Page 163 of As Above, So Below

What?

Finishing the glass in a single tilt, he slams it down, rattling the silverware and dishes. A dry, scathing laughter follows.

“You’ve skirted me for centuries, nyraphim.” He points a finger at Ryc. “But she doesn’t have the time you need to convince her to Join you.”

My head whirls to Ryc beside me.

Nyraphim?

Ryc keeps his eyes focused on Netharis as I stare.

A light wielder capable of seeing the creatures stalking in the veil—capable of besting Death Bringers—how did I not thinknyraphim?

Ryc is a creature of the heavens.

Pulling my hand away from his, I shrink against the other side of the chair. Slowly, he turns, his gold eyes pinning against mine. Molten pools of gold that threaten to steal my breath as I drownin them.

“Remember to trust me, little demon,”he urges gently.“I will explain everything I know later.”

“What do you want, Netharis?” Ryc demands turning those mind-emptying eyes away from me.

“I want what belongs to me,” he says, leaning back in his seat, crossing a leg over his knee. “I would take her, but laws of the primordials and all, bothersome things they are. I have enough problems with Gaia currently.”

Netharis huffs a tired sigh.

“Return to me, Vestaris,” he says, softening his tone. “Come home and all will be forgiven.”

A bold-faced lie dressed up to depict him as a caring father.

“No.” My fists tighten into balls in my lap. “I refuse.”

“Your presence in the living realm damns every living, breathing creature. It bastardizes the natural order.” He continues as if he were trying to convince a table of students, “Demons don’t belong in the living realm.”

“I do not belong to the hells.”

“A demon that doesn’t belong to the hells doesn’t exist,” he smirks. “You’re contractedto me. You belongto me.Your soulis mine.”

There it is.

The truth of the matter.

I will never be able to escape my father as long as my contract exists.

Netharis turns to Rowen.

“I’ll make you an offer,” he begins, his voice sanguine as he points to me. “Her death for the High Throne.”

Rowen shifts under the weight of Netharis’ stare, but holds his ground.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Netharis smiles, “I can give that to you. Once you return her to the hells.”

The rage and fear that slams into me from Ryc through our channel forces me to take a ragged breath. Ryc stares at my father, his gold gaze unwavering, his jaw clenched tight.

This is an impossible situation.

Ryc cannot protect me from the god of death.

“I will take no deal you offer, devil,” Rowen says, his voice calm, despite how rigid he appears in his seat.