Villainous [Wattys 2021 Shortlist]

41: Throne of Bones

Delilah's arm and shoulder throbbed terribly where the throwing stars had been removed, but apart from that and general bumps and bruises, she was all right. Dante had ordered her to go to the healers' quarters and then return to the Grand Hall. His court was assembling.

The guards had captured a prisoner, and Dante wanted to question him in front of all of them.

Safir had been rushed to the infirmary, and Delilah hoped he'd live. But there were more pressing matters to attend to now - and she had a dress that she'd been saving specifically for a special occasion, after ordering the seamstresses to make it. Well, the first proper skirmish between the nations was special enough for her, so she glided towards the hall in her finery with her head held high.

The entire room full of people went silent when Delilah walked in.

Her black dress was magnificent. It clung to her body from the high neckline to the hem that trailed along the floor. The huge sleeves resembled the wings of a bird, layers of slashed, tattered fabric rippling around her as she raised her arms. Her eyes and lips had been darkened; a cold tiara of silver sat on her head. The gown was shot through with silver and blue so that when she walked, she looked like a black-and-blue fire, a ball of flames. As Dante's eyes widened, she smirked and tugged up the hood to show him - to show all of them - how it had been fashioned.

The screaming head of a bird, with a hooked beak.

Delilah was the Black Phoenix of Vale.

Dante recovered swiftly and bowed - actually bowed - to her. He weaved his way through the gaping courtesans, as if their earlier argument hadn't happened. Of course. In here they had to maintain a united front, they had to act fiercely loyal to each other, even if it wasn't true.

"Well met, my Lieutenant." His eyes roved shamelessly up and down her body, and she couldn't stop her cheeks from burning. This is an act, she reminded herself. He's acting. To fool his court.

"It pleases me to see you wear the colours of this country."

"Not only that," she said, extending her hand for him to kiss - she might as well take advantage of this new attitude of his, "I am Vale's most revered monster."

"Indeed." Dante's murmur was hot against her fingers. He straightened up and smoothed the hood back to view her face, then brushed some locks of hair out of the way - obviously aware of the hungry eyes of the whole room fixed on them still. "But I wouldn't phrase it that way. You are Vale's powerhouse, and you are worshipped." He turned swiftly, practically pulling her with him and into full view of the court. "Bow to her."

Hawk, who was leaning against a pillar, folded his arms. He looked livid.

Delilah tried to hold in her shiver of delight at those words, and spoken by that commanding voice - but no one in the room moved. They looked uncertain, wary, confused.

"Bow to my Lieutenant, or face her wrath." Dante's voice shook the very foundations of the mountain.

Slowly, everyone in the room sank to their knees and lowered their heads.

Until Delilah and Dante, a king and queen of darkness, were the only ones who remained, towering over the rest.

Dante began to stride towards his throne and she hurried after him. They ascended the dais and Dante slumped into his seat, while she stood to one side. He seemed content to watch the bowed men for a few more minutes, before finally drawling, "You can get up now. You all bore me. Captain Hawk, bring the prisoner."

Once again, Delilah had stolen what should have been Hawk's shining moment, and she doubted he'd let it slide this time. But the satisfaction coursing through her was worth it.