She had to be grateful, she reminded herself. If not for Caspian, she would be bound for a lifetime of misery at the hands of the duke.
He had saved her, in his own way.
Being grateful to a murderer made her feel like the worst sort of person.
***
When she entered the great hall the next evening, both Asmodeus and Caspian were there. As she sat down, she glanced at the goblets in front of them, with revulsion etched on her features.
“Hey, honey, want some?” Asmodeus swirled his goblet and pretended to offer her a sip.
Her stomach churned, threatening to rebel.
“Just kidding.” Asmodeus grinned broadly. “What did your pretty self get up to today?”
“I went for a walk with the horses, then I spent the afternoon reading,” she responded coolly. “How about yourself?”
“Ooh, laying about, plotting the demise of my enemies. The usual.” Asmodeus winked at her. “I hear you spend all your time reading. You must be very clever,” Asmodeus added. An attempt at flattery. She doubted these men would understand a woman’s cleverness if it was staring them in the face.
“Hardly,” she replied instead. “I simply enjoy the hobby.”
“Hobbies are so important. Do you want to know some of mine?” Asmodeus asked. Caspian was silent and studied the two of them with cool interest, offering nothing. Or perhaps he simply did not care.
“Sure, what are your favourite things to do?” she asked half-heartedly, serving herself some more vegetables and soup.
“Guess.”
Elizabeth straightened in her seat, pursing her lips and humming as if giving it real thought. “I don’t know what demons do for fun. Torture innocent people? Bathe in human blood? Hunt witches?” Her lips tugged upwards. “Am I close?”
“I mean, bathing in blood does sound—and we can all agree—fantastic, but I have other hobbies. For instance, I like to fly.” He shot Caspian a meaningful look as he said this, and Elizabeth wondered what it meant.
“Fly?” she asked, curious despite her resolve not to be.
“Yes, these things,” he said, wiggling his wings, “are good for some things.”
She stared at the appendages, which she hardly ever let herself look at for fear of looking like she was gawking. He wiggled them to get her attention. They were horned at the top, and a purple vein ran down the black velvet membrane. Her fingers itched to touch them, just to feel their texture. Was it lightly furred, or did it feel smooth like skin?
“You must have to climb very high to avoid giving people a fright,” she mused aloud, hoping her voice came out indifferent and casual to hide the curiosity eating at her.
“I do,” he said. “Can't have the pretty ladies fainting over my gorgeous self.”
She chuckled, despite herself. Caspian was watching their exchange oddly, a muscle in his jaw twitching, which made her want to converse more with Asmodeus, just to irk him.
“Have you always had wings? And do you fly every day?”
“Yes, and as often as I can. I fly through the mountains and the ravines and hunt deer and goats to bring back for supper. It’s fun. The wind in your hair, navigating the wind currents, the fear of falling. Being able to go anywhere in the world.”
“That does sound wonderful. Have you travelled much then?” Despite her revulsion at demons, she found herself intrigued.
“Before I was cursed, I travelled everywhere.” He grinned, reclining in his seat. “I'm particularly fond of Israr, the desert lands. I could live there for all my days.”
“Asmodeus just likes to sun himself,” Caspian said drily.
“I do not! All the ladies of Samara, that’s the tourist capital of Israr, girl, have likely mourned my absence. They’ve probably erected a shrine in my honour.” He sighed wistfully. “They probably light candles every night, and sigh over their wine, lamenting the loss of my magnificent presence in their streets.”
“I'm sure they lay flowers on it every night,” Elizabeth said, nodding consolingly. Caspian glared daggers at Asmodeus, it seemed, for acquiring her attention.
“Why the desert?” she asked suddenly, genuinely curious. “Don’t you lot prefer the mystery and solitude of the mountains and snowy terrain of the north? Where the nights are longest?”
