Kurai was surprisingly uninterested and unconcerned by the announcement that Heaven and Hell had started competing for souls again. The tennis thing was a little odd, but otherwise it was business as usual. She did rather hope that it didn’t lead to another war. She’d be obligated to get involved—on whose side would be a little convoluted, considering—and she was busy right now.

“Here they are,” Noise said as she dropped several large volumes onto Kurai’s desk. “All the records of the Triumvirate of the Dragons.”

Kurai made a purring sound in the back of her throat that could only be described as both appreciative and pleased. Noise watched suspiciously as Kurai dived into the materials with an expression that meant scheming was definitely on her master’s mind. And Kurai never schemed. Ever. Not even when that suspicious, smug demon was slinking around Gehenna. Noise did not like it when life got weird. Especially when it was her master who was getting weird.

“No one has done the triumvirate ceremony since before the first wars,”Noise said. Kurai made small sound of agreement. “You don’t have to do this,” Noise said, rather plaintively. “Besides, you have to be a triumvirate and you’re just you.”

Kurai looked up, eyes very dark—and for a moment Noise thought she saw eternity
flicker queerly within them—and stared at her retainer in away that made
Noise feel as if Kurai were lining up all Noise’s loyalties and all her
little betrayals and weighing them. It was uncomfortable feeling. And not
a thing she was used to. Not from her master.

“I am not yet Triumvirate, but I will be.”

Noise did not like that statement. She liked the narrow, determined look even less.

And in the darkness of the recessed window that looked over Gehenna’s forever twilight realm, Belial frowned in slightly troubled thought.

And in a plain where eternity echoed a young not-yet-woman looked up into the fractured sky and began to smile.