That night, Delilah woke to hear noises rumbling through the walls of Irkalla. She sat up and groaned, praying that the undead hadn't somehow escaped and were running rampant through the citadel.
She took care to stuff her feet into a sturdy pair of shoes this time, before she left her room. She was halfway down the black corridor - all torches had gone out and she had no light but the faint flicker around the corner - when she collided with a huge, solid body.
"Dante?" she whispered.
"It's me," Hawk grunted, shoving her away from him.
"What's happening?"
"Some idiots have started a riot in the Second Circle - they're protesting against this war. Word of the undead in Irkalla has probably spread - I don't think they realised what Dante meant by 'unleashing the Spectral Realm' until now."
"Oh."
"I'm rounding up the guards to shut it down."
"Do you want me to -?"
"Go back to sleep," he growled. "I will not have you interfering with my job. These people are not yours."
"Fine." Delilah stalked back to her room and closed the door, locking it in case the riot spread. But she doubted Dante would let it reach the First Circle. This, she supposed, was one of the major disadvantages of Irkalla. All the mountain cities and towns had been condensed into one pit, one labyrinth of caves, which meant that a mob mentality could spread to almost all of Dante's people.
Delilah curled back up in bed, listening to the faint sounds. She wondered how much damage was being done - and what Dante would do to the instigators.
But the day had worn her out, and she soon slept.
While she slumbered, every flame except one candle in the room burned out, so they cast no shadows when they entered.
The faint riot noises continued, contrasting to the usual silence, so the sounds they made as they picked the lock did not jar her from sleep.
They were stealthy - they had planned this.
Delilah woke with a jolt as a hand clapped over her mouth, and many men grabbed her at once.
Panic shot through her and she struggled, lashing out and trying to fight like a wildcat. Unknown, dark shapes groped her. She managed to wrench one leg free and kick someone in the face - he howled - but there were too many of them trying to immobilize every limb at once.
She clawed, gouging skin with her nails. The struggling was near-silent, but brutal, and she could barely breathe as she clamped her teeth down on a finger.
Bone crunched and blood flooded her mouth as the man gagging her screamed. She tried not to choke on its metallic taste and clenched her teeth harder - until he finally managed to rip his finger away, nearly taking her teeth with it.
Then a cold metal blade rested against her throat.
"It's time you were put down, She-Wolf," someone said. She recognised that oily voice - councilman Peters, the one who had hated her from the start.
She twisted an arm free as the blade sank in, cutting a burning path across her neck - and managed to knock Peters' arm away. The knife clattered across the floor, out of sight.
Kicking her bedsheets everywhere, Delilah lunged for her bedside table, pitting her wiry strength against that of the men's - their cruel hands were digging in as they tried to restrain her. She anticipated bruises.
But she'd give them something worse.
She snatched the remaining candle from its place on her table, twisted, and jabbed it into the face of the closest man.
Fire and hot wax met skin. He howled as she drove the wick into his eye, still kicking and clawing to free her other arm and legs.
She tore free as the first man went down. She toppled off the bed, landing on top of him, pushing the candle into his face so hard she felt it snap.
Then she bolted to her feet and streaked across the room as blood ran down her neck. Her hammering pulse only made it worse - oh, ancestors, every breath was like fire as her throat seared with pain -
Someone tackled her, bowling her over and crushing her to the floor. There was another frantic struggle - brawn against her trained skills. But only one man, this time. Delilah managed to snap his neck before he could do anything.
She heaved him off her, straining to see now the final bit of light in her room had been extinguished. The others were blundering towards her although the dagger they'd had was lost - but did they carry more blades?
Delilah figured out where she was in relation to her weapons. She dived to the left, snatching up one of her long, slender knives, and whirled just as the men closed in around her.
The stirring air, the sound of their breathing and their footsteps told her where they were. So Delilah blocked their punches and stabbed their throats. There was nothing clean or refined about this killing, but her entire body hurt all over and she couldn't bring herself to care.
When they had all dropped to the floor and their gurgling was silenced, Delilah staggered out of her room and vomited in the corridor. Then she ran.
She collided headlong with Dante's office door, rebounded, and nearly fell. She'd guessed he'd be in there rather than his rooms, awake and waiting for Hawk to return. She couldn't hear the riot any more.
There was a muttered curse, and the door opened.
"Delilah - oh, skies, Delilah, what -?" Dante grabbed her arms, his face very pale.
That was when she realised she was drenched in blood. Her hair was plastered to her head with it, and so was her nightgown - thankfully that night she'd chosen to wear one that reached her knees.
Delilah showed him the knife she carried. "You warned me - about assassination," she rasped, and collapsed against him.
The adrenalin and fear were slowly ebbing away, leaving her hollow and shocked. She rested her head against Dante's shoulder. He smelled like citrus and night air.
"So this isn't - You're all right? It's not your blood?" Dante's hands had moved to her waist to steady her, but they slid up, over her shoulders to rest on either side of her neck. Reluctantly she lifted her head back up and he inspected the cut. He swore under his breath. "They nearly slit your throat."
"Yes." She felt as fragile as a newborn fawn.
Dante clenched his jaw. He removed his hands from her, glancing once at the blood that now coated his palms, and picked up a lantern from his desk. "The bodies are in your room? Take me to them."
There was something... prickly, and fractious about Dante's mood as they hurried towards her chambers.
"What?" she asked, ignoring the pain speech caused.
"I'm thinking..." Dante shook his head as if to banish a few thoughts. "I'm thinking that something is wrong with me. Because when I realised what had just almost happened, my first thought was... To give you an Opal, so you can protect yourself. And... I can't afford to think like that, because we made a deal. The Opals are mine and I intend to keep them. You're King Gaol's daughter, while I'm the King of Vale - and no matter what happens, we'll..."
We'll be enemies, she finished silently in her head.
She was speechless, and could not give him an answer, so she followed the orders Dante gave when he saw the bodies, and they worked in silence until dawn arrived and he summoned his council to the Great Hall.
"Before they arrive I should probably -" Delilah began, gesturing to her blood-caked body.
"No." Dante's face was cold fire. "Let them see you like this."
So they filed in: the captains and the council members. Their eyes bulged when they spotted the dead men, throats ripped open, laid on the floor. Delilah in only her nightgown, and Dante stood behind her.
Delilah lifted her chin, twirling the knife that she still held, letting the dried blood on its blade catch the candlelight. She let them see the cold predator in her eyes, let them realise that she had killed six men while in her night clothes, with one knife. None of them seemed to be able to look away from the one with the half-melted face.
"As you can see," Dante said, "my Lieutenant was attacked in the early hours, while the riot was happening."
"And as you can see, my attackers are all dead." Delilah did not know the voice that came out of her: colder and louder than usual, her pain causing a rasp to it that made her sound older. It wasn't the voice of a queen - but an empress.
"Yeah, so? Why are we here?" someone grunted.
"You have never seen the She-Wolf in action," she replied before Dante could speak. "And I wanted it known that my fangs and claws are real. They are very, very sharp, in case you were wondering."
Dante stayed menacingly silent, while the gathered assembly stood stiffly, forced to stare at her and the dead men.
Delilah's stomach plummeted to her boots at the sight of one sneering face: Peters. He'd escaped. He must have run from the room while she was killing the others... And she realised it was all him. He'd organised everything to get rid of her.
She stared at him, hoping he could read the expression on her face. You're next on my list.
After about ten minutes of Dante forcing the gruesome scene to be imprinted in everyone's minds, he said, "That is all. You are dismissed, and can return to your duties. I want you all in the pits to start training the undead."
Hawk walked in just as they were leaving, his eyebrows rising at the scene. "I hope they can get the blood out of all the cracks, otherwise the next ball you throw is going to feel a little gloomy, Dante."
"Report."
"We shut the riot down, executed those who started it, and threw most of the others behind bars. We'll keep them there for a while, maybe force them to do some tunnelling work, before we let them out. They can be an example to anyone else who isn't happy with this war."
"Good."
Hawk surveyed Delilah. "Looks like it's been a busy night for both of us, She-Wolf."
"Nothing I can't handle," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in desperate need of a bath."
She soaked and scrubbed herself for nearly two hours, trying to work the blood out of her hair and from under her nails. When she finally dragged herself back into her room, it was to find it spotless, bright with firelight and completely bloodless. Dante had obviously informed the servants.
Delilah dressed in black leather and, after eating breakfast, went to find Dante. He took her to the empty war council room, where a map of The four nations had been spread out, along with figurines depicting every legion that Dante's spies have found.
Dante started explaining the numbers to her. Terra was large: it had many legions. With Anloch it all depended on how many men chose to fight, as they were not soldiers, but Dante's people had made an informed guess.
Dante added the undead to the mix, and they started to discuss tactics.
"They're all going to invade Vale, and I think they should," he said. "They're not used to the mountain terrain, whereas our men - and the undead, too, hopefully - will know it well. There's no point pushing into their territories yet when we know they'll come to us, and we'd be at a disadvantage."
"Right." She braced her arms on the table. "If we weaken them in Vale, by the time we do invade, we'll have less resistance."
"And when we invade Pelenu, you can guide us to Rhydderch. You can tell us where to strike."
She nodded, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "As long as you leave me enough to... rebuild when I am queen."
He gave her a startled look.
"What? Did you forget our bargain - that I'll be queen when we win?" she snapped, suddenly furious. If he didn't uphold his end of the bargain...
"I -" Dante swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I've just... been getting used to you being my Lieutenant. That's all."
"Well, I'm sure it won't be hard to adjust to Hawk when I'm gone."
He opened his mouth to reply when there was a knock on the door. "Your Highness?"
Dante opened it to reveal a squat council member. The man stepped into the room, giving Delilah a few scared glances, and she blinked in surprise. A long line of women followed him: Dante's age, all Valian and all incredibly beautiful. Their hair was curled and pinned, their lips painted, and they wore loose white dresses.
"It is time to consider, once again, King Dante," the man said, gesturing to the girls. "These are the latest hopeful young women - all with good, noble, rich families. Whomever you choose to marry, you will have the family's full support and finances. All are very healthy and will bear you many children."
Dante stared at the women. The way they were looking back at him, like shy doves, perfect and pure as they blinked and darted glances from under their lashes...
Something hot and feral was ripping through Delilah's chest, closing her throat.
Dante waved a hand at her without even looking in her direction. "Leave. We will continue the meeting another time."
The line of brides-to-be cringed away from Delilah as she stormed past them.
"Shall I begin reading the list, Your Highness? This is Elise of the house -"
Delilah slammed the door and kept walking.