Seeing a bench, she sat down heavily, and put her head in her hands. She took deep, shaky breaths and stared at the ground.
A pair of black boots entered her vision.
“Are you all right?” The demon’s words were gruffer than kind, but she appreciated them all the same. She glanced upwards, into his otherworldly gaze.
She steadied herself and swallowed. “Yes.”
Caspian offered her a hand, but she refused it, choosing to stand up on her own and crossing her arms over her chest. Without a word, they walked in the gardens side by side. Caspian stayed solemn and quiet, as if he understood her need for distance.
The cool night breeze whispered across her skin as they walked among the roses. Moonlight silvered the path beneath their feet, and the distant sounds of the ball—laughter and music—seemed to belong to another world entirely. Silence stretched between them.
She walked ahead, stopping in front of a large statue of the Sun God. The gods had created this beautiful land, and were supposed to be taking care of its people.
She tightened her arms over her chest. If the gods were real, they were cruel.
When Elizabeth and the demon had completed the circuit of the gardens twice, he stopped, his eyes searching hers, as if looking for the truth of the thoughts that were running through her mind.
She averted her eyes, not knowing what to say, her fingers absently massaging her wrist.
“You cannot think of binding yourself to such a man,” Caspian said.
Her eyes burned.
She was silent for a long while. Finally she asked, “And what would you have me do?”
Chapter 7
New Beginnings
The demon waited for her while she penned a letter and slipped it under her parents’ door. Caspian looked pleased, and led her to his carriage, an onyx masterpiece of black velvet and ebony.
Instead of opening the door, he turned to face her, a contract suddenly appearing between his fingers. “Before we continue,” he said smoothly, holding the contract out for her to sign.
She eyed it warily. “I don’t have a quill, or any ink.”
He handed her the contract and procured a small inkpot and quill from a pocket inside his cloak.
She stammered, “I—May I have a chance to read it over again before I sign?”
“Certainly.” His words were honey sweet.
She skimmed the contract, her fingers tensing on the parchment. The wording remained frustratingly vague, but the terms were clear enough: in exchange for spiriting her away from this nightmare, she would give him blood once a week for three months. Her blood, freely given, to a demon. The thought made her stomach twist, yet compared to Duke Howard’s wandering hands … she swallowed hard. The contract promised Caspian would not hurt her during her time with him, and when it was over, he would give her enough gold for her to make her way in this world.
Freedom, at the cost of her blood.
A few weeks ago, she would have laughed at the proposition. Now, she stared at the signature line.
She re-read the sum he would give her at the end, and her fingers trembled on the parchment. It would be enough to buy herself a small home somewhere and never have to come crawling back to her father.
It seemed too good to be true, and she wondered why he would offer so much only to gain so little. Her eyes skimmed the page a second time, looking for the trick, but she found no cause for alarm.
She held the parchment against the side of the carriage, and he handed her the quill, freshly dipped in ink. She signed at the bottom with an elegant, loopysignature. As soon as she finished, he snatched the parchment out of her hands and rolled it up, tucking it back into his cloak.
“Excellent.” She watched his eyes glow and his expression turn victorious.
She hesitated, a wave of apprehension coming over her. What had she just done?
Caspian stood on the step of the carriage and looked back at her, raising his brows. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
