After Raziel vanished into the shadows, Vaerion and Asuriel stood silently. She stared out over the firefall, her mind racing. An unfamiliar darkness had settled in her mind, invited in by her devious plans to bind Raziel against his will.
"I am to take the throne," Vaerion said suddenly.
She glanced at him curiously. He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was inevitable, like he had never once doubted it.
"Yeah?" Asuriel nodded, "I know your position. Don't worry, even if I'm technically an… 'heir,' I don't have interest in the throne."
"That's not what I mean," the devil answered, his voice hinting at a foreign uncertainty.
Asuriel's brows furrowed. "Then what are you getting at?"
"I spent years accepting that I was the only one worthy to take the throne and to kill Valthor," he continued, voice smooth but low. "It was painfully clear that no one else had the right. My brothers disgust me, and the court officials deserve a fate worse than death."
