever else Wynn wants done. I’m fed up with everything and miss my family. I’m terrified of confronting or crossing Wynn, because I don’t want him to hurt my family. And, unlike you guys, I have no intentions of spending an eternity in prison. It doesn’t leave me with many options.”
“Do what you’re told,” Kris advised. “Appease Wynn and protect your family.”
“I know, I know. He’ll fuck me up, if I don’t.”
“Exactly. What of Fate?”
A pang of longing hit her hard enough to render her speechless. She tried hard not to think of her mate, who had been sentenced to Hell by none other than the father she was forced to obey. The more she pushed Fate out of her mind, the stronger she yearned for him. All she thought about most days was whether he was going to survive the Dark One and if so, what shape he’d be in, assuming he was released. During the single visit she’d been permitted to make to Hell, Fate had claimed he had a plan.
Several weeks later, nothing had changed. Immortals and deities viewed weeks with the same dismissal she did seconds, but she couldn’t imagine waiting months, years, decades or longer for Fate to make his move and return to her.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Kris murmured.
“I’m always upset,” Stephanie said with a sad smile.
“Stay strong. If you need support of some kind, ask Wynn to let your mother and sister come to the castle,” Kris said. “You know he’ll do it. He loves having leverage on people.”
“Which is exactly why I haven’t asked him and won’t,” Stephanie said. “I just want …” Normal. But normal wasn’t an option and never would be again. “I guess I want my family – all of you – free and happy and not to fear whatever craziness Wynn has in store.”
“Good luck with that,” Kris said. “Might be better to accept things as they are for now. None of us are getting out of the dungeon any time soon. Wynn’s not just disappointed, he’s pissed. The last time he was angry with me, I spent two hundred years in a cell. I was twelve.”
“That’s insane,” she breathed, pitying him.
“It’s nothing when you have an eternity, especially when there’s always the possibility of being resurrected like I was. It makes you appreciate being alive but also makes you want to scream when you realize you’ll be alive forever.”
Along with their father, Andre and Kris had both been dead-dead and resurrected by Death. Stephanie appreciated Andre being alive. She suspected the world was better off without the other two.
“Besides, I can find ways to make my life comfortable.” Kris winked. “Take care of you, your mother and sister. We’ll be fine down here. It is what it is for now.”
“If you say so.”
“Sometimes you have to wait for the right opportunity to act. Our family is not exactly opposed to using violence when warranted,” Kris said. “I know it’s not your first choice, but you might want to consider it an option. The first person who puts down Wynn takes control of the Council.”
His words chilled her, not only because she heard the ambition in his tone, but because she doubted the Immortals would survive Kris a second time. She didn’t need to speak to every Immortal in existence to understand there were some serious divisions forming within the society. Based on their history beneath the Council’s brutal rule, they had every reason to rebel.
“What do you want me to bring you next week?” she asked, not about to go down that path with Kris.
“Diet soda, please.”
Her brothers were easy to please despite the terrible conditions they lived in. Stephanie nodded and left.
Trailed by her guard demon, Stephanie made her way through the creepy dungeon once more and returned to her chamber on the fourth floor of the castle. She was supposed to be listening to petitioners this morning, but she wanted no part of talking to anyone. Her head was a mess, and her dreams had been of Fate. She awoke crying.
She summoned a portal to visit the Sanctuary where her family was hiding out.
The portal fizzled and disappeared.
Stephanie groaned. Wynn had disabled her ability to enter the place-between-places and go anywhere. When she asked how that was possible, Andre had explained that the magic of the castle, which originated from Wynn, obeyed whoever was in charge. If Wynn didn’t want someone entering the castle, he could bar them. If he wanted to invite demons to his soiree to eat his guests, he could likewise grant them entrance.
She turned to her guard demon. Mithra, the guardian angel, who had to have been millions of years old, hadn’t yet joined them. It normally took him an hour to catch up after she visited the dungeon.
“Trayern, can you –” she started.
“I’m not your bitch,” the demon replied calmly.
“You’re not much of a guardian, either,” she muttered and touched her abdomen where Wynn had stabbed her.
The demon glared at her. “Don’t fuck with me, half-breed.”
“How much longer will you be here?” Stephanie asked.
“Until the boss says I can go home.”
Trayern, one of Darkyn’s most trusted lieutenants, had been assigned to prevent her from entering Hell again as well as protect her in a deal Fate made with the Dark One. Without a soul, she was un-trackable by demons and able to move in and out of Hell without anyone knowing, which had pissed off the demon lord Darkyn.
Trayern had dropped his guard once, when Wynn had stabbed her in order to force her mother – a goddess named Chaos – to appear, so he could manipulate her, too.
Since then, Trayern was never farther than a foot from her. They’d become fed up with one another within a week after Stephanie was confined to her chambers. Despite her annoyance, she’d also started to figure out not all demons were wild animals who only wanted to murder humans.
Trayern was smart. Threats to eat her aside, he only interfered when he deemed it necessary – normally around Wynn – and stayed out of the way the rest of the time.
“What would you do in my circumstances?” she asked the demon.
“Murder Wynn.”
“That’s a lot easier said than done. Wynn always knows.”
“But can he stop it?”
If there was anything Stephanie believed without a doubt about her father, it was that he could stop anything headed his way. He had a knack for anticipating everyone and everything and controlling a room full of people with a few words and a look. Fate and Darkyn believed Wynn’s gift to be similar to Stephanie’s, in that he could read the deepest fears out of people’s minds. If that were true, he was much more skilled at it than she was, for most of the secrets she encountered weren’t important enough to manipulate a god or goddess.
“Is Darkyn afraid of Wynn?” she asked curiously.
“Darkyn fears no one,” Trayern said firmly. “He respects Wynn.”
It was either high praise or an ominous sign. Or both. Either way, Stephanie didn’t believe she had a chance against her father, if she challenged him directly. Kiki had once told her Wynn would smell a lie before she walked into his study, and he’d fuck her up mentally if she tried to manipulate him.
The truth, then, was her only alternative to being confined in the dungeon or worse, being sent to Hell, like Wynn had done to Andre. The truth also limited her ability to work behind the scenes.
A knock at her door sent Trayern on full alert. He withdrew a jagged, curved dagger and opened the door. He scowled and stepped aside. He sheathed the knife and walked away.
Stephanie knew who was present before the door opened completely. Trayern despised Peace and the calming effect he had on those around him. As usual, Trayern went to the point of the chamber farthest from Andre.
“You doing okay?” Peace asked, taking in her tight features.
She made a face, and he laughed.
“Wrong question,” he said. “Do you need anything?”
“Can you open a portal so I can visit my family?”
“Even if I did, you couldn’t walk through it,” Peace told her. “Wynn’s blocked you.”
She sighed and sat. “Has Wynn said anything about Fate or my family?”
“Not to me.”
“I feel like I should do something.”
“You are,” he said warmly. “You’re doing your duty until there’s an opportunity to help those you care about. It’s all you can do. The more content Wynn is with you, the better your chances are of him hearing you out eventually.”
As usual, Peace’s reasoning soothed her. “Thanks. He did let me go to my Humans Anonymous meeting last month. It helped. Maybe I can ask him to let me visit my family.”
“I have a feeling things will change soon.”
She studied him. “Meaning …”
“Wynn hasn’t been himself of late.”
Stephanie perked up. “Should I ask him again about Fate?”
“I think you’ll know when the time is right.”
Agitated about the cryptic advice, Stephanie had to admit she was starved for Andre’s tiny bits of hope. They were all she had for the time being. If Andre thought to mention the thaw in Wynn to her, it was important. Her oldest brother wouldn’t mislead her.
“How are the boys in the dungeon?” Andre asked.
“Completely fine with their circumstances,” Stephanie said. “There’s something wrong with all of us.”
“Immortals in general can take a beating better than humans.”
“No shit,” she murmured. “I keep holding out for things to get better.”
“They will, and soon. I have faith.”
Stephanie wasn’t nearly as optimistic as her brother, but she prayed he was right.
“Guess I gotta spend time listening to petitioners,” she said.
“The duties of royalty never cease,” Peace said dryly. “You’re doing good. If not, Wynn would be correcting your behavior.”
“I don’t want to know what that entails.”
“No, you do not.”
She shivered. “Come on, Trayern,” she called to the demon scowling from the far corner.
Peace stepped aside, and Trayern skirted him to reach the door. Stephanie left her chamber for the petitioner hall on the first floor.
Everyone who offered her advice stressed the need for her to play Wynn’s game. Even Fate had told her so. In his case, it wasn’t just the threat of Wynn in general, but the survival of the entire Immortal society. If civil war broke out, the society itself would implode, and the human world would be exposed to demons and other deities.
Some days, she wanted to walk away. Stephanie was often incredulous by the idea that the survival of an ancient world could rest on her shoulders and decisions, or that saving everyone meant obeying the tyrant who would sacrifice her and her brothers without blinking. Fate believed her to be the key to both preventing civil war and holding her family together, two opposing goals and neither of which appeared possible at the moment.
The biggest obstacle to everything she needed to do: Wynn. He was also the one person who could help her negotiate the release of her mate, if she played his fucking game.
Until she had a plan, she’d spend her mornings on petitioner duty and her afternoons struggling to manage the dump truck-sized load of paperwork that came with running an empire.
Stephanie entered through the back door of the large hall where the petitions were heard and sat at the table opposite the entrance. Already, the line extended out the door. The scribe, a young Immortal who played games on his iPad between recording her decisions, appeared as glum as she felt.
Stephanie motioned for the first petitioner to approach. Her eyes slid to the chair where Fate had once sat, helping her determine who told the truth and who lied. He hadn’t sat there in weeks, but she couldn’t help expecting he’d magically appear whenever she entered the hall.
Resigned to her duty for the morning, Stephanie began taking notes as the first petitioner spoke.