Page 192 of As Above, So Below

Forced to find the pieces.

Made to believe everything Netharis tells her.

And it will take centuries before anything starts to make sense.

If they ever make sense.

“Come on. I’m not going to make you walk to the tower.” He sounds resigned, defeated. “Netharis is waiting.”

Vaelyn swings himself in front of me, grasping both of my hands with surprising care. Before I can argue, shadows swirl up around and sweep us deeper into the hells.

As the shadows vanish, I’d expected to see my father’s study.

I did not expect the throne room.

Beyond that, I did not expect his throne room to be filled with spectators. Greater demons, lords and ladies, archdemons—all stare at me with eager eyes. I feel a century old again and shrink under the weight of their anticipation.

I’m going to be made an example. Proof Netharis tolerates disobedience from no one—no one is safe from his wrath. Not even his daughter.

Vaelyn steps back, releasing my hands as he turns. He approaches the empty throne, taking his place to stand beside it. It’s a towering, jagged seat constructed of polished obsidian and adorned with blood-red rubies.

While the room is a wide expanse, the black draped obsidian walls feel more oppressive than I remember.

Hellfire blinds me, and I squint against it.

As the flair fades, Netharis sits perched on his throne, revealing his true form. A creature with eyes as red as freshly spilled blood, massive horned wings, taloned hands, and rows of sharpened teeth.

The king of demons.

My father.

He crosses a leg over the other, letting his hands fall upon the armrests as he sits back in his seat. His talons curl around the end of the arm rest, my eyes catching on the centuries-worn marks from his claws. The look upon his face is one I’ve seen countless times.

Disdain.

Disappointment.

Rage.

Yet, despite my innate’s silence, I’m unmoved by his facade.

The rage I harbor toward thisgodtransformed at some point, I don’t know when. It’s become deep and unmoving, capable of things I never thought possible.

“Welcome home, Vestaris,” he drawls with a wicked grin.

I remain silent.

“You’ve cost me more than you realize,” he says with a sigh, his head tilting as he looks over me.

Curling his lip in disgust he continues, “And for what?Him?Those mortals?” he scoffs. “Mortals are not worthy of you.Heis not worthy of you. I knew you’d allow yourself to beusedby Celesta.” He shakes his head, rising from his seat. “What you’ve given her was not meantfor her! You’veruinedher! You selfish, petulantchild!”

Ruined?

The shock of surprise keeps me silent.

Since when does Nethariscareabout Celesta? He forced the goddess to bear his children. For centuries, he’s kept her locked away and isolated as if she’s some sort of trophy. Athingto be displayed.

But the rage in his voice just now…