Chapter 196: Yes
Luceriel’s POV
His heart betrayed him immediately as soon as he heard that.
He had seen Pazuzu a hundred times by now, had been pinned to bookshelves by him, had held a blade to his throat and been slammed against a wall in return. None of that had prepared him for this.
Pazuzu wore deep violet, a robe that shifted between purple and black depending on how the light struck it, threaded through with something that caught the firelight and scattered it so that he seemed faintly luminous with every step he took.
His dark violet hair had been left loose, falling past his shoulders, and the purple gems at his ears glittered each time a firework burst overhead. He looked less like a demon prince walking toward an altar and more like something that had stepped directly out of a painting.
He looks ethereal. The most beautiful man he had ever seen.
Luceriel’s pulse climbed and would not come back down. His chest felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with the curse behind his eyes, and something turned over low in his stomach, unfamiliar and unwelcome and entirely beyond his ability to name.
He did not know what this feeling was. He only knew he did not want anyone in this courtyard to see it on his face.
What would his brothers think of him? how would they even view him knowing the kind of thoughts going through his head?
Yet as Pazuzu drew closer, his heart wouldn’t stop pounding hard in his chest.
Finally, when Pazuzu reached the altar, he looked at him, and smiled.
Luceriel frowned and looked immediately away.
This was just a rushed wedding that needed to happen because of the demon king, he repeatedly told himself.
"Late to your own wedding," Sariel muttered. "How very promising."
"I was arranging a gift," Pazuzu said pleasantly. "Unlike you, brother-in-law, I do not arrive at occasions empty-handed and full of opinions."
Sariel opened his mouth to speak but, Pazuzu had already turned away from him.
"Raizel," Pazuzu said instead, inclining his head toward the Sin of Greed. "The robe. Your work?"
Raizel’s fan stopped mid-motion. "It is."
"Then you have my genuine thanks. It is exquisite." He let his eyes travel over the emerald silk and the crimson phoenix, slow enough that Luceriel felt heat crawl up the back of his neck. "You have made him look like something out of legend, which is fitting, since he has always behaved as though he were one."
"I like him," Raizel announced to nobody in particular, snapping the fan open again. "I have decided. I like him. I don’t care if he is the demon prince but I like him already.’’
"You like anyone who compliments your embroidery," Taizel said.
"That is precisely correct, and I make no apology for it."
"The gift," Pazuzu said, and raised one hand.
Two figures stepped forward out of the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, and the temperature of the entire gathering changed in an instant.
Solmira and Elios.
"Absolutely not," Lumiel said, his hand going straight to his sword.
"You brought the deities here?" Uriel was on his feet. "Into Verolona, on this night, hours before Draca arrives?"
"Get them out," Sariel snarled. "Get them out of this kingdom before I remove them myself."
"They locked us in the dark for centuries," Taizel said quietly, and there was nothing lazy in his voice now. "You would have them stand at this altar?"
Elios said nothing at all. Solmira lifted her chin and met every hostile stare without flinching.
"Stop." Seraphel stepped forward into the middle of it, one hand raised. "All of you, stop."
"Seraphel—"
"I have lived through this already," he said. "I watched every one of you fight Draca separately and lose, and I watched you die doing it. Solmira and Elios were there at the end. They threw themselves in front of a strike meant for me, and they were thrown across a battlefield for their trouble." He looked around at each of them in turn. "I do not care what they did to you centuries ago. I care that we are still standing when the sun comes up. We need them. That is all there is to it."
Nobody answered him.
"He is correct," Pazuzu said. "And they are bound to my terms, not to Elysium’s. They will do as they are told. We have a common enemy right now and we need all the help we could get instead of arguing repeatedly.’’
Anomas cleared his throat from beside the altar.
"The auspicious hour has arrived," he said. "If this is to be done, it must be done now."
The courtyard fell quiet. The music died away into nothing. Even Sariel stopped talking.
Luceriel turned to face Pazuzu fully for the first time since he had landed.
Anomas produced a length of red silk cord and a thin blade, laying both across the altar stone between them. "The binding of souls is not a vow," he said. "It is a contract written in blood and honored by the abyss and the heavens alike. Once spoken, it cannot be undone by either party, by death, or by time itself." He looked between them both. "Slit your palms."
Luceriel took the blade first. He drew it across his own palm without hesitation, feeling the sting bloom bright and clean, and watched dark red well up along the line.
Pazuzu took the blade from him, and their fingers brushed as he did. He cut his own palm in one smooth motion, and where Luceriel’s blood ran red, Pazuzu’s ran darker, almost black in the firelight.
Then Pazuzu held out his bleeding hand, palm up, and waited.
"Well, my darling," he said softly, and for once there was nothing mocking in it at all. "Are you ready to be mine?"
Luceriel stared into Pazuzu’s eyes for a moment knowing that by doing this, it would mean he is forever bonded to the demon prince.
He heaved a deep sigh, trying not to look into anyone’s eyes before answering. ’’yes.’’