I’m confident that beneath my armor I carry more than one healing bruise she’s left upon me.
“She’s had so much taken from her,” the demon adds and her dark brows crease. “I didn’t think it possible for her to have anything left. Not after everything Netharis did.”
A heated blaze of anger flares in my chest at the thought of Netharis.
“You knew her in the hells?” I ask, managing even tones.
Deep, dark pools of black meet my stare.
“For a time I loved her.” She lets her hands fall to the armrests. “Could never tell her though. As I’m sure you’ve learned, demons aren’t the most forthcoming on matters of the heart.”
Cenviri scoffs a small laugh through his nose.
“Not that it would have made a difference if I had. Netharis liked to keep his most prized possessions under lock and key, and within sight.” She taps a long black talon against the polished wood of the armrest. “When the bastard discovered my…interference, I, along with the majority of my House, was forced into hiding.”
“You didn’t fight for her?” I ask as I study the demon.
It’s not a question rooted in any semblance of jealousy. Rather genuine curiosity. I know so little about Ves’ time in the hells. The details she’s shared make it clear those she trusted were few and far between and liable to change on a daily basis.
“How could I?” Druka asks, tossing a single shoulder in a shrug. “If I did, I’d be going against my Houseandthe god of death.” She scoffs a bitter laugh. “Not everyone in this room is an ancient entity.”
The demon’s eyes drift to Eve.
“I did what I could when I learned it was Ves who nearly shattered the hells,” she says. “After that, I knew her escape was imminent. I wanted to make sure she had someone—a soul willing to keep her alive, to always be on her side, no matter the cost.”
So she sent Eve.
“You didn’t strike me as the sentimental type, Druka,” Cenviri says in a quiet tease.
“I’m not,” she attests, leveling a stern glare at the necromancer near half her size.
Cenviri smirks. “Next time consider a better lie. Try blaming it on keeping the company of mortals for months on end.”
With a roll of her eyes she looks at me. “I won’t apologize for surviving,” she drawls in Malbolge. “But she has Eve now,” she adds in common tongue. “And you.”
I’ve not yet mastered speaking the language of the hells. But Eve’s lessons these last few months have certainly made it easier to understand. Hearing the demonic tongue still causes minor discomfort, but thanks to Ves’ vulgar utterances, I’ve establisheda growing tolerance.
“That’s something you’ll need to consider,” Cenviri says, nodding toward Eve. “Vaelyn will retaliate. He’s due a soul.” He folds his hands in his lap.
“Leaving her wasn’t an option,” I counter.
“Queen Ves would have destroyed Cal Anore,” Cyran says, peering over his shoulder at the necromancer and demon.
“I’m not arguing your decision,” Cenviri says. “In fact, I agree with it. Had I your capability there are many lives I’d gladly return. Unfortunately, I stand as your counterpart. Grantinglifewith my touch is… outside my capabilities.” He offers a sanguine smile.
But taking life isn’t.
Cenviri isDeath.
“Do you know of others?” I ask. “Like… us?”
“Aside from the two of you?” Cenviri asks, his brows lifting. “One. Possibly two.”
I keep silent, waiting for him to continue.
“The first is Zuriel. Though I haven’t seen him in some time. Centuries,” he answers. “And like you, I don’t believe he realizes or remembers who he is. Or maybe he does and he wishes to remain hidden as a son to Gaia. Either way, he is Light.”
Zuriel… a son of Gaia…
