“Precisely. My father came up with a way to reform demon possession into a resource that could be used for the good of the people and land. The deals that demons make with their human hosts are binding so now, demonology scholars are invited to join the ranks of the mages and the possession process is carefully monitored. There are now more demons being let through now than ever.”
Archie hadn’t realized that. He’d thought that the treaty had been about restricting demons coming through. His life rarely intersected with mages and he didn’t know how many there were at all. No wonder the prince hadn’t been that bothered about meeting another demon in the palace. The only thing novel about them had been that they’d been unregistered.
“But none of them have ever manifested outside of the body of the host?” asked Archie.
“The demon would have been dismissed before it ever got to that point, with a new demon being summoned in itsplace if the human wished to remain a host,” said Ixthan. It was difficult to gage how the prince felt about this discarding of his fellow demon. “And certainly, it has never become such an issue so very quickly. And so, I must ask you to reveal the whole of your deal with the demon.”
Ixthan turned the book to him. Skimming the page told Archie that the exact nature of the pact that bound them was in the wording of the pact. The university had, through trial and error and records of previous pacts, come up with a wording that afforded their mages relative safety from demons. It was a long, convoluted thing that spanned a whole page, closing down loopholes that Archie would have never considered by himself.
Cringing, Archie thought of the barely considered deal he made with Damaris. He didn’t even remember the exact wording now, and even if he did, the idea of speaking them aloud was beyond him. How could he explain their deal without exposing himself? It wasn’t as if he was offering blood or his soul or animal sacrifices to Damaris. A pile of chicken bodies would have been easer to explain. He didn’t know what Ixthan’s expression was like because he couldn’t bring himself to look up to meet his eyes.
Silence stretched taut in the room. Archie’s throat spasmed shut every time he tried to force words out, until his entire chest wracked with the pain of it.
“I’ll remind you that I already know the nature of him.” The prince’s words sank like stone into the the air between them. “If that is your concern. Any demon can see it, in the same way a human can see the color of your hair or eyes.”
Equal parts of relief and shame flooded Archie so quickly his stomach cramped. Archie opened his mouth, but only a wet embarrassed noise came out. He dared to look up, and the Prince was looking back at him curiously.
“Humans make much more of this sort of thing than demons,” said Ixthan, waving his hand as if he did not want the stench of Archie’s embarrassment to touch him. “Don’t get me wrong, Russex. I don’t want your sordid details. I just want to know if he’s going to be a threat to my place in court.”
“I understand, Your Highness, that is,no, I mean—” Archie snapped his mouth shut so hard he nearly bit his tongue. It felt as though he’d lost all control of his own body, his hands shaking and teeth chattering, except he recalled when Damaris had taken control of his body and it had felt nothing like this. He centered himself with a deep shuddering breath. “I would allow him to feed on me so long as I also… enjoyed it.”
Even this felt too much of a confession. Prince Ixthan waited, and eventually let out a bark of laughter when he realized there was nothing more. “That’s it?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” said Archie, biting back the burble of excuses and explanations that threatened to spill.
“How very succinct. My father’s mages ought to invite you to lecture at the university.” Ixthan drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, his nails clacking rhythmically as he thought it over. As the prince stood, Archie hastily rose as well. His knees seemed barely able to take his weight.
“No doubt I will have more questions for you, Archibald of Russex. And I meant what I said previously: should you havequestions about demons, I wish for you to come to me.” Ixthan reached into a drawer and withdrew a ring, gold set with an amber that matched the undulating colors of his eyes. To show his guards if Archie wished to speak with him unsummoned. Archie bowed deeply over the prince’s hand, able to understand when he was being dismissed.
As he opened the door to Ixthan’s study, Archie nearly walked straight into Damian-Damaris, who was leaning against the door jamb.
“Well, doesn’t this sound riveting?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DAMARIS RAISED HIS goblet of demon wine in a toast to Ixthan, unabashed to have been caught eavesdropping. Archie paled, but Prince Ixthan merely snorted. He waved his hand and the door shut in both of their faces with a whisper of gold-edged magic.
Archie had no idea how Damaris managed to get away with such subordination. He was still shaking, and his heartbeat was an erratic drumbeat against his ribcage. A week ago, he couldn’t have imagined he would even speak so casually with royalty and here Damaris was, baiting a reaction from the prince.
The gathering was still in full swing, the food having been cleared in favor of desserts, rich heapings of fruit and cream, sugar dusted pastries and glittering tiny glasses of liqueur to pair with it. The time away from the group and conversation with the prince had sobered Archie up, and he felt exhausted, the tension in his muscles starting to ache.
“You’re not staying?” asked Damian as Archie skirted around the edges of the room.
“Now you speak to me?” whispered Archie with some incredulity. He’d been trying to get Damaris’s attention all night. But he’d reached a servant and didn’t wish to air any more of his matters in public. He was still feeling exposed from finding out that the prince not only knew, but hadalwaysknown what kind of demon Damaris was and that any other demon could do the same just looking at him. He asked for his coat from the servant.
“I’ll see you back to your quarters in that case,” said Damian-Damaris, waiting for the servant to leave.
“I don’t need escorting,” said Archie with a scowl.
“But don’t you want it?” asked Damian lazily, and that stopped Archie up short.
“What?”
“It’d be nice, wouldn’t it? If someone escorted you home for once?”
The words sounded familiar. Archie frowned, trying to recall why as the servant returned with his coat. He was glad for it once they got into the corridors – he must have got used to the stifling heat of the prince’s rooms, for it truly felt like winter once they left the wing and he shivered immediately. He caught sight of his reflection in one of the windows. He looked distressingly normal, no indication of his evening of emotional turmoil evident at all.
“Those are my words!” said Archie, remembering suddenly. He’d had that exact thought when he’d resented having to escort Baron Norxen’s daughter home. He’d known Damaris had already infiltrated his thoughts by then, but it was still mortifying that he’d remembered. Archie had been so particularly pathetic that day.
