Yet now I’d provided incontestable proof of a demon betrothed. And while humans were wary of demons, we were also fascinated by them—they were, after all, powerful, magical beings. Catching the attention of one might be foolhardy but also undeniably thrilling.
Still, much as I liked showing Élodie up, I should swallow my pride and ask for her help. She was one of the best spellcasters in our year. I took a deep breath. Dad always said the sooner you admitted your mistake, the sooner you could move on.
Then Élodie smiled at Daziel. “It’s so funny, no one believed Naomi when she said she was betrothed to a demon. But here you are!”
My pride snapped into place. I couldn’t do it. Daziel seemed more nuisance than danger, and Élodie was more annoying still. “Here we are,” I said shortly. “Excuse us. We’re running late.”
Daziel followed me, leaving, no doubt, a bewildered Élodie behind. Madame Hadar wasn’t behind her desk in the entranceway, so I couldn’t ask her for help; plus, I didn’t want to with Élodie in earshot. Frustrated, I slammed my shoulder into Testylier House’s door to open it against the winds.
Dad said the winds hadn’t been like this when he grew up, but in the last few years they’d increased in ferocity. Even without the wind flags, you could tell the direction they came from by their scents: The northern wind carried marshy loam and sea salt fromthe delta; the east wind, the forests; the west, the faintest hint of the wilderness. The south required no gentle hints—when the southern winds blew, they carried rain and thunder and lightning. There were other winds, too—the harsh Trio Winds of winter; the dry Maestril of spring; the rare Corisoc, which covered everything in a layer of fine red dust from the southern deserts. And while I found their wild strength intoxicating, it definitely wasn’t normal.
“Where are we going?” Daziel asked. The salamander poked his head out of Daziel’s shirt, his small black tongue darting out as though he could taste the winds.
“The boulangerie. Then school.” If Daziel was here because he thought we were affianced, maybe the best way to get rid of him was to be blunt. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m breaking up with you.”
“What?” He stopped in his tracks. Walkers parted around us—a pair of middle-aged women with pumping arms, a pack of schoolchildren in matching uniforms, a businessman who gave us a dirty look, then stumbled back when he realized what Daziel was. “You’re what?”
“I’m dumping you. I’m ending our betrothal.”
Daziel swallowed and blinked rapidly. He sounded, of all things, lost and a little wounded. “Why? Have I offended you?”
“You did break into my rooms.” This was absurd. I refused to feel bad for having boundaries. I started walking again, and he fell in beside me. “It wasn’t a real betrothal. We don’t even know each other.”
He made a frustrated sound. “That’s what the betrothal period is for. And I do know you. Your name is Naomi bat Yardena. You’re from the Naphtali tribe, near Foillefw.” I didn’t recognizethe word; I wondered if it was a demon name for the high plains near my village. “My name is Daziel, son of Cathmeus, son of Khasmodai. I am apprenticed to the stone-garden keepers.”
“What does that mean?”
“I tend rocks.”
“Sounds…enthralling.” We passed a stone wall draped with bougainvillea. The flowers matched the pink clouds so unnervingly I almost tripped, certain they’d been red yesterday. Maybe I’d been mistaken—or maybe magic was getting even stranger in Talum.
He gave me a wry smile that transcended species. “Yes, I feel similarly.”
I recognized the droll, exasperated note in his voice—it reminded me of my own when I’d told my parents how badly I wanted to see the world beyond our village. “Is that why you’re here? You’re bored. You somehow heard me say your name, and you were like, ‘Great excuse. Peace out, wilderness.’ How old are you?”
He set his jaw mulishly, like I’d challenged his brilliant plan. “I have eighteen winters. I’ve almost reached my majority.”
My age, then. I felt a touch of sympathy, though not enough to let myself get dragged into his escape plans. “Don’t you have somewhere else to go? What are you going to do here—follow me everywhere?”
“We can explore the city.” He sounded hopeful. “There’s supposed to be dancing and opera and food enveloped in boiling oil.”
Had he never tasted donuts, or falafel, or fries? Now I genuinely felt bad for him. And I did yearn to explore the rest of Talum, since so far, I’d barely left the Scholars’ Quarter. But Iimagined exploring it with a demon would cause chaos. “I have school.”
We reached the bakery, where a long line snaked out the door. When we joined the end, the customers shot Daziel alarmed looks—notable, since Talumizans made a big deal of never being surprised by anything. Once I saw the grand duke’s cousin on her way to the opera, and all my friends from outside Talum gaped, while the city kids acted almost sick with ennui.
I noticed they could precisely describe her outfit later, though.
“I don’t mind school,” Daziel said cheerfully. “At home, we study constantly. I am considered the top of the lykeion.”
“Cool,” I said. “Congrats. Isn’t your family going to miss you?”
“I have seven brothers and six sisters. It will be some time before they notice my absence.”
And I’d thought having three sisters was a lot. “That’s…a lot of siblings.”
Another wry smile. “I am aware.”
We reached the front of the line. A display of mouthwatering pastries greeted us—lemon tartlets with tightly clustered raspberries, chocolate-glazed éclairs, canelés with caramelized crusts. Unfortunately, they’d all set me back far too dearly, so I stuck with the order within my student budget. “A black coffee, please. And a demi baguette.”
