“I was getting sort of concerned that you didn’t leave me a message or anything so I figured I’d call. Sorry of this is too early.”

“It’s no big, we were just having breakfast.”

“We?”

“Yeah, Phil and I kind of made a night of it.”

“You what?”

There was nothing left to say. She looked so alone and vulnerable I wanted to reach out to her, but that wasn’t going to happen now. With a slowness born of reluctance I gathered all my clothes and put them into my bag; it didn’t take long even so.

I put the door key on the coffee table and looked up at her stiff and unrelenting pose. It was already dark outside and cold enough that a wet snow was falling. I had no idea where I might find shelter at this time of the evening, but I had no more welcome here. I couldn’t blame her for that, I mean what had happened to me was farfetched. I gave the friendly tabby a last scratch behind his ears and headed for the door and who knew what.

"Are you always this difficult?" he snarled. When I didn't reply him, he acceded defeat and said, "I intended to give this to you when you're properly appointed as my new consort. But... since every angel in Briah and Assiah already know that you're the new 'Queen of Tartarus', I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

"You're speaking as if that was my fault!" I protested with a stomp of my feet.

"It is your fault. You shouldn't have let that pesky agent of the Thrones go that easily. Thanks to you, my mailbox kept flooding since Christmas. Now I hear I'm about to have a riot in my hands. You're the first of my consort who flaunt her new position within 24 hours of acceptance." He slapped his forehead, though no sound was heard.

"Hey, don't blame me. You're the one who tricked me."

"Oh, believe me. I have already regretted that decision."