A Court of Death || ACOTAR

38

"This could end so badly," Rhys murmured, watching as Amren worked on completing the steps for a summoning none of them were sure would even work. "Azriel shouldn't be in the room for this." He was in agreement with Mor about the possibility that Death might be harboring some ill will towards Azriel.

"Fuck off," Azriel snapped, not even glancing towards him.

"Azriel is right," Amren added on, "he should be here." She doubted the King of the Dead would be petty enough to kill Azriel on sight, and she thought Azriel should see the friend he had become so jealous over that he lost Astryn.

Silence fell over the room after that until Cassian muttered something about how they probably should have done something as dramatic as summoning Death outside and earned himself a watery laugh from Mor.

Amren completed the final steps, and the House of Wind and the mountain around it shook violently. The sun winked out of existence from its place in the afternoon sky, and Cassian made a quiet comment about how summoning Death should have not only been done outside, but was more of a nighttime activity.

The temperature dropped, the air turning so cold it was almost painful. The room was lit by a collection of candles.

And then there was a male in the room. And entirely naked male, golden hair a mess of blonde curls on his head. His skin was smooth and blemish free over lean, toned body, a sheen of sweat shining. Everyone did their best to avoid looking anywhere but at his face, but a morbidly curious glance further down confirmed that they had clearly interrupted something.

"Well," the King of the Dead drawled, eyes traveling over the group in a bored survey, "this is awkward." His lips turned up into a smirk as they all stared at him in tense apprehension, like they were all suddenly a little uncertain of whether or not he might kill them. "Would it be too terrible of an inconvenience for someone to fetch me some pants?"

"Got it," Cassian muttered, biting back a smile as he rushed off and returned with a pair of lose fitting pants. Everyone awkwardly averted their gazes as Death pulled the borrowed pants on.

"You all took me away from a very fun night," he said, eyebrows raised as he awaited an explanation.

"Apologies, your Majesty," Amren spoke genuinely, and the rest of the group eyed her in shock at the deeply respectful tone. Death grinned.

"Oh, don't apologize to me, lovely," he replied, "there's currently a demon tied to my bed who's probably feeling a lot more inconvenienced by this than I am. You lot better hope she doesn't try to revamp the old demonic possession trend I snuffed out. You took me away right when I was about to finish getting her off on my tongue. Demons aren't a fan of ruined orgasms."

"Apologies to her then," Amren amended with a nod.

"I'll pass the message along," he assured her with a smug look, "and I do hope we can make this quick. Things will get messy if she's left tied to my bed for longer than she wants to be. I might think to hold it against you all if she endures any lasting discomfort thanks to this summoning." His eyes drifted to Azriel, a hint of resentment shining. "Shadowsinger. How fitting you'd be the one to ruin my good night."

"We need—" Amren began, taking the lead here.

"No," Death cut in sharply, "no, lovely, if you summoned me to ask a favor, the shadowsinger will be the one to ask for it. Him or...perhaps the High Lord can do a bit of groveling. I'd be happy with either, really."

"It's Astryn," Azriel told him, and any traces of amusement or arrogance vanished. "The King of Hybern is holding her hostage."

"What?" he growled, the room darkening a fraction and the temperature dropping further.

"I guess it's untrue that you can see the future then," Azriel muttered, and Death prowled a few steps closer to him.

"Oh, Azriel," he spoke the name like it was a curse, "that doesn't sound like groveling to me."

"You wouldn't require any groveling if you ever actually cared about Astryn," Cassian challenged, "if you were ever actually her friend."

"I'll let that tone slide because you're the only one here I like all that much," Death said, a hint of warning in his tone, "but you should be aware that I plan to help Astryn either way. The only thing that's up for debate right now is whether or not I help her back to you or..." he trailed off for a moment, eyes shining with malice as he turned his stare back to Azriel, "back to Helion." It was a bluff. If he could save her and she asked to go to Azriel, he would give her that. The choice would always be hers. "You and I both know that this might just be your only chance to ever be in her good graces again, Azriel. Any traces of warmth towards you would very likely vanish if I told her the reason you played no role in saving her was just because you couldn't set aside that petty little male ego of yours and say please."

Cassian didn't intervene this time, looking to Azriel to do the obvious.

"Please," Azriel said stiffly, "please help us bring Astryn home."

Death looked to Rhys after that, eyebrows raised expectantly, "well, High Lord?"

"Please."

"Well, that hardly sounded sincere but I'll take it," Death said with a grin, "now, I'm going to return to my realm, free the demon from my bed, and put on some proper clothes. Summon me again in...hm, accounting the time difference, two minutes. Have all the information I'll need about the situation ready. As the shadowsinger so helpfully pointed out, I can't the future anymore and Astryn hasn't visited for...apparently obvious reasons, so I'll need to know everything you know. And I do mean everything."

Death vanished, and the sun returned to its rightful place in the sky and the temperature went back to normal.

Two minutes.