“Exchanged gifts?”
“A pomegranate,” I admitted reluctantly. “And a ring. Sort of.”
Daziel held up his hand and wiggled his fingers, the cheap ring I’d thrown at him flashing.
“I cannot,” Aunt Tirtzah muttered. Then she pinned me with her gaze. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me this immediately?”
“Um.” I hesitated, feeling awkward. “It only happened a month ago.”
She looked almost hurt, then nodded briskly. “I’d appreciate,in the future, if you let me know about any magical entanglements you find yourself in.”
I nodded, trying to look obedient. My hands squeezed each other hard enough to hurt.
Her fingers tapped ceaselessly against the desk. “To make sure I have this clear. Your betrothal is binding, but you’re not planning to either banish himormarry him?”
When she put it like that, it sounded like I had no idea what I was doing. Which. I did not. “I’m waiting until after the graduation festival,” I said. “Then we’ll part ways.”
Aunt Tirtzah rubbed her forehead. “What are you getting out of this?” she asked Daziel.
He smiled, showing his teeth. “Croissants.”
She closed her eyes, looking pained. When she opened them, she’d become more focused. “This is the largest social event I’ve hosted in half a year, and I don’t want it to be a disaster.”
“I don’t want to make it a disaster,” I said quickly.
“If you don’t,” she said, iron in her voice as she leaned forward, “the two of you will go out there and dance and mingle, and the three of us will behave as though we’ve all known about this betrothal for ages. What are you called, here in the human lands?”
He inclined his head slightly. “Daziel bar Cathmeus.”
She repeated it to herself as though committing it to memory, then added, “Send in Chava and wait in the hall.”
We did. Once her assistant had closed the office door, I didn’t know where to look, cringing as my aunt’s words replayed themselves in my mind.Have you slept together?What a mortifying question.
But when I snuck a look at Daziel, he appeared remorseful, clearly not dwelling on the same part of the conversation as me.Which, fine. I didn’t want him focused on sleeping with me anyway.
He twisted his signet ring and gazed at the floor. “I’m sorry. I knew you didn’t want me here. I should have respected your wishes.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
He frowned. “I didn’t realize how serious you were, I suppose. How much it would upset you. I’m used to statements being challenges. Games. You weren’t playing a game, and while I mostly knew that…I’m still getting used to how serious humans can be. How deeply you feel things.”
“Don’t you feel things deeply?” I asked, baffled. “You were very serious the night with the winds and the caves.”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “But…we don’t hold on to things as long as humans do? I’m used to people getting upset but not staying upset.” He bowed his head. “You’re the first human I’ve known. I’m still getting used to it.”
“Well, you’re the first demon,” I said wryly. “So I guess we’re equal.”
“Shayd.”
“Shayd,” I corrected. The singular of “shedim,” the term Daziel used for demons. “I’m sorry. Is ‘demon’ rude?”
He shrugged. “It’s incorrect. And has negative connotations.”
I nodded, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Shall we strike a deal?” he asked, his mood shifting. Well, hehadjust mentioned he didn’t hang on to things as long as humans. “Since we are here, let us endeavor to have fun. Itisa party.”
“A party for stuffy politicians,” I said wryly. There’d barely been anyone under forty in the courtyard.
