"I just want to know what the hell you were thinking!"
Lilith's voice, usually a controlled thing, was sharp and burdened. She stood rigid, her fists clenched at her sides, as Liam stood calmly in the center of his chambers.
His arms were raised slightly as three women of the Nameless Litany, their eyes downcast in reverence, slowly undressed him of his sweat-and-smoke-stained robes from the council.
"After the masterclass performance I just put on," Liam said, his voice a study in casual amusement, "I expected the first thing out of your mouth to be, 'You're the best, Liam. You're such a great actor, Liam. You saved my fucking throne, Liam.'"
"You were great," Lilith shot back, the words clipped. "Astonishing. And all the praises and ass-kissing I had planned got immediately interrupted by you announcing you were going to fight in bloody Ashard!"
Liam sighed as the last of the old robes were lifted away, leaving him standing in the low light of the setting sun that streamed through the arched window.
The golden rays highlighted the defined musculature of his torso and abdomen – a form he'd meticulously maintained on Earth, always ready for a role that demanded a certain physicality.
"I think you're a tad bit overreacting," he said, turning to face her fully. "It can't be that bad."
"It's not," Lilith said, her gaze flickering over him for a moment before locking back onto his eyes. "And that, in itself, is part of the problem with your decision to go."
"I don't understand."
Lilith stared at him for a long, silent moment. Then, her voice dropped to a command.
"Leave us."
The women of the Litany froze, their hands hovering over the rich, new robes they were about to fit him with.
They didn't look at Lilith. Instead, their eyes darted to Liam, waiting for his confirmation—a silent, profound shift in allegiance that did not go unnoticed by the queen.
Liam gave a single, slight nod. Only then did they bow and swiftly scurry from the room, leaving the robes draped over a chair.
"You could have at least let them put the robes on," Liam remarked, standing unselfconsciously in the fading light.
Lilith stepped forward, closing the distance between them. The regal anger was gone, replaced by something raw and urgent.
"I can't let you die."
A smirk touched Liam's lips. "Why? Because you've fallen for my unmatched charm and charisma?"
"Because if you die," she said, her voice low and deadly serious, "this all goes to shit."
She began to pace.
"The outpost at Ashard is a persistent thorn, yes. The paladins attack there most frequently. But the Radiant Empire challenges us on a dozen fronts. We could send our strongest—the generals of Kraz'gul or any Arch-Demon—to easily crush the attackers in Province III. But doing so would critically weaken our defenses elsewhere, at camps where the Radiant Empire has stationed far more formidable legions."
"I'm certain you're stronger than those you mentioned, so instead if just staying in this castle...you could easily handle Ashard?" Liam asked.
"Without breaking a sweat," Lilith confirmed, stopping her pacing. "However, the moment I set foot outside the capital, their scouts would alert their high command. The strongest of their Empire—their Saints, their Arch-Paladins and heroes—would be dispatched with one goal: to ensure I do not leave the battlefield alive. Every time a monarch or high lord has personally taken the field, the Radiant Empire has made it their holy mission to behead us. They are intent on destroying the leadership."
"So you're saying if I go to Ashard, I'll be assassinated."
"No," Lilith said, shaking her head. "They don't know you. They don't recognize you as a political head. That's not the issue."
"Then what is?"
"The issue," she said, her golden eyes pinning him, "is that the Ashard outposts are a problem, but not for a Demon God. However, you aren't a demon god. You aren't strong enough to win, or even to survive. And when you fail—when you are wounded, or captured, or forced to retreat—the belief you've so carefully cultivated will shatter into dust. We will be back to square one, but this time, with the stench of failure clinging to us."
Liam sighed, turning to look out the window at the sprawling, twilit city of Eldhar.
"So that's the problem. You have no faith in me."
"I have faith in your ability to convince anyone you are their savior, their god," Lilith said, her voice softening marginally. "But not in your ability to win wars."
At that, Liam turned and stepped toward her. He moved until they were mere inches apart, the heat of their bodies mingling in the cool air.
He looked down at her, his slate-grey eyes intense.
"I have summoned the flames of hell and you watch me at the council hall open its gates," he whispered, his voice low and resonant. "And yet you still think I'm just an actor." He leaned in, his face so close she could feel his breath. "I'll make you believe Lilith. Just like I've made all the others believe."
They stayed like that, the silence stretching, charged with a tension that was part conflict, part something else entirely.
Then, Lilith broke it.
"I saw you do this with Veridia as well," she said, her tone dry and analytical. "Is this an attempt at seduction?"
"No," Liam replied, not moving back. "It's a manipulation tactic. Mixing fear and intimacy to destabilize the target." A faint, wry smile. "So? Is it working?"
Lilith waited a beat, her expression blank, as if genuinely taking internal stock, seeing if she was affected by it.
"No. Not really. Probably because we're missing the fear aspect."
"Damn it," Liam muttered, turning away with a frustrated exhale and running a hand through his hair.
"The point remains," Lilith continued, her arms crossing. "I still don't think you should go. It's too dangerous, and I cannot go with you. You told them you'd leave in a week, when you'd need no less than a year to gain the needed strength. You need to send word that you will not be going."
"Isn't that more suspicious?" Liam countered, facing her again. "The all-powerful god, changing his mind?"
"We will make up a reason. You going and failing will be the actual nail in our coffin."
"Look, Lilith, stop," Liam said, his voice firming with resolve. "This is our chance. If I am victorious in Ashard, truly victorious, the belief in the Demon God will become unshakeable. It will sweep through the entire empire."
"If you're victorious," she stressed.
"I won't lose," he said, his gaze unwavering. "And I need you to trust me on this."
Lilith stared at him, her mind a whirlwind of calculation and fear.
She saw the determination in his eyes, the same terrifying conviction that had cowed the Nine Houses.
She weighed the immense risk against the potentially world-altering reward. Finally, she let out a long, slow breath, the fight draining from her shoulders.
"Fine," she conceded, the word tasting like ash and hope. "But get ready. We have a lot to prepare for."