And yet – no one reacted. No one surged up to accuse them indecency, no one made any remarks on distasteful behavior, the Prince didn’t have him thrown out on his ear. In fact, there was only some good-natured laughing, which implied this was normal behavior from Damian. The loudest voice was Charlie, imaginary in Archie’s head, sneering about sissies who might as well wear dresses.
“We’ve met previously, in passing,” said Damian to the group, as if that explained everything. It explained nothing at all, as far as Archie was concerned, but the the group turned back to their previous conversation with nary a whisper.
“And there are a few others who will no doubt arrive when it pleases them,” said Prince Ixthan as though that had been an ordinary round of introductions.
Archie had to recalibrate his assumptions, and fast. He had recognized most of the names the prince had mentioned, and it was clear that this was an intimate gathering of the prince’s inner circle of friends. He might have questioned his invitation more if he had known that.Damaris, where are you?he tried again.
“What’s your poison?” asked Prince Ixthan, leading Archie to the side table of drinks, before peering into his eyes. “A port man, would be my guess.”
“I do like a port,” admitted Archie. The array of drinks were only half-familiar to him, with some of the bottles in a script he didn’t recognize. From the demon realms, he realized with a thrill. That was it, that must be why everything in the room seemed so unfamiliar – there were heavy demonic influences in everything. He hadn’t even known that the demon realms had wine or art. Stupid, really – whole clans of demons lived there, of course they must have their own comforts.
The prince handed him a glass of rich, almost black, liquid, the edges of their hands almost brushing before the prince moved his fingers out of the way so they wouldn’t touch.
“I don’t think your passenger would appreciate it,” said Ixthan with a knowing smile. It was the first time he had acknowledged it so openly, and Archie was caught. There was no manners guide, no social-etiquette-approved answer for him to fall back on. He stayed mute.
“I see the quick tongue is all his. He’s not going to rescue you this time,” said Ixthan. “Well then, while I have the chance, I should express my admiration. It has been a while since I’ve seen a possessed. Outside of the mages so supervised by my father and the university, that is.”
“You’re not going to report me to the king?” asked Archie in barely a whisper. Damaris had already given his opinion, but he wanted to make sure regardless.
“You attach yourself to a succubus. His powers are hardly going to topple the throne,” said Ixthan with a snort. Archie flushed, again. He hadn’t known that Ixthan – or was it any demon? – could tell what kind of demon possessed him. He felt exposed, as if he were the one dressed only in a shirt and not the prince.
“Then what – begging your pardon, Your Highness. What is it you want with me? I don’t understand why I’m here.” Archie glanced back at the party and was caught. Earl Damian had rearranged himself, languidly throwing his legs over one arm of his couch so that he was directly watching Archie and Prince Ixthan, not even hiding it. When his eyes met Archie’s, he raised his glass. Archie looked away, struggling to focus back on the prince.
“I don’tcareif some human gets themselves possessed, but it does interest me to know what demons are entering this realm,” said Ixthan, smiling broadly enough that Archie could see that the tips of his teeth came ever so slightly to a point. “Besides, this wing that my brother and I share is the only part of the palace where demon magic goes entirely unnoticed. I would be a good friend to have on your side, I should think.”
It wasn’t a threat – yet. Archie bowed his head. “I understand, Your Highness.”
Ixthan waved it away. “Do away with the formalities. We’re cousins, after all. My friends call me Ix.”
The name stuck in Archie’s throat. It was going to take some getting used to. But thankfully that was all the prince had need of him for now. He relinquished the glass, and tipped his head towards the gathering. “If I occupy your time for too long, a certain someone will get the wrong idea, I’m sure.”
All the seats were taken; Archie meant to simply slide himself into a space on the carpet, when Damian swung his legs down, silently leaving it open for Archie. It would look strange if Archie rejected it and went for the floor now. He sat. It was a couch meant for one person to recline, a tight fit for two grown men. His leg pressed against Damian’s from hip to knee, a press that left his stomach oddly tight. The group conversation was currently about hunting, Damian engaged and showing no indication of Archie’s inner turmoil.
Damaris, where are you?thought Archie desperately, only realizing afterwards that he was speaking to the demon almost as if he were praying to a god. What did he expect a succubus to be able to help with in this situation anyway? This was a purely human social struggle that Archie had, his shyness and inability to make friends. All his friends were people he had known for years, thrown together in studies or because their parents were friends, people with whom he’d spent so much time with it would be odder for them tonotconsider him their friends.
Here. The whisper was faint. Archie almost missed it as one of the women laughed. And, confusingly, it hadn’t come from the back of Archie’s mind.
Damaris?
Still here. Slightly louder this time, with the faint thread of amusement. And still, coming not from within Archie. Almost as if Damaris was outside, calling in through a window. As if… as if…
Archie stared in horror at the Earl of Lymond.
A thousand questions swirled in his mind. The single sip he’d taken of the port – rich, sweet – threatened to regurgitate. He’d made a deal with a demon and it hadn’t even lasted a week. And here in his place was this man, an Earl no less, who Archie hadn’t even heard of, who – who – who flickered. For just one moment, so brief Archie thought he imagined it, he could see the fire in the fireplace straight through Earl Damian Lymond.
As if Damian was really a swoop of shadows made solid.
CHAPTER TEN
AFTERWARDS, ARCHIE COULDN’T recall the party clearly. He tried, multiple times, throughout the evening to ask Damaris just what was going on, shaping the words clearly in his mind. If he was Earl Damian. If the Earl Damian really existed. But Damian was always busy, engaging with the discussion on hunting, and then sport, then traveling, then wherever else the river of conversation took the group.
Only once, after a barrage of questions from Archie, did he respond.Hush.He flickered again, the arm of the couch visible through Damian’s arm for a moment.
Archie subsided. It was clear it was taking all of Damaris’s ability to maintain this, whateverthiswas. He didn’t even know if it was an illusion or a manifestation. He would not get his answers yet, but that didn’t stop his questions from eating him up inside. He drank his port too quickly and went back for another glass, relieved for a respite of being next to Damian, or Damaris, he supposed.
After his third glass, Archie realized belatedly that demon port was stronger than what he was used to. His fingertips and his lips were numb, tingling, and paired with the heat of the room he’d already needed to remove his doublet. He stared at the bottles, trying to figure out what would affect him less. There was no water, and no servants in sight.
“Careful.” The voice sounded too close to his ear and Archie jumped. His elbow landed in the palm of a hand, outstretched to help him, and jogged straight through the hand, turning it into black wisps. The hand reformed in a moment as Archie composed himself. He hadn’t even noticed someone coming up behind him. The voice was Damaris, but now that Archie knew, he could hear Damian’s tone in it. No, that wasn’t right, it was the other way around, his thoughts were getting muddled.
