Silent, I follow in her wake.
Why would Druka sever their demonic channel?
Eve stops, balancing her boots upon the apex of the roof to stare at the docks and water. But the distant look in her eyes tells me she isn’t enjoying the view, she’s turning within—reaching for Druka.
Sitting beside her, I fold my legs beneath me, and enjoy the view for us both. It’s a view I’ve grown to adore since my return. Especially during sunset.
Eve scoffs, a dry sound. “Usually there’ssomething,” she says, plopping herself down beside me. She crosses her outstretched legs at the ankle, leaning back on her palms. “A snarky comment here, teasing laughter there. But these last few weeks… nothing. Dead silent.” She purses her lips tight and shakes her head in a slow toss. “I don’t understand it.”
It’s certainly strange.
But I know Druka.
She treats her contracted like pets—they’re rewarded for good behavior, punished for bad. But nothing Eve has done—that I know of—would warrant silence. Eve would find the sudden disconnect jarring. The demonic channel is designed to foster longing.
Unless—
“Did she release you?” I ask, my head swiveling in her direction.
Eve pulls at the collar of her dark gray shirt, exposing the delicate band of Malbolge runes inked into her skin. Her demon mark remains, plain around the base of her throat.
The tiny spark of elation in my heart nosedives.
“No, then.” I loose a sigh.
Releasing the grip on her collar, her shirt springs back into place, hiding away the mark of the damned.
Of course Druka wouldn’t randomly release Eve.
As much as I adore Eve and think her worthy of the world, Druka would have to answer to Miiphirys upon releasing her, and I doubt Druka finds Eve worthy of enduring that punishment.
“I’ve grown accustomed to having her around,” Eve admits, pushing a few of her dark braids over her shoulder. “It’s weird not hearing her.”
It shouldn’t feelweird.
It should feelsuspiciousandworrisome.
“Be mindful of the channel’s influence, Eve,” I warn and she scoffs.
With a roll of her eyes she says, “I’m not falling in love with a succubus. I know better than that.” She shoots me a halfhearted grin.
I scoff, returning her grin with one of my own. “When shedecides you’re worth speaking to again, tell her the next skill she should teach you is humor,” I retort, earning myself an amused but dismissing huff.
“Says the cretin,” she laughs, leaning back on her arms. “Also, I believe the schedule you sniped from Cyran is wrong. There isn’t a single ship on the horizon.”
Turning my gaze to the boat-less lake, I heave a sigh as the last bits of sunlight begin to sink behind the world.
“You might be right.”
“Gods, I love when I’m right,” Eve sighs contentedly. She lets her head fall back to stare above. “You didn’t check the date on the schedule, did you?”
I don’t bother giving her the pleasure of a response.
She laughs quietly as she nods, reveling in her right-ness once again.
It’s a shame really. I’ve come to enjoy watching the ships arrive at dock. A few consistent crew members have come to recognize me. They must run trade lines between Ollora and other lakeside towns, keeping them mostly local. They wave their greetings when they spot me sitting along the rooftops.
None have dared to approach though. Which, considering the general audacity of fae, is surprising. But their retained distance is preferred.
