Page 28 of As Above, So Below

“I know.”

“I need you to understand that if he finds out, he will lock you away in obsidian again.”

Meeting his stare, my jaw clenches. “Are you going to stop me?”

“We both know I can’t do that,” he says with a sad smile.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Vaelyn was right.

I’ve been summoned to the throne room.

Based on previous summons, it’s likely to be forced to listen to the Layer Lords sling accusations against Netharis’ ability to rule the hells and Netharis roar his will in response. I’ll be criticized and judged and prescribed an appropriate punishment for my actions.

Which weren’t evenmyactions.

Keeping both my tongue and my innate under control are crucial. I need to endure. I need the time to figure out how to escape. If I earn myself decades in obsidian, there’s no promise of re-emerging—and if I do, I’ll be changed.

Again.

If what Vaelyn says is true, the Layer Lords will antagonize me. They’llwantanother outburst. Anything to prove Netharis isn’t as capable as he should be, despite him being a literalgod.

This can go one of two ways.

I can accept whatever punishment Netharis decides and quietly continue my search for escape, or I can rally the Layer Lords andhopethey’re strong enough to overthrow the god of death.

The latter option doesn’t feel as attainable as the first.

And even if by some sliver of a chance they’re successful, the aftermath would be catastrophic. The hells needs a ruler. Vaelyn would need to step in, and there’s no guarantee I’d be able to leave.

No.

I need to keep quiet today.

As I move along the corridor, tall, black, arched doors at the end of the hall loom like a sword overhead on a burning rope. I keepmy eyes downcast, avoiding the faces and stares of the demons lining the wide hall, but I feel their stares all the same.

They stand, wearing their best attire, if anything at all, wanting to attract eyes. TheywantNetharis’ attentions or the stares of the Layer Lords, perhaps even Vaelyn himself. Anything to inflate their status, increase their political power.

Like scavengers lying in wait for death to claim their prey, they congregate ready to hear all about my pending punishment. Netharis could send them away with a simple wave of his hand, but he won’t.

I’m going to be made an example for other demons.

Yet, again.

Unfurling my hands for the hundredth time as I walk, the sharp pain of my talons cutting into my palms slowly fades. With a quick downward glance, I find my palms dotted with black blood.

The doors burst open, slamming against the wall, and my eyes snap wide. Vaelyn emerges from the room, the rage on his face unlike anything I’ve ever seen from him. He stands in the hall, his gaze sweeping over the demons with disdain.

“Leave. Now,” he thunders.

In flashes of hellfire and swirls of smoke and shadow the hall empties in seconds.

“Vae?” I slow to a stop, staring warily at my brother.

At the mention of his name, Vaelyn’s expression shifts, becoming softer. He glances over his shoulder, and my eyes follow. Behind him, Netharis sits on his throne, the nine Layer Lords seated on either side.

“Ves…” he says in a low whisper, turning to face me. “I tried. I did everything I possibly could. I offered to marry Kassil myself. I offered to take responsibility of the veil, of you. I offered to sit in a box for a century. He would have none of it. I’m sorry.”