Liam woke to sunlight streaming through windows he didn't remember opening and the distinct sensation that his head was trying to separate from his body.
Not literally.
His demonic physiology made hangovers theoretically impossible. But apparently, spending an entire evening with hundreads of worshippers who'd insisted on celebrating his consolidation of imperial power with ceremonial wine had found the loophole.
"You're awake." Lilith's voice came from somewhere to his left. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd achieved some new form of hibernation."
Liam cracked one eye open.
The Queen sat in a chair by the window, reading what looked like reports, a cup of something steaming in her other hand.
She was dressed casually—for her—in simple dark robes without the crown or formal regalia.
"What time is it?" His voice came out as a croak.
"Noon. You've been unconscious for fourteen hours."
"That's... not possible. Greater Fiend stages don't sleep that long."
