Epilogue

The Lady strode, unafraid, through the domain of the demon lord Vatarxis. The few demons who could see her cowered back, while the rest went about their business unknowing. An imp careened into her and was obliterated in an instant, its companion squawking in fright and fleeing back the opposite way.

Vatarxis’s throne room was constructed entirely of black granite, lined with veins of gold. Typical demonic pretentiousness. He stood peering out a window, but at what, The Lady didn’t know. There was nothing worth seeing in this dark place.

“To what do I owe the honor of a visit?” he asked, not bothering to turn around.

“Why are you interfering?” she demanded.

“You violated our accord. I provided a demonic bloodline for the royal family of Larso, and in exchange, you were supposed to stop Pallisur. You failed.”

“That wasn’t by choice. Fox interfered.”

“And the child?” Vatarxis asked, spinning his bulk around to face her.

His voice was deep and heavy enough that she could feel the vibration within her own body. She’d learned to ignore the sensation on the blood-drenched Field of Van Kir, when she’d defeated him and brought an end to the Third Demon War. She’d earned great accolades that day, but if she’d known what the cost would be, she’d never have accepted the reward. Then again, if it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.

On that day in Van Kir, she and Vatarxis had made their first agreement. He’d returned to the hells, never to wage war against the mortal realm again. He’d seemed almost amused at her demands, but in the years since, he’d mostly kept to his side of the bargain, except when he grew bored. Today, though, she was here to speak to him about a more recent agreement.

“The child will still be born,” she said. “I just need more time, and a way to delay Pallisur. That doesn’t explain what you’ve done!”

“When Fox severed your plan, you ended up with two pawns rather than one. I’m familiar with Rusol—he’s my own blood, after all—but the other one is different. It’s amazing that you managed to fail at even that half of the plan. How is he not godborn?”

“Leave him out of this. He’s no threat to you.”

“Isn’t he? You made him a warden—you made them both wardens. How did you manage that, anyway?”

The Lady raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me, of all people? When the wardens figured out how to choose their own members, I paid attention. I was there, remember. Now, tell me, why did you send the girl?”

“I wanted to keep an eye on the other half of your failure, and make sure he didn’t return to Larso. He can still be dangerous, whether you think so or not. He was trained as a knight of Pallisur—what if Leonis convinces him to participate in the ritual?”

“That won’t happen. He may have trained as a knight, but he has little love for the order. And that doesn’t excuse your interference. His blessing was meant to ensure that he always finds the right bondmates, but now he’s bonded your daughter!”

Vatarxis laughed so hard the room shook. “You blessed him to... ! Well, that explains things. In that case, you’ll be pleased to know he was about to bond her himself before he stopped the spell. I simply made sure he completed the process.”

The Lady stopped and considered that. This changed things. She’d assumed the demonborn girl was a mistake. The blessing was the only real gift she’d been able to give Corec. It wasn’t the sort of blessing that would turn him into a priest—that had been against the rules for over a millenia and a half, ever since Leonis had somehow become a warden—but it was still dangerously close to crossing the line. Close enough that she hadn’t given Rusol the same blessing.

“He was truly bonding her on his own?” she asked.

“Until he stopped himself. I merely nudged him along. He was strangely resistant to my influence. It took a lot more power than it should have. Was that your doing, too?”

“Each warden has his or her own gift,” she said absently as she considered the ramifications.