"Mason who?" Prince Henry asked, leaning back slightly in his chair, one leg crossing over the other. Curiosity edged his voice, though irritation simmered beneath it.
"You will know soon enough," King Alexander replied. His voice was tired, heavy, as though every word cost him something.
Henry studied his father more closely then. The king's jaw was tight, his posture rigid, discomfort written plainly across his face. Before Henry could press further, a sharp knock echoed through the study.
George entered once more, stepping aside to allow another man through the door.
The stranger was tall and broad-shouldered, built like a soldier hardened by years of battle. A long, jagged scar ran down the right side of his face, pale against weathered skin. His eyes were sharp, and when they swept across the room, the space seemed to shrink beneath his presence.
George closed the door quietly behind him.
King Alexander rose at once. Henry followed, though more out of instinct than respect.
"Mason," the king said.
Henry offered the man a polite smile.
Mason did not return it.
He stared at Henry with cold indifference, his expression unreadable.
Rude, Henry thought.
King Alexander gestured toward the chair beside his son, "Please, sit."
Mason took his seat without a word.
"You asked for an audience," the king said carefully, "This is my son, Prince Henry."
"I know who he is," Mason replied flatly.
Henry's brows shot upward, "Excuse me?"
Mason turned back to the king, lips curling faintly, "You didn't tell him about me?"
King Alexander swallowed before facing his son. "Mason is an emissary," he said quietly, "For King Samael."
Henry frowned. The name meant nothing to him.
Mason tilted his head, "If Samael doesn't sound familiar," he said smoothly, "try Lucifer."
The air shifted.
Henry's breath caught. His hand moved instinctively, crossing himself as his eyes locked onto Mason's face. Mason noticed and laughed softly.
"Does my presence unsettle you, Henry, son of Alexander?" Mason asked, leaning forward.
Henry forced himself to straighten. Fear was weakness, he knew that much, "I'm not afraid of you," he said firmly, "Nor of Lucifer."
Mason's smile widened. He glanced at King Alexander, "I like him. He's nothing like you." His gaze returned to Henry, "Bold. Intelligent. Exactly what the people of Vertox would want in their future king."
Henry scowled, "Save your compliments. Why are you here? Doesn't Hell have better things to do?"
"Oh, Henry," Mason chuckled, "If only you knew." His tone shifted as he turned to the king, "It seems you haven't told him everything. I've been your guest for days, Alexander. I'm here to ensure you don't attempt to break the pact."
Henry leaned forward. "That pact was his," he snapped, "Not mine. Not my sister's. Why drag Helena into something she never agreed to?"
King Alexander stiffened.
"If Hell needs a sacrifice," Henry continued, eyes burning, "why not take someone who consented?"
Mason laughed again, softer this time, "Did you see your father's face just now? Don't you feel sorry for him?"
Henry didn't answer. His jaw tightened. If guilt existed in him, it was buried beneath fury.
"My king has no interest in broken men," Mason went on calmly, "He desires a bride worthy of his son. Your sister's beauty and fertility are gifts not easily overlooked." He smiled, "Prince Beelzebub has long wished for a kingdom of his own. Marrying into your bloodline gives him that."
Henry shook his head slowly, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He glanced at his father, whose face had gone pale as death.
"And who are you, exactly?" Henry asked.
"You won't find me in your Bible," Mason replied lightly. "But in older texts, I am called one of the Mazzikin."
Henry nodded once. "I don't care what you are. Arrange a meeting with your prince. Better yet, your king."
"Henry!" King Alexander started.
Henry shot him a sharp look, "If you're too afraid to face them, I won't be. I will not hand my sister over without a fight."
Mason laughed openly now, clearly amused, "I truly like you." He stood, "Prince Beelzebub would be delighted to meet his future brother-in-law." His eyes gleamed, "Tomorrow morning."
Henry rose as well, "Get out of my sight. And don't ever speak to me the way you did again."
Mason bowed in a mocking way, then turned toward King Alexander, who hadn't moved from his chair. A moment later, he was gone.
Henry stood there for a heartbeat longer, shaking his head in disbelief. Then, without another word, he left the study, leaving his father alone with the consequences of a promise made in Hell.