Page 251 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
‘What is this?’
Mal merely shrugged, almost bored. ‘Thanatos failed to stop me.’ A faint, cruel smile curved her lips. ‘I made a deal with Lucifer.’ She tilted her head, as though offering a polite courtesy. ‘Do say hello to him for me.’
Another set of chains slithered forth and coiled around Persephone’s throat, tight and unyielding, as the crown upon her head dissolved into nothingness, vanishing like smoke in a dying fire. The chains yanked her from the throne without ceremony, dragging her to her knees as a raw, furious cry tore from her lips.
‘You can’t do this!’
‘I think I can,’ Mal replied, amusement dancing in her voice. ‘And I just did.’
She offered a languid wave, a mockery of farewell, moments before Persephone was wrenched away entirely, ripped from the hall by those merciless chains, her screams splintering through the vast chamber long after she had gone.
Unbothered, Mal climbed the steps and claimed the throne for herself. She sank into it with quiet satisfaction, resting back as though it had always belonged to her, her eyes slipping shut in a moment of pure, indulgent delight. Above, the thunder swelled, louder now, and from the unseen dark, a crown of blackened majesty formed and settled upon her head, curving neatly around her dark horns.
With a mere thought, Mal reached into the realm of shadows and drew Vera and Allegra forth. They appeared at the centre of the great hall, sudden and solid, no longer half-formed things of smoke and dusk but flesh and presence once more. Surprise flashed across their faces as they took in their restored forms.
Vera clutched a child close against her chest, holding them with a fierce, instinctive protectiveness.
Mal had almost forgotten how beautiful they were. Vera bore the same dark skin as Allegra and Dawn, yet where Allegra’s curls were warm brown and Dawn’s hair shone white as frost, Vera’s fell in soft waves of platinum, pale as moonlight caught in silver.
‘Welcome home,’ Mal said, her tone rich with quiet satisfaction.
Allegra stepped forward, glancing about the hall, a crease forming between her brows. ‘How did you bring us back?’ she asked, unease threading her voice. ‘Won’t it be dangerous?’
Mal gave a small, careless shrug. ‘No, I don’t think so. Persephone is gone now. Nothing should harm you, not while I am in charge.’
Vera moved closer, tightening her hold on the baby, confusion clouding her features. She looked as though she might speak, but before any words could form, the great doors of the castle swung open once more.
Thanatos entered, silent as the grave, with Kage and Zagreus at his side.
Thanatos’ dark eyes widened at the sight of Mal upon the throne, as though the very shape of the world had shifted beneath his feet. She could not fathom his surprise. He had known, after all. He had watched her walk this path.
‘You ought not look so surprised,’ Mal said lightly, her voice edged with something sharp and knowing. ‘Or is it fear I smell?’ She drew in a slow breath, as though tasting the air itself, before a soft chuckle slipped from her lips. ‘Perhaps it lingers from my conversation with your father. Could that be it?’
Her gaze lingered on him, deliberate, measuring.
‘Melinoe…’
He moved towards her, step by step, as though approaching something both sacred and ruinous, until at last he sank to his knees before the throne. ‘I’m sorry.’
Mal let out a quiet snort, devoid of warmth. ‘Is that so?’ she mused. ‘And for what, exactly, dear husband? The lies? The betrayal?’ Her head tilted slightly, curiosity laced with cruelty. ‘Tell me, what is it you think you’re apologising for?’
‘Melinoe…’ His voice fractured, fragile as breaking glass. ‘Your eyes…’
A low laugh escaped her, unbothered and unfeeling. She noted then the way the others stared—horror etched plainly across their faces, as though they were witnessing something unholy take shape before them.
‘The Mal you once knew is no longer here,’ she said, hertone calm, almost conversational. ‘She gave herself up for all of you. To allow the God-Killer to rise, and save this world from the gods.’ She paused, lifting one shoulder in a languid, indifferent shrug. ‘But we are still Mal Blackburn. We are still Melinoe.’ A faint, unsettling smile curved her lips. ‘Only…better.’ Her gaze sharpened, something cold and absolute settling within it. ‘And we will do whatever it takes to kill the gods.’
Vera surged forward and stopped only a breath away, planting herself before the throne with defiance trembling through her frame.
‘So you did this?’ she demanded, her voice breaking at its edges.
‘Did what?’ Mal tilted her head, feigning mild curiosity.
‘The babe was born perfect, with no flaws, no complications…’ Vera’s voice faltered; she swallowed hard as tears gathered, bright and helpless, in her purple eyes. Mal watched them with distant fascination, touched—if only faintly—by something that might once have been pity. How fragile they were, these dead witches. How terribly, painfully they felt. ‘And now…now she cannot hear. She’s deaf!’
Mal said nothing at first, glancing down at her nails, as though the matter bored her.
‘Well,’ she began at last, her tone almost thoughtful, ‘I needed to ensure that when the bells of Hell call for her…’ Her eyes snapped back to Vera, her expression sharpening into something cold, something cruel beyond reason, ‘she would not be able tohearthem.’
