“And what if it is not, as you say, ‘squashed’?” she asked slowly.
“You’ll still be out of the conflict by sending everyone away from your court and not openly allying yourself with one faction. If you still want to renegotiate a treaty between Lucifer’s court and yours, I can always come back after the smoke has cleared.”
I watched her, trying not to betray my hope. Maybe she would buy it. Maybe all of this could be fixed with logic and very little bloodshed. Maybe we would all just be able to go home.
Then she shook her head. “I agree with you in principle, and perhaps I will take your advice regarding Focalor. But I still do not wish to give up the thrall.”
“Amarantha,” I said, and she looked mildly offended that I was speaking to her as an equal. But I’m not big on titles, and I wanted her to feel like I was her confidant. “If you don’t give up Gabriel, then it’s tantamount to accepting Focalor as your ally. You’re insulting Azazel, and Lucifer won’t be able to tolerate it. He will be forced to include your court when he goes after Focalor.”
“By then he may have other motivation to spare us,” she said stubbornly.
Fine. I would say it right out even if she wouldn’t. “You’re only going to piss Lucifer off if you have Gabriel’s baby.”
“Everyone knows Lord Lucifer is irrational about his bloodline,” she said. “That will protect me.”
“No, it will protect the baby,” I said, speaking slowly so that she would understand. “What makes you think that Lucifer won’t kill you the second the child is born and then take that child to his own court to live?”
For the second time Amarantha looked unsure. “He would have the wrath of all the faerie courts on his head if he did such a thing.”
“Not if he argued that you had insulted him in the first place by using his grandson as a stud. Not if he was able to convince the other courts that the insult could only be paid with your life. If you’ve done any reading over the last thousand years, then you know that Lucifer’s powers of persuasion are quite, well, persuasive.”
I could see all my arguments playing around in her head, and I could see just as clearly that I would fail. Amarantha was used to getting her own way, and damn the consequences.
Then something shifted in her face, and she gave me a crafty look.
“There may be a way for all of us to save face in this,” she said.
“And what is that?” I asked warily. I felt a dribble of cold sweat trickle down my spine. She looked way too pleased with herself all of a sudden.
“There could be a competition between yourself and a representative of Focalor’s camp, with the thrall as the prize.”
“What kind of a competition?” If it was a hand-to-hand combat situation, I was probably screwed, because Antares would definitely volunteer for sister-beating duty and he had already proven that he was stronger than me.
“A test of strength and wit and cunning. If you win, I will return the thrall to you and formally reestablish relations with Lord Lucifer. If Focalor’s representative wins, then I will accept the thrall as my gift and establish ties with his court. This seems to me a fair way to settle the argument between the two of you without becoming embroiled in the conflict.”
“Except that if you side with Focalor for any reason, Lucifer will not take it kindly. I’d advise you to think on that—again,” I said.
“It seems to me that you are frightened to face Focalor. If Lucifer’s court is so strong, then surely my little test will be nothing for you, and you will be on your way home with your thrall in hand tomorrow,” Amarantha said.
I knew she was goading me. I’m not stupid. And I also knew that I was going to undertake her test no matter what. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to get Gabriel back.
“I’d like some more specifics on this test before I agree,” I said.
“As I said, a competition of strength and wit and cunning—the Maze.”
Gabriel looked up suddenly and jerked on his leash. “Madeline, no, you must not.”
“Silence,” Amarantha hissed.
He stood abruptly, yanking the leash from her hands. Amarantha looked furious. He put his hands on my shoulders and gazed intently into my eyes. I reached up and covered his hands with mine.
“You must not do this. The Maze is too dangerous.”
“I said, silence, thrall!” Amarantha shouted. She stalked back to her chaise and pulled out a short wooden rod of the same type that J.B. carried and pointed it at Gabriel.
“No!” I cried as she shot him with a bolt of magic from the rod.
He fell to the floor, writhing in pain. I noticed for the first time that he wore two slim silver bracelets around each wrist. The bracelets crackled with power. So they were some kind of binding, then—to keep his abilities suppressed, I assumed, and to keep him under control when he acted up.
I gave Amarantha a furious glare. “He’s not yours to treat like a dog.”
“He is mine for now, and mine to treat as I wish. Are you willing to participate in my competition, and win him back?”
I was sure the Maze would be dangerous. I was sure that she didn’t care if I lived or died, and that my death might be preferable in the long run. I was also sure that while I was risking my life she’d be trying to get Gabriel’s baby anyway, so that no matter the outcome of the contest she’d still have her child of Lucifer’s bloodline.