The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 18: Saviours: Section V: Ashtaroth

Ashtaroth: The Palace: Qemassen

It must be dire news indeed if Hima had bothered to call Ashtaroth to her meeting. So far, almost every scrap of good news coming out of the east had been relayed to Ashtaroth by his guards. When Hima visited, she only wanted to talk about mundane nonsense like the weather or the latest Cheti-related gossip. It was as though Qirani had told her that Ashtaroth couldn't cope with anything more serious. And his Lora slave, Eremus, followed him everywhere, no doubt at Hima's command.

Dampness tickled his back as though his wound was weeping into his bandage again. It was a clammy reminder of his weakness, making him feel like an oozing, creeping thing. And hadn't Lilit mentioned a serpent? Perhaps Ashtaroth was shedding his skin.

Hima might be right not to share her news with him.

Ashtaroth glared across Hima's finely polished table into those gold eyes of hers that so mirrored his own. Her home served as her council chambers today, the brilliant orange of her walls giving the sharp contours of her face a warm cast. Without Aurelius here to rule as king, she must be basking in newfound power.

Hima the lion.

From an adjoining room, Hiram and Reshith screeched in childish glee. Ashtaroth couldn't help but turn at the sound—it'd been so long since he'd been allowed to see his nephews.

Tears coming, Ashtaroth drummed his nails on the table to distract himself from crying. With Eaflied and Bree to Ashtaroth's left, Qwella and Hima across from him, and Titrit to Ashtaroth's right, he wasn't going to let himself be disgraced again.

Besides, here he sat, the only man. A madman and his sisters.

Ashtaroth grimaced at Bree. She was only a sister by a cruel twist of fate.

Bree stared back, watching him emotionlessly from behind her thick black lashes.

"I'm prettier anyway, don't you think?" Lilit leaned against his chair and laid her hand flat against his bandaged back.

Ashtaroth winced in anticipation of the pain, but Lilit's stroke numbed rather than stung this time. Ever since she'd shown him the vision of Samelqo murdering Dannae—murdering her—things had been different between them. Lilit had grown softer and gentler.

Across from him, Qwella had distracted Bree with a piece of trivia, and the two of them were now chatting away.

"Are they friends now, Bree and my sister?" Ashtaroth asked Lilit as discretely as he could.

The demon gave one of her low purrs, considering. "I don't think that one has many friends, especially not at this table."

Ashtaroth frowned. "What one?"

Lilit pointed a long finger toward Bree. His heart, however briefly, tightened with guilt. Was he judging the Feislandat too harshly?

Then he remembered her cruel kiss in the garden and the feigned interest she'd shown him, just to taunt Aurelius. Ashtaroth had been her plaything.

Let Bree remain friendless. Surely Aurelius's attentions were enough for her.

"I didn't bring you here to trade gossip," Hima announced loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "Your husbands and keepers no doubt expect very little from you, but I know better, and it is better your city needs now. I'll say it plain. The Lora sail for Qemassen. In fact, it may be a matter of days before they're here."

Ashtaroth's heart seemed to stop. He grabbed the arm of his chair. "But Qorbon chased them north. They can't be coming." He rubbed his hand back and forth over his hand rest. "Aurelius is days away."