Asmodeus laughed, a loud booming sound. “Well, first of all, our good pal Caspian hails from there originally, so he’s a great travel guide. Plus, Samara is famous for having some of the most beautiful women in the world, excluding your luminous self, of course.”
“Of course,” she acknowledged, straight-faced. She tucked the information into the back of her mind to learn a little more about Samara and its history.
“And I do best when surrounded by beautiful ladies. If I ever abandon our merry little band here,” he said, shooting a cheeky grin Caspian’s way. “you will find me there, trying to find the next mortal female to turn me good and bring me back to the light.” He gave her mock soulful eyes.
She laughed outright.
Caspian glared at the two of them.
Silence stretched, and she glanced at Caspian curiously, wondering why he was so bothered by their cheerful banter when he added nothing to the conversation.
Guilt clawed at her chest.
How could she laugh and banter with them when those women’s bodies hung in the cellars below, their blood feeding these very demons?
Her expression darkened, the merriment falling off her face. She eyed their red-filled goblets with distaste and felt her stomach twist into knots. Suddenly not hungry anymore, she pushed away her plate.
Elizabeth smoothed her skirts, wondering if it would be rude to excuse herself so early into the meal, when Caspian suddenly spoke, “My servant tells me you wish to see the city of Veridas.”
“Er, yes.” She quickly forced a smile to her lips. “I would love to see more of Arboras while I’m here. Only if you’re alright with it, of course.”
He looked bored and nodded noncommittally. “Alright. Perhaps the day after tomorrow.”
“That would be lovely.” Her tone sounded curt to her ears, so she added politely, “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”
“Not a worry. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you.”
Awkward silence settled between them.
She grimaced and tried another bite of potato, trying to convince her mind that their goblets contained nothing but wine. Her stomach rolled, but it would serve no one to starve herself, so she forced down a few more bites of food.
Unable to eat another bite, she set her plate aside and turned to Asmodeus. Unable to contain her curiosity, she asked, “So what is this curse?”
Asmodeus’s expression instantly soured, the easy grin dropping off his face. “Is it not obvious? I can't change my form. Cursed to look like a demon for eternity. I can’t hide what I am anymore.” He angrily swept a hand to indicatehis figure. Admittedly, though, she had gotten used to him; the first time she saw him had been unsettling to her human heart.
“Finnigan is working on a cure, or to find the witch responsible,” Caspian cut in.
“Could the witch undo it?”
“No,” Asmodeus said flatly. He took a long swig from his cup. “But killing the witch would lift all her spells.”
She couldn't suppress the shudder that ran down her spine.
***
To her delight, Fiza offered to join her for a walk through the trails. They meandered through the forest and found a lovely clearing by a stream. Fiza had the foresight to pack a red picnic blanket and a modest lunch of figs, cheeses, and bread. It was thoughtful and kind of her.
Perhaps becoming friends with Fiza wouldn’t be the worst idea. Elizabeth was trapped in a web of spiders, and her list of allies was painfully short. A friend would be good—helpful even—to stave off the loneliness and patch the hole in her heart where her friends and family used to be.
They lunched in the valley surrounded by more of those flowers with glossy black petals. Elizabeth touched one to admire it, cringing as the flower, once again, fell apart at the slightest touch.
“Tell me more about your friends and family,” Fiza said, drawing her attention back to their conversation.
“Well, I grew up an only child and—”
“Look!” Fiza cried, pointing to a large white bird circling overhead.
