Villainous [Wattys 2021 Shortlist]

MALEVOLENT 3: Council

"Climb. Now."

A spear jabbed at her back and she stumbled up the first few steps. They were dry and sun-baked against her cracked, painful feet. Her stomach ached with hunger but she doubted she was getting food any time soon. The soldiers formed a tight circle around her, herding her up the long staircase towards the palace made entirely of white stone at the top.

Delilah was covered in sweat and groaning by the time she reached it, seeing the domed roof and encircling pillars for the first time. The stone was almost unnaturally pristine, as if it had been carved by a god and then left untouched ever since.

She knew doom awaited her inside.

Every step trembled, and she couldn't be bothered to try to look fierce or imposing as the guards pushed her inside and she faced the Council.

Kai sat at the round table in the centre, directly opposite the entrance she passed through, wearing ornate gold and green robes that pooled at his feet like emeralds. The bruises she and Dante had given him so long ago had healed, and he wore his long, shiny black hair tied back from his face, which was unreadable. Delilah remembered Hawk had killed his mother in this very room, and wondered what he was currently feeling.

Marko, annoyingly normal, stood with his hands resting against his chair and seemed unable to look at her.

The third occupant, a tall woman with long, dark hair, glowed like a star in a white and blue dress.

"Daughter," Mala Starcatcher of Anloch whispered.

Mother.

Alive.

Delilah's jaw was locked. A guard shoved her into a seat and before she could move a heavy shackle descended towards her throat. She balked, but the metal closed around her neck before she could escape, cruelly catching some of her hair. She swallowed and her throat bobbed against it.

A chain was attached to this new shackle, held by the largest guard. So I've been leashed like a dog.

The three Council members watched her, as if waiting for her temper to fire up, but Delilah did not protest.

"So how are you going to kill me?" she croaked, when she couldn't bear the silence or the staring eyes for much longer.

"You broke out of Goriath," Marko said. "Goriath."

Delilah forced herself to give him a faint smile, although it was a poor substitute for the scathing or simpering response she might have come up with in the past.

"Where is the fourth?" Mala asked. "Bring him in so we can start the discussion. Let's end this once and for all."

"He can bring himself in," said a voice from the next room.

Delilah's words to Hawk echoed in her ears. Dante is dead, your king is dead, the Night Bringer is dead. Ever since she'd spoken them aloud, the horror of what that truly meant had been washing over her. Dante, the unstoppable, legendary warlord king, had been slain on that battlefield, and she had refused to think about it until she'd said it to Hawk. Dante, who she'd schemed against and thought about killing countless times. Dante, who had kissed her on the mountaintop. She'd thought about Hawk, Kaya and Nell during her imprisonment, but thoughts of Dante had just hurt too much, so she'd tried to push him out of her mind.

The world seemed to be falling apart around her as Dante Vallahan sauntered out of an archway.

Her head was reeling as she took him in. No shackles. Pale skin, dark hair. Clothed in smart black, as always. Hands clasped behind his back, walking upright, no sign of a limp.