"All to make my reincarnation possible?!" Sheba smashed the crimson vase on the table against the wall, fury blazing in every movement.
"You three have greatly disappointed me. You are my most trusted witches—how could you do this to me?!" Her voice carried the raw ache she felt, the bitter taste that clung to her throat.
"Please, calm your fury, Your Supremacy," Nyx said from where the three of them knelt, their faces pressed into the cold marble floor.
"Do not dare ask me to calm my fury, Nyx! You should have used your powerful discernment and ancient knowing to find out that there was no way I would have agreed to this. I would rather rot in that amulet than accept being mated to Lucifer. What were you thinking?!" Sheba's words cut like a blade.
"It breaks my heart that you three resorted to such unscrupulous measures to bring about my reincarnation. Was there truly no other way, or were you bent on ruining my life forever?!" Her shout rent the air.
"And you, Shyla—" Sheba called, her tone sharp as a prosecutor's.
Shyla felt her heart sink at the name echoing through the hall. "Your Supremacy?" she murmured.
"Why did you not use your loom-breaking to stop Lucifer from marking me? It would have only taken a thought. Why did you not do it?!" Sheba demanded.
Shyla searched for words. Sheba was right: it would only have taken a thought to stop Lucifer from marking her. But why hadn't she?
Loom-breaking was her core strength. Fate was a loom; powerful wills wove threads, and each thread was a should-happen. Her power allowed her to cut those threads freely, though she suffered backlash when she severed the major ones—defeating death, preventing birth, and most especially, breaking a deal with the devil. Lucifer would not be patient enough to let her endure the consequences; he would kill her himself.
That did not mean she would not be willing to sacrifice her life for Sheba. She simply hadn't chosen to act against the agreement they had struck with Lucifer. She knew how much he had invested in protecting the Enchantress Supreme until she fully awoke. Shyla loved her with an earnestness that made her decision painful; stopping Lucifer from marking Sheba would have meant cutting two fate-threads: the fulfillment of their agreement with Lucifer and the inevitable love meant to last forever. The backlash would have cost her life and brought major damage across the witch race—too devastating to bear.
"It is my fault, Your Supremacy," Denna interrupted swiftly. "I made the deal with Lucifer. I agreed to his condition alone. Do not blame my sisters. I did not consult them; I acted by myself. Please punish me duly."
Sheba forced out a bitter laugh. "Punish you duly? Of what use would punishment be?" Her sorrowful gaze fell on the pitiful, bowing figure before her. She read their minds in turn and realized they were desperately searching for the right words, trying not to inflame her anger further.
They had no excuse that could grant pardon for what they did. But the truth remained: that deal with Lucifer had been the only way to reincarnate her in this generation. Throughout past ages they had tried everything. Moist was far more powerful than they were; on their own they could not have retrieved the amulet from her. Lucifer's help had been essential, he single-handedly took the amulet from Moist, and because of him she now stood before them. They could not deny that fact, no matter how much they tried.
The Enchantress Supreme might be furious now, but this had been the only way. Even if given another chance, they would make the same choice again.
"The deed has already been done; the damage is done. What I need from you three now is a solution. I cannot live as Lucifer's mate—never!" Sheba shook her head, dread at the thought writ across her face. "I must find a way out of this, and you three are going to help me."
"I might have an idea already, Your Supremacy," Denna began, lifting her face as an evil smile flashed across it.
"Speak," Sheba said, hope flickering.
"Kill Lucifer."
"What?!" Sheba recoiled.
"Yes, Your Supremacy," Denna said, steady. "Kill him and the mating mark will vanish, along with his claim over you. The demon mating mark fades only if the demon who marked you dies. Nothing else can free you—not even the demon himself."
"Are you sure?" Sheba's pulse surged. "Is there no way to make him unmark me?" She searched Denna's eyes for some hope, but received only a firm, resounding "No."
"Once a demon marks his mate, and that mate is recognized by the demon's mate-conscience, there is no unmarking. For eternity that mate belongs to the demon, bound to their intimacy until death parts them. As it stands now, Lucifer can no longer harbor affection for anyone else, and neither can you. You bear his teeth mark, and until he is dead and gone, both of you are bound, inseparable, roped together by threads of romance."
"This is a nightmare!" Sheba's heart pounded.
"Killing Lucifer would throw the demon realm off balance. It would incite a war!"
"Would it be better to remain bound to him forever?" Denna tilted her head. "I know being Lucifer's mate horrifies you, Your Supremacy. That is precisely why you must do the necessary. You cannot remain subject to Lucifer's claim for eternity."
"You make it sound too easy, Denna." Nyx raised her face. "He is still the Demon Lord. Do you think the demons would sit back and watch their lord die?"
"Well, we will not sit back and watch our Enchantress Supreme remain submissive beneath his claim. Besides, the Enchantress Supreme has always wanted to conquer all races. I believe this is the right moment to begin. Killing Lucifer to break the mate-bond would not sound too alarming to other races. They would see a personal grudge, not expect the Enchantress Supreme to continue hunting them one by one."
"I still maintain this is too rash." Nyx shook her head. "Your Supremacy," she turned to Sheba, "you must think this through before deciding. Taking out a race ruler is no small feat, much less killing the ruler of the most formidable race. You have just returned; our coven is not restored to full glory. Your grudge with Goddess Moist and the human race has not been settled. Brewing another grievance or starting another war would be unwise. I already see this as a very bad idea. Please consider it deeply." She bowed deeply after she finished.
Denna rolled her eyes. She could not understand Nyx's fear. They were the witch race, after all. No way would the demons defeat them in a war. Besides, she did not believe a war would happen—Lucifer loved the Enchantress Supreme too much to allow his race to go to war over her. She was certain he would use his last breath to order his armies not to attack her, even if she killed him in the most ruthless way.
Sheba heard the thought and cooled instantly. She agreed that the witches could wage war, but she did not believe Lucifer loved her. She knew him too well to entertain such a notion. He was a ruthless, monstrous being who seemed to take joy in causing her pain. This, she suspected, was payback—punishment for past grievances, for her relentless attempts to encroach upon the demon realm. He relished seeing her in torment. Love could not exist between them; they hated each other with a heat that was almost its own kind of intimacy.
She was about to speak again when she noticed Shyla had been silent for some time. That might be normal as she barely spoke, but their current topic needed voice—Shyla had to offer her opinion.
"Do you not have anything to say, Shyla?" Sheba called, unwilling to wait.
"Nothing at all, Your Supremacy," Shyla answered.
Doubting her, Sheba reached for Shyla's thoughts but found only emptiness—no counsel, no commentary. Shyla was absent from the discussion entirely.
"Typical," Sheba sighed, disappointment heavy in her voice. A migraine was coming; she needed rest.
"This meeting is adjourned. Handle the banquet preparations properly—nothing short of magnificence." Sheba didn't wait for a reply; she walked out, certain they had heard her. She needed sleep.
In her inner chambers she fell into bed without hesitation. Her gaze lingered on the green fire lit black stone ceiling, breath steady as she tried to empty her mind of the thoughts crowding it. Minutes later she closed her eyes and called for sleep. The next second, another presence entered the room. She snapped her eyes open and sprang up, slipping—but strong, muscled arms caught her.
He pulled her close and held her, his ruby eyes locking onto her emerald ones.
Sheba's muscles went taut, but she kept herself composed. After long seconds of intense eye contact he leaned in and greeted her lips with heat.