But they didn’t leave, so she continued eating.
“Well, if I am to stay here … perhaps I can go to the market myself,” Alora suggested, but their expressions immediately went on guard. “As much as I enjoy bread and cheese, humans require more than this to survive. And it would spare Deimos the trouble of fetching my meals.”
He tsked. “Clever, isn’t she?”
Calla shot him a glare. “Alora… that might not be possible at the moment. Our kind don’t go out during the day and there is no sun here for a garden. It’s best if you stay here for now. We can provide anything you desire.”
She nodded slowly, processing this information. This really was a prison.
Once Alora finished eating, Calla gave a small nod of satisfaction of a task completed. Then both demons exhaled together. Their heads tilted as they sniffed the air.
“Did it help?” Alora asked.
Deimos shook his head. “Scarcely. Perhaps she needs more?”
“I doubt that will do,” Calla said, studying her with a thoughtful frown.
“Is my scent truly that awful?”
Calla and Deimos exchanged a glance.
“It is… awfullyenticing,” Calla admitted at last, her voice careful. Her gaze flicked to the gap beneath the bed, a faint frown creasing her lips.
Alora shifted, tugging the sheets lower as if by accident, curtaining the kitten’s hiding place. She didn’t want them to take away her only friend here.
Deimos scoffed again. “Dangerously so.”
As their words echoed in Alora’s mind, she recalled the swarm of demons tearing through Calveron’s army. Some were eating them alive.
Her stomach flipped. “Is that why Rune has confined me to my room?”
The question made the Harbingers stiffen.
Calla’s nod was tight. Measured. Like confirming a detail she hadn’t meant to speak aloud.
“It would be dangerous for you to wander the castle unattended. Not all our kind have mastered restraint.”
Deimos scoffed. “She will need Nightstone if sire hopes his bride to survive here.”
Calla shot him a glare.
“Nightstone?” Alora repeated curiously.
The female Harbinger sighed. “It’s a special weapon ore, my lady.”
“Deadly to our kind,” Deimos uttered flatly. “Demon Hunters had forged it out of our blood, but I disembowel any who get too close.”
Calla smacked him upside the back of the head. He snapped his teeth at her hand ferally, barely missing her fingers.
“No weapons,” she said sharply. “The queen is safe so long as she remains here.” Turning back to Alora, Calla softened slightly. “The castle has hidden your chambers from the rest of the court, my lady. Even so, Hadeon stands guard outside your door. In case any do dare come sniffing about.”
Alora stiffened. “Why? What do I smell like?”
She sniffed her tunic, smelling a trace of the floral soap from last night’s bath.
Deimos’ tail twitched in a predator’s rhythm as he leaned forward, his eyes glowing with a slow-burning hunger.
“You smell likedemon food.”
