Chapter 287 Unadulterated Victory
"My Lord, we've been looking for you. Your urgent attention is needed outside," the warrior said.
"I'll be there in a second," Azriel told him.
He bowed and closed the door as he exited. Azriel, in a flash, closed the space between him and Penelope and pressed a kiss on her lips. It was different from the others he gave her, this one was soft, careful, a promise.
Stepping back from her looked like a real pain to him. "I have to go."
She nodded. "I know."
"Pen," he said. "Say my name, even if it is just once."
"My Lord, I can't…"
"Say it, Pen."
Penelope's tongue was lead in her mouth. "Az…riel." And the name felt strange, foreign.
Azriel smiled. "Good, I want you to say it even better after the war when you are all dressed in white, and I make you my bride in front of the whole world."
There was no time for Penelope to process what he had just said before he exited the chamber.
....
The lands sprawled in an endless stretch, and it all looked so small, easy to crush. People moved around like tiny colourful pins seamstresses hooked on clothes, and as he took a deep inhale, the only scent Aloysius perceived was victory.
Pure unadulterated victory, clamoring for him to claim.
Uriel's horse, a gore beast, whinnied, as impatient as its owner. Aloysius patted the neck of his own horse, and the creature, dead but alive with his aid, turned its head to its owner, the nozzle cut off, and a part of its neck with a deep gaping hole into darkness.
Whenever Aloysius stared at his horse, he marveled at the gifts the Underland had provided him. Marveled at the creativity of his thinking, and the potency of what dark magic can bring.
"Where is she?" Uriel asked, tired. They had been waiting for hours now, and Lydia was yet to arrive.
"She'll be here," Aloysius replied.
Earth was like a gift, and the softness beneath his feet still marveled him when he stepped into the soil. No longer did he have to walk the jarred and sharp terrains of the Underland. Imagine what Zavian had put him through to appreciate even the ground he walked on.
His temper heated like a Goldsmith's furnace like it always did when Zavian crossed his mind. He was going to deal with him in a way that he couldn't imagine.
"What is taking her so long?" Uriel asked.
"We are on earth, Uriel," Aloysius used the tone he usually did when he needed Uriel to shut up. "We aren't here as shadows, or traveling through dreams. We are here, in the flesh, without the portal. We've paved our own way to be here, and as long as that is possible, Lydia can take days to get here and we would wait, because we have defeated so many impossibles, and we have gotten here through patience. So, wait son."
And Uriel said not a word of grumble or complaint after.
He was on the outskirts of Selesee, skirting just the borders. But Uriel had been right, Lydia should have arrived already.
As if hearing his thoughts, horses neighed close by. Uriel seized the reins of his own horse as the beast made a roaring noise strange to that of a horse.
Lydia appeared in sight, and with Aaron and the Duchess in tow. Aloysius had already dismounted his horse, and Lydia barely waited for hers to stop when she threw herself down and ran into Aloysius's arms with the agility of youth.
"I am so glad to see you," Lydia said.
"My wife," Aloysius grinned. "I can't believe I would get to hold you again."
She smiled at him and looked at Uriel, who also moved in to hug her. They weren't shadows and smokes anymore.
. Her husband and her son, and finally, she had her family back once again.
Lydia broke the hug around her son as Aaron stepped forward. He went on one knee before Aloysius and bent his head, subservient.
"All my men and Darstun's are at your command, my King," Aaron said.
"You are Jasmine's father." A statement from Aloysius.
Aaron's body tensed, his daughter's name gripping him with pain. Aloysius loved the grief. Revenge accompanied it, and that kind of spirit would boost their victory in the war.
"Lydia has told me how much you have helped us, I would repay you in kind," Aloysius promised.
Aaron rose at that. "Thank you, my King."
Behind Aaron, the sun sank into the hills, and the certainty of their conquest drew closer. He was ready, and not a single doubt he was going to win.
….
"Soldiers have been spotted marching down from Selesee," Azriel said as he entered the meeting room. The Dukes and governors huddled their chairs close together, offering themselves some sense of protection.
"And all our men ready?" Zavian asked, taking deep breaths as he looked at the map where some of the men were stationed. Attacking Selesee's men first would give them an upper hand.
"All at position," Azriel confirmed.
"Freya," Zavian called to his sister standing behind him. "The humans?"
Freya tilted her head in the direction of the east windows. From below, terrified chatters and screams rose, the footsteps of hundreds of humans being hoarded into the secret protection chambers beneath the castle. The tunnels of chambers wove on and on, a labyrinth built by the first-generation demons. Some humans had been sent over to Azriel's, some to each of the Dukes, and to every Governor. Every house of every noble demon was constructed as such.
"Humans and the demon womenfolk have all been taken care of," Freya confirmed.
"And what about us?" The Duke of Grenao asked.
Zavian folded his arms over his armour. "Aren't you all in this room capable of holding swords?"
When Zavian saw the frightened look on their faces, Azriel's silent chuckles rang next to him. The humour in the chaos, so they wouldn't all run crazy together.
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