Chương 66: A Match Made in Hell

The next morning I came to the Justicier headquarters to meet Eulalie — and a fat lizard woman named Jeanine, in a dark pink dress, who was apparently hell's foremost authority on weddings. Jeanine drilled me on the rites for hours. Demon wedding ceremonies were bizarre, and in several places frankly disgusting, and I was exhausted by the end of it. But I was also good at this. If there was one thing the old Drizella had been good for, it was memorizing vast quantities of pointless ceremony.

Change the flowers to bloodsnails, the cake to a small sacrificed animal, add a chanting skeleton, and it was practically the same thing. While Jeanine handled the rites, Eulalie was tasked with making sure everything else went smoothly. She treated the wedding as simply another Justicier operation that needed to be carried out flawlessly. According to her, this political marriage was for my benefit, but also for Azearothiel, who had arranged the whole thing with his own interests in mind.

That fact made me rather angry — This marriage had been my demand of him!

"In this wedding," Eulalie explained, "Azearothiel's interests and your own are exactly aligned."

"How come?" I asked.

"How are our interests the same?"

"Chin," commanded Jeanine. I lifted my chin. Jeanine looked at me from one side, then the other.

"Unremarkable chin…" she murmured, and wrote in her little book.

"You are Azearothiel's servant," Eulalie explained.

"You are bound to him by right. It is not unlike family. By marrying you into a powerful and influential noble house, he solidifies his political alliances. And that was more or less your demand, wasn't it? An influential, powerful house—plus the handsome bit. Though, as it happens, most bloodline demons are considered handsome." It was… a logical explanation. I still felt very much cheated.

"Move your arm up. No—the left arm!" Jeanine barked, taking another measurement.

"And of course," Eulalie continued, "the wedding itself is an opportunity for you to improve your own standing. High society in Hell is a battlefield of its own. Today, you will be meeting the most elite demons in the realm. It is your chance to forge personal alliances, and secure your own status independently of Azearothiel." Oh, this sounded perfectly like something Mother would have said.

"Stand straight!" commanded Jeanine. I did, and Jeanine took measurements around me.

"Small chest…" she murmured, and made a note of it.

"Hey!"

"And these days," Eulalie went on, "the bloodsnail portion of the sacred rites has been shortened significantly, and there is no human sacrifice at all. As efforts go, there is nothing very taxing in it."

"Plain features…" Jeanine murmured to herself.

"Turn around!"

"Do you…" I began, in a low voice.

"Might I know who I am marrying?" I had asked that question many times, and not once had I got an answer, so I was not expecting much.

"Unfortunately not," said Eulalie.

"There is some secrecy to it. But I am almost certain I know which house — the house of the high demon Kre'shov, ruler of the city of Valkat."

"I see," I said. That… was something.

"Please explain more."

"Valkat is a large city," Eulalie began, "about the size of Mithatylil, some hundred miles to the south-east. Azearothiel and Kre'shov are allies, but their relations of late have been less than ideal, and Kre'shov's armies are powerful. It makes sense for Azearothiel to marry his important bloodline servant to one of Kre'shov's own."

"Well, that narrows it down, I'll say. How many children does he have? Five at most?"

"About a hundred and twenty offspring, counting children and grandchildren and further down," said Eulalie, "but only some thirty of them already live in Mithatylil. Azearothiel would not allow you to move to another city, and it would not be convenient for them to move here. Of those thirty, about half are male, and not all of marrying age. But you really should not fret about it. In a few hours you will know for yourself."

"Yes… I know," I mumbled. I was simply anxious about the whole event, and not knowing what to expect made it all the worse.

"Not revealing the identities of groom and bride until the ceremony is a common tradition," Eulalie added.

"It is considered good luck for the marriage. And there is an entertaining element to it: at the wedding, most of the guests from each side will learn who the other is, and keep it from the couple. It amuses a guest to be privy to such a vital secret while the bride and groom remain completely in the dark."

"That is simply cruel!" I remarked.

"It will be fine," said Eulalie, pressing a skeleton hand to mine.

"And it will be over soon enough. Besides, I hear most of Kre'shov's princes are blond and pretty." Eulalie was trying to cheer me up, and it worked, to an extent. I took a long breath and decided to stop fretting about it. I would go to the wedding and be magnificent at it.

"Feet…" Jeanine looked down at my feet, and paused." Very large feet," she added to the note.

"Hey!" I snapped at the lizard lady.

"Do you mind not insulting me on my wedding day?"

"Poor temperament…" she added to her note.

"But do not worry. I have had far worse." Then Jeanine clapped her hands twice, and the door opened, and two more lizard ladies in horrible pink dresses came into the room, each carrying two large bags. They set upon me without a word of warning. I got out perhaps half of a protest before my uniform was open at the collar and going down my arms. Then a bag came open and the dress unrolled from it — deep bruise-purple, low at the neck, the shoulders coming to points and fine black thorns of beadwork down the bodice.

Not modest, but modest enough. It was a vicious, beautiful dress, and I loved it. When they had done, one of the assistants dragged over a mirror taller than I was and set it in front of me.

"I'm pretty!" I said, beaming.

"Not until we do your face, you're not," scoffed Jeanine, and steered me into a chair. All three of them fell on me at once — pinching, prodding, dusting, a dizzying flurry of brushes and sponges. This wasn't the simple rouge and rice powder I was used to from the human world. They applied crushed, glowing pink crystals to my cheeks and a dark, shimmering dust to my eyelids. Then Jeanine opened a small black box and lifted out a pair of black curly horns, shiny and sharp.

"Is this…?" I asked.

"Would you have me send you hornless to a demon wedding?" She painted the base of each one with a thick, sour-smelling glue, set them against my head, and held them for a long, long minute, then pulled hard enough to rock my whole head, nodded once, and stepped back. Then they opened another box and hung jewellery on me: a necklace, bracelets at both wrists, drops at my ears, and a choker set high on my throat.

All of it metal — little skulls and fine bones and small sharp things, with crystals glimmering between them. They brought the mirror in front of me again, and I gaped. Yes, I still had a large nose. I still had the heavy chin and the small close-set eyes. But the paint had somehow softened all of it just enough, and I was prettier than I could ever remember being. With the horns, and the dress, and the jewellery, I was not ugly. Not even close. I was a demoness — and a stunning one at that.

And in that moment the worry went quiet. I did not know who my husband was, no. But I was a beautiful bride on an important day, and it was going to come out well. I was truly happy, right then. I felt a tear coming up, and held it back, because it would ruin Jeanine's work and that would upset her. And I did not want to upset her. I liked her enormously now. She was a true magician.

"What do you think?" she asked, looking rather smug.

"I… I…" I was lost for words.

"Oh, thank you." I felt bony fingers close over mine. Eulalie looked at me and nodded.

"I think you are ready." The door opened again and, to my delight, Henriette and Ur stepped in, escorted by two apparitors. Henriette wore a lovely, simple gown of deep crimson silk, while Ur had been put into a little dark coat with brass buttons. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. I stood up and did a slow half-spin to show myself off.

"Wow!" Henriette exclaimed, her whole face lifting.

"You look amazing!" Ur looked at me and gave a short nod of approval.

"Thank you," I said.

"You both look very fine yourselves."

"Let us go," said Eulalie. We went down. Outside, Augustin was waiting for us with a couple of apparitors, and beside him a fancy Vertebus, with only two slabs, and gilded rails running along both sides. We stepped on, and the thing began to move, fast. And suddenly I was nervous again. This was it. I was going to my wedding. This thing — it was happening right now. What if I made a mess of the ceremony? What if I fell, or the snail slipped out of my hand? Or I split the collarbone unevenly?

Or my husband turned out to be old and ugly, and I hit him? Henriette, guessing at my face, took my hand and smiled at me. And it helped. We went up through the terraces, past a square where a crowd turned to watch, and came to a huge fine house, one of the largest in the city. It was surrounded by expansive, manicured gardens, currently swarming with elegant guests and heavily armed guards.

"Remember," Eulalie told me as we entered the garden, "it is the custom for the bride to move about the grounds before the ceremony and greet the guests. No one party may keep you long — a friend who holds the bride too long robs the other guests of their turn, and it is noticed. So for now it is best that we leave you to it."

"Oh… that's right," I said. Eulalie gave Henriette a pointed look, and the girl nodded in understanding. Henriette caught both of my hands in hers and squeezed.

"You are going to do beautifully. I just know it!" Then, she snatched Ur's hand, pointed excitedly toward the sprawling banquet pavilion, and the two of them bolted for the food. Eulalie gave me one last nod and was gone as well. And now I was alone. Alone and frightened at my own wedding, while dozens of aristocratic guests began to turn their heads, locking their eyes onto me like hawks spotting a field mouse. Not a moment later, a fat demon approached me.

"Vrax," he said, offering his hand.

"Third son of the high demon Mal'goth. I am to congratulate you."

"Thank you, sir," I said politely.

"My own firstborn," he continued, "is to be married himself. To a demoness of the house of Ith'raen, no less — a very old line, very well placed. Though she hasn't yet killed an important tyrant in the human realm." He barked out a laugh, thoroughly amused by his own joke.

"Oh, is that so," I forced a tight smile. He leaned in close.

"Do you have any plans to strike again?" he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Rumor has it you've targeted the young heir to Napoleon's throne."

"I certainly shall not—" Before I could finish, two more demons swooped in, effectively shoving Vrax aside. The fat demon scowled.

"It seems our time is short. Do contact me, I'd be absolutely delighted to discuss matters over dinner…"

"Lord Ve'serph and Lady Rensha," they announced themselves. They congratulated me, then described at length how important their house was, and then brazenly tried to pry into the various bloody rumors surrounding my reputation. After that it was all a blur of fat important demon faces, and some humans and skeletons. I truly lost count. Each of them congratulated me, talked about themselves, made some joke or witty remark that was entirely lost on me, and then tried to interrogate me in the short time they had.

It was horribly annoying, and after an hour of it I wanted nothing in the world so much as to pluck the stupid horns off their heads. Then I noticed a shift in the crowd — guests turning, stepping aside, rearranging themselves to clear a path. A moment later, I saw why. Azearothiel was coming towards me, with Zylil beside him and two more demons I had not met.

"Congratulations on your wedding," he said, offering a polite smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. It is your wedding more than mine, I wanted to say. I smiled and nodded instead.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"I shall certainly look as though I am," I said, keeping the smile.

"Yes," he said.

"You will." He paused, assessing me.

"I have got you a husband of good standing," he said after a while.

"In truth, it was not a difficult bargain to strike. Because of your rare bloodline, even your messy incident with Napoleon didn't diminish your value. If anything, it made you more of a fascinating curiosity to the high houses. This marriage places you well on the board. If you play it properly, and if there is any ambition for power in you, you may go far."

"I see…" I was not about to thank him, or anything of that sort. But I did like what he said. I did want power. After Azearothiel moved on, I was subjected to yet another wave of boring guests, until a hand landed on my shoulder and a voice behind me said, "Finally!" I turned. It was Za'rynn, and I was actually really glad to see her.

"By Jove," she sighed.

"You are hard to get hold of this evening. Love the horns, by the way. You should totally keep wearing them afterwards."

"I will pass," I said.

"Oh, you won't believe what I have had to go through here! Just standing about, entertaining all these horrible demons for hours no end!"

"That is because you are doing the whole bride business wrong," she said with a laugh.

"You are not meant to simply stand here being an easy mark for every bore in the garden. It is much smarter to drift around the edges of the venue. For example, near that grove of weeping trees over there." She pointed.

"Not so far away that it looks like you're trying to escape, but far enough that finding you is work." That was… really clever! I felt stupid for not having thought of it myself.

"And do you know who your husband is yet?" Za'rynn asked.

"Oh no, and I really could not care less at this point!"

"Good," Za'rynn said, smiling at me.

"Because when you do find out, it will be so funny."

"Hey!" I said.

"What… what will be funny?"

"Sorry, you know the custom. I can't keep you too long. Bye!" Za'rynn left, happy and infuriating, and in her wake I had just enough room to execute a clever manoeuvre: a brisk walk to the food table, a turn around a particularly wide demoness, and then behind the hedge — yes! I made it. For the first time that evening, nobody was looking at me. Freedom at last! Simply walking alone in the quiet instantly improved my mood.

It really was a gorgeous night, and the gardens were breathtaking, filled with luminescent nocturnal blooms and silver-leafed vines creeping up the stone trellises. If I just had a moment to myself, I could actually enjoy it. I found a secluded stone bridge spanning a gently trickling stream. Sitting on the low parapet, listening to the water bubbling below me, it was finally peaceful and quiet. Then a soft, terribly familiar voice spoke right beside my ear.

"Congratulations." Malakarthor's icy hand clamped down firmly onto my shoulder. I gasped, instantly jerking away and spinning around to face him.

"You…" I said, and my voice was shaking.

"Why… why are you here?"

"Well, as it happens," Malakarthor said, in a bored tone, "my seventh son is married to Kre'shov's second daughter, and I have a great deal of productive business with him. It astonished me that he did not call the whole thing off, after hearing of your… meddling in the human world. But," he sighed, "it is politics, you see. And now we are all one big family."

"So you aren't going to throttle me this time?" I asked, my heart pounding.

"Oh, no," he said, amused.

"It is bad luck to throttle a bride at her wedding. Believe me. I know it at first hand."

"What do you want with me?"

"Only to congratulate you. Simply that," he said, pleasantly.

"Oh — and perhaps to share a little intelligence I have lately come by, which may interest you." He leaned in and whispered into my ear.

"I have sources in heaven," he said, barely audible.

"The angels are furious with you. They have advanced the schedule of the extermination, by a very great deal. They will attack Mithatylil soon, and they will be generous with the force they bring. Some may even go for the demons of the upper city. Who knows? Discipline is not the exorcists' strong suit, once they are let loose."

"They can do as they please!" I heard myself say.

"I care not!"

"Oh, that's right," he whispered.

"You are such a brave girl, after all. But know that not even your own house will be safe for you. My advice: when they come, go to the palace and hide in Azearothiel's lap where it is safe, close your eyes, and picture your new friends in the lower city being slaughtered because of you, and breathe out in relief, because you know that you are safe." Malakarthor was finished. He drew back and looked at me with a thoroughly satisfied face. I took a long breath and smoothed my dress. This… this was stupid.

Malakarthor could not hurt me here, not now, and I would not be intimidated.

"Is it the other way round?" I asked him, looking him straight in the eye, as calmly as I could manage.

"What is?"

"Is it bad luck for a bride to throttle her guests at her wedding?"

"You are weak," he spat, "and ignorant in the arcane ways. And your day will come swiftly." He spread his white wings and flew, and I was left there, rattled and shaking in spite of myself. I felt hot tears prickling at the corners of my eyes again, but I angrily blinked them back. I knew what this wretch was doing. Playing his games. I would not give it to him. At least I still had my quiet sanctuary.

I sat back down on the stone bridge, with the water running below me, and took long breath after long breath of clean air, and somehow I was all right. I found myself thinking about Cinderella. This bridge reminded me of the time I had sat with her on a bridge in the palace, right after Juliette's timelooper had kidnapped me. We had laughed together, and she had given me my first real singing lesson. I had been so happy then. Thinking of her made me ache, and it also made me calm.

I would perform my duties beautifully today, and with any luck my husband would not be old. Perhaps I ought to put something in my belly before the tedious rituals began — something to settle my stomach, so that I should not be sick in the middle of whatever disgusting thing they handed me. I was calculating the safest route to the food table, the one where no guest would see me, when I heard a noise.

"MRRROWWW." A Beelzebun. I looked up into the tree: had one got itself stuck up there? No — the sound was not coming from the treetops.

"MRROOWW." I followed the pitiful sound around the edge of the hedges, and then I saw it. A fuzzy Beelzebun was floating in the air, suspended upside down. It was jerked higher and higher, then abruptly dropped, yelping as it plummeted, only to freeze mere inches from the ground. The poor creature's eyes were wide with sheer panic before it was violently yanked up into the air again.

Then I spotted the cause: a young demon boy, no older than eleven, holding a small wooden staff with a glowing orange crystal set in the end. He wore an expression of utter boredom while he tormented the poor creature half to death. Oh, that was a very bad demon boy. I walked over to him fast.

"Give it here!" I snatched the rod out of his hand and snapped it in half in one fist. The Beelzebun dropped on its ugly head and scrambled away.

"What— who—!" The boy had not noticed me until that moment. He looked up at me, astonished and then furious.

"How dare you! Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Yes," I said sternly.

"You are a very bad boy! Shame on you for torturing that poor creature!"

"You…" He pointed at me, his eyes flaring with rage.

"You have just broken a valuable artifact! You lousy vixen, you crone — you just wait until—""Hey! What are you—" I caught him by the arm, and hauled him over my knee. He fought the whole way, and I was honestly surprised how strong he was for a child — but I was stronger still. And this ill-mannered boy was in need of a good smack, no doubt about it. So I spanked him. Hard, on his backside. Once, twice, ten times. When I was done I set him back on his feet, and he stumbled forward, catching his balance.

When he turned back to look at me, his face was beet red, and humiliated tears were gleaming in his eyes.

"You…" he said, quieter now, pointing at me again with a trembling finger.

"You have just made a very great mistake. For which you will pay dearly."

"Is that so?" I scoffed, crossing my arms.

"And who is going to make me pay? You?"

"You see," he panted, chest heaving with rage, "this is my wedding. And my wife-to-be is a Justicier, and a demoness of a monstrous bloodline. The very first thing I will ask of her as my bride is to cause you a great deal of pain!" I stared at him, eyes wide, mouth open. Oh. That… that was unfortunate.

"Yes, you are frightened now," he said, smiling up at me.

"You are frightened because you know the horrible fate that is coming to you." Yes. That was exactly so.