Page 32

T HIRTY -O NE X ANDER

The rainfall shower head pelts me with hot water, washing away the dirt and blood, but it won’t erase what happened, no matter how long I stand under it.

You’re a coward.

Camille’s words play on a loop in my head as I scrub my skin raw.

I haven’t shut off my emotions completely, but they’re certainly subdued. I need to keep a clear head from here on out or people— my people —will be in danger, and I won’t allow that. Which is why I must keep distance between Camille and me, now more than ever. I can’t let myself be vulnerable, and when I’m around her, that is more difficult than I care to admit.

With a sigh, I rest my forehead against the cool shower tile, letting the water hit my back as I take a few shallow breaths.

Marrick is a bigger problem now that I’m taking the throne instead of handing it to him. Dealing with that prick will be the first order of business to discuss with my council after I’m sworn in.

The ascension summit is in two weeks, during the winter solstice. There will be drinking and dancing and a very comical presentation of the crown by the royal guard. They adore any opportunity for spectacle within our world, so there’s no chance I’ll get out of all the ridiculous pomp and circumstance.

You wanted this , I remind myself, standing straight again and dragging a hand down my face.

So why do I feel so utterly empty?

After showering, I put on a black dress shirt and slacks, then go in search of Blake. I can’t share anything about encountering Danielle in the underworld with anyone else until I get more information. There must be a reason Camille’s sister is in hell, and I need to know the circumstances before I bring it up, because Camille will undoubtedly have questions. That’s if she believes me at all. I’m not winning any points in the credibility department with her lately.

I find Blake in the enclosed porch off the kitchen overlooking the back of the property. The night sky is pitch black but clear and spattered with stars. Flames from the floor to ceiling fireplace crackle, and Blake swirls the drink in his glass. His eyes shift to me when I approach. “Drink?”

I wave him off, walking toward the bar cart in the corner of the room to pour myself a scotch. Drink in hand, I join him in front of the fireplace and take a sip.

He glances sideways at me. “You good?”

“I’m king,” I offer in lieu of a real answer.

He chuckles, giving my shoulder a shove. “Fucking right you are, mate.” Taking another drink, he asks, “Are you going to tell me what happened during the final trial?”

I shrug. “Marrick killed Harper.”

His brows furrow, and he all but snarls, “What?”

“It wasn’t real. They weren’t actually there. But I had to face Harper hating me for choosing my throne over her life.”

He blinks, and I think there’s a split second of shock in his expression. “Did you know it wasn’t real?”

The lie is on the tip of my tongue, but I’ve never been untruthful to Blake and I’m not going to start now. “No.”

“So you really would’ve let her die?”

“No,” I insist. “I would’ve stopped it.”

He nods slowly. “Hmm. Why?”

My eyes narrow a fraction. “Because she’s my hunter. My blood. Mine .”

“How heartwarming,” he mutters dryly.

I roll my eyes. “What’s done is done. But I do need you to look into something else that happened while we were there.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“I also need you to keep it to yourself.”

He scoffs. “Please. Who am I going to tell?”

I offer him a level look.

“Fine, fine. My lips are sealed. What is it?”

I down the rest of my drink, setting the glass on the wooden mantle before turning to face Blake. “Camille’s sister is in hell.”

“She’s what ? How do you know?”

“I saw her. Spoke to her, actually.”

His eyes pop wide. “You’re sure it was her?”

I nod. “She and Camille have matching tattoos among other similarities, both in appearance and personality.”

“Bloody hell,” he says under his breath. “How did this happen?”

“That’s what I need you to find out.”

“Does Camille know yet?” he asks after a moment of contemplation.

“I’m not telling her until I have more information.”

“Makes sense. She’s going to lose her mind…and probably accuse you of lying through your teeth.”

“I know and I’ll deal with that.”

Blake claps me on the shoulder, finishing his drink and setting his empty glass next to mine. “Never a dull fucking moment, mate.”

The following two weeks are spent preparing for my ascension summit during winter solstice. Which is essentially a giant party where demons from all over the world will come to celebrate a new dawn of our monarchy, so I get to partake in a bunch of ornamental shit like wardrobe fittings and drink and menu pairings. I wanted to do things differently than my predecessor, which means taking a more hands-on approach and attending all of the meetings I’d much rather delegate to Blake or one of the others.

Days are shorter and the weather turns dark and cold, filled with gray skies and rain. It’s just as well, considering I spend most of them in meetings with Blake, Greer, Jude, Francesca, and Roman discussing next steps and where everyone will be posted. My council will stay close by in surrounding cities for the first year of my reign. Then once the growing pains have passed, they’ll be given the option to relocate where they wish should they want to move.

Harper tried getting away from Seattle to join us last week, but word of my ascension flooded through the organization before she could. Everyone is on high alert, gauging how the demon population is going to react, so her getting away doesn’t seem like an option at the moment, which of course isn’t making things easier for Camille being here.

She’s become skilled at avoiding me, and I’ve been giving her space. I know she’s close by. Even without the connection of our souls, I feel her on a level I still don’t entirely understand. But she’s here and she’s safe, which is what matters. Gio has been a great support for her in Harper’s absence. I’ve seen them get closer, whether it be afternoon hikes or cooking lessons.

I’m constantly torn between keeping her at arms’ length and pushing her further away. If the demons see her as someone they can use to manipulate me, that puts a significant target on her back. She didn’t choose any of this, and the thought of putting her in danger so we can be together feels…selfish. I recognize that but I also know deep in the dark pit of my chest that it won’t be enough to keep me from her. Because I am that selfish. I’ll have Camille, consequences be damned.

Blake is still gathering information about Camille’s sister, and while I’ve considered a trip back to hell myself, I can’t disappear without inviting attention I’m not prepared to face at the moment. My actions are under a microscope now, my every move tracked and ridiculed by the royal guard and other, just as if not more, opinionated demons—most of which still aren’t amenable to how I took the throne.

The tension among my kind isn’t lost on me, but the only thing I can do at this point is show up and prove them wrong.

My mother ruled with a power-hungry desire for control over the masses. I’ve never shared that ideology. I’ll punish those who deserve it—who put our kind in danger and attempt to reject my authority—but my role is to support demonkind. To help it thrive in the face of adversity, like the hunters.

The monarch’s role was always supposed to be that of a leader, and it’s high time we get back to that.

My confidence comes and goes in unpredictable waves. I tossed and turned all night and woke long before daylight this morning. When the sun finally rises, I roll over and grab my phone off of the nightstand. After scrolling the headlines in the Seattle press, I open my contacts and tap on Harper’s name.

She answers on the first ring. “What’s wrong?” Her voice is tired but filled with concern.

“Nothing,” I say.

She exhales a heavy breath. “So why are you calling me so fucking early? I thought something happened to Camille.”

“Camille is fine. She’s still asleep.”

“Why aren’t you?”

I sit up, leaning against the headboard and stretching my legs out in front of me. “I don’t sleep much these days.”

“Boo hoo,” she remarks mockingly, “Poor demon king.”

I chuckle. “No sympathy for the devil, huh?”

“Nope. None. So why are you calling me?”

“I take it you’re not going to make it here for the ascension summit later today?”

“I didn’t think I had to tell you what a monumentally terrible idea that would be. A room full of demons and your human, demon-hunting half-sister? That’s a disaster waiting to happen, Xander.”

“I hear you.” I thrust my hand through my hair, taming the unruly waves, messy from the aforementioned tossing and turning.

“While we’re talking about it, I don’t think Camille should be there either. It’s not safe.”

“I have no intention to have her at the summit. There’s a coronation celebration happening after that she’ll be attending.” If she decides to wear the dress I left for her .

There’s a small stretch of silence. “You’re sure that’s safe for her?”

“I wouldn’t allow it if doing so would put her in danger. The party is for the inner circle, the people who support my reign and want to celebrate it. It’ll mostly be friends and of course my council. At least, most of it.”

She hums but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m still waiting for—”

“I know,” she cuts in.

“Are you considering it?” I’m taking it as a positive sign that she hasn’t outright refused the position on my council yet.

“Considering…overthinking. Yep. Sure am.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

She laughs, but it doesn’t hold an ounce of humor. “Not with you.”

“Ouch. I’ll try not to take offense to that.”

I think I hear a smile in her voice when she murmurs, “You should go. You have a busy day ahead.”

“Right. Well, I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Okay—”

“Xander?”

“Harper,” I level.

Silence fills the line again. Finally, she says, “Congratulations.”

My chest swells with something I can’t immediately decipher, and the call disconnects.

When it’s time to leave for the summit, Blake walks out to the car at my side. As much as I wish it was Camille next to me—firstly, Harper was right about it not being safe for her to be there, and secondly, I can picture the look that would fill Camille’s face if I’d tried to make her—I’m glad Blake is here. I may not feel as anxious as I once was, but the immense weight of the responsibility I’ve signed on for is staring me right in the face.

We drive for a little more than an hour. Blake must sense that I’m not in the mood or headspace to keep a conversation, because he doesn’t attempt it. Instead, we listen to music, and Blake sings along to most of the songs as he keeps his focus on the road.

As we pull into a long, winding driveway, I take a slow, deep breath, and take in the scenery out my window. Pine trees stand tall and broad in the clear, dusk sky, the air refreshingly cool. This building we drive up to appears to be an old resort property, though based on the sparsely filled parking lot, it’s safe to say it no longer operates for the public.

The royal guard has control of where the summit is held but not the coronation ball, as Blake gleefully informed me when sharing his plans for the event tonight. They must own this property as they do with others scattered around North America so they have a designated place to be during their eternally ill-timed visits.

My council meets us inside the front doors, their expressions serious but hopeful. I soak it in, using their support to feed my power, and hold my head higher as I straighten my posture.

“Are you ready?” Jude asks, keeping her gaze on me as Francesca, Greer, and Roman draw closer. We stand in a modern but empty lobby area, and the buzz of too many voices to count comes from the other side of a set of double doors across the lobby.

It kicks my alertness into high gear, and I answer, “Yes,” without a second of hesitation.

Blake claps me on the back, standing at my side and grinning. “Of course he’s ready.”

Blake moves forward and opens the door as Jude steps aside for me to walk ahead.

I lift my chin and square my shoulders as I step through the doorway. A deafening hush falls over the massive room as I move toward the front, where a raised platform with a throne-like chair awaits.

Letting my eyes roam the faces all locked on me, I make a point to meet the gazes of as many demons as I can on my way up. Men and women of differing ages fill the room; there must be at least two hundred demons here. Some appear pleased or excited, while others are more reserved and even openly suspicious

My council flanks me, and when I step onto the platform, they stand on either side of my throne. My gaze sweeps across the room, landing on mostly unfamiliar faces—until I reach the front row and my eyes connect with one of my mother’s friends .

The sudden tightness in my chest threatens to crack the facade I’ve built between myself and any emotions tempted to try breaking through. Nausea rolls through me, and I clench my jaw, forcing my gaze away from the wretched woman. I haven’t seen her in years—I certainly didn’t expect to here—and the vivid memories of the nights we shared come rushing to the surface. To be fair, shared isn’t exactly the right word when I wasn’t given much choice in the matter. It happened all too often with the women in Lucia’s inner circle, and it wasn’t until I was older and moved out of the compound that I recognized how fucked up it was. How I was manipulated and used to the point it felt normal.

I shove away those remnants of my past, focusing on keeping my posture straight, regal as I stand in front of my throne.

The royal guard makes their entrance, wearing all-black pantsuits and blank expressions. They replace my council on either side of the throne, forcing Francesca, Blake, Greer, Jude, and Roman to stand behind them.

“The ascension trials are complete,” Rupert announces in a deep voice that projects toward the back of the room. “Xander Kane faced internal and external conflicts to prove himself worthy and strong enough to truly take the position he is formally embracing today.”

“Xander Kane,” Dominic chimes in loudly as I keep my gaze trained forward. Unwavering. “Do you vow to rule our people with every ounce of strength you possess?”

I nod curtly. “I do.”

Lorraine steps in front of me with her back to the crowd of demons. From somewhere behind me, Malachi hands her a black crown made of wrought iron and black diamonds.

Lorraine’s pitch-black eyes meet mine. “Kneel.”

I follow her command, sinking to my knees before her. The pressure in my chest feels bigger now, my heart thumping faster. I school my features into a mask of cool indifference, but this is a pivotal moment. One I will carry with me for the rest of my existence.

“This crown is a symbol of your eternal power and strength,” she says in a voice that carries through the room as she lowers it onto my head. A shiver races through my body, making my skin tingle as she pulls back, clasping her hands in front of her. “Rise and take your rightful place on your throne, King Xander.”

I straighten, my gaze sweeping out over the crowd as I step back and sit on the plush cushion.

Lorraine moves to the side to stand next to Malachi, while Rupert steps up to my right. “Your new king has been crowned,” he announces. “All hail, and long may he reign!”

The crown feels impossibly heavy on my head as I stare out at the crowd of mostly cheering and clapping demons, and a poignant weight settles over my shoulders.

Despite the flare of pride in my chest and the air of confidence I’m emanating, I can’t help thinking…

What the hell have I done?