Chapter Thirty-Four
Sitri certainly knew how to make an entrance, much to my displeasure. Without giving me a chance to compose myself, he threw open the doors to the meeting hall, and every head in the room turned towards us.
If Sitri’s home had been luxurious, this place was truly opulent. Huge spiral patterns marked the walls, and the floor was made of polished stones. Even the table and chairs were decadent, made of copper and cushioned with silk-like fabric. The crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling ran on electricity, just as the one in Vapula’s bedroom had.
This place was so different from Sitri’s cozy manor. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it.
There were demons in the room, too; five of them. I didn’t recognize the three at the back. Apollo sat near the door, his crimson eyes and dirty-blond hair sparkling in the bright electric light. It was strange to see him without his armor or even a shirt. Given the number of wounds he bore, I understood the reason for his partial undress.
He donned a smile at the sight of me, leaping to his feet, nearlyknocking over the demoness at his side. She was tall and slender, with dark umber skin, and wore something resembling nurse scrubs. A magnificent mane of near-black hair framed her face and fell down her shoulders in tight coils.
Apollo rushed forward to greet me. The demoness followed close behind, smiling and shaking her head as she tossed aside her tools.
“Glad to see you’re up and moving, Duchess!” Apollo practically shouted.
He pulled me in close for a hug, making me groan and stumble as my wounds protested. Sitri chuckled. I shot him a sharp glance and returned Apollo’s hug.
“You’re alright?” I asked. “You had me worried, you know. I saw you at the battle. I didn’t think you and Sitri would make it out of there.”
Apollo released me with a laugh of his own and took a step back. “I’m doing better now than I was. Turns out Vapula doesn’t treat his prisoners very well. But hey, I’m still around, and that counts for something, right?”
“You were taken as a captive?”
I glanced at Apollo’s shoulder. The sigil that burned there was crimson—not verdant. Vapula hadn’t bound him, and though he’d suffered at the late Duke’s orders, he hadn’t been annihilated, either. My brow furrowed as I tried to place that mercy among all Vapula’s cruelty.
“More like ‘offered himself to the enemy on a silver platter.’” The Prince stared his legate down, face tightening. “To be clear, if you ever try that kind of stunt again, fresh scars will be the least of your worries.”
Apollo shrugged. “You weren’t about to walk away from that battlefield. Bronwen needed time to get you out, and I knew I could buy it, so I did.”
Bronwen. With everything that had happened in the past few weeks, I’d forgotten about her. I glanced around, unable to find her crimson hair and imposing form among the unfamiliar faces. “Bronwen wenthome, I’m guessing?”
Sitri nodded. “We parted ways at the border I share with Haagenti.”
The demoness who’d attended Apollo took hold of his arm. Despite her gentle touch, he still winced.
“Alright, back in the chair with you,” she ordered as she pulled him away. “I’m not done with you yet. Sit now, and we might get these stitches out before you heal over them.” Then she turned her attention to me, her shoulders lax, and a slight smile on her face. “You take a seat, too, Duchess. I will need to inspect your wound, and if you’re healing well, the staples can come out today.”
“Right,” I answered.
Staples. That’s what had been used to close the wound Vapula gave me, not sutures. The memory of Sitri pulling loose threads from my body still made my skin crawl, and the prospect of letting Vapula’s legate remove sharp metal from my flesh sent a shiver down my spine.
If the demoness noticed my reaction, she gave no indication. She returned to Apollo, scissors in hand, and began working on his wounded shoulder. I pulled up a chair next to her.
“Sabrina,” she introduced herself. “Medical Director of the Kingdom of Scholars and Savants, at your service.”
“Lillia. Um… Duchess, I suppose.”
A snort came from across the room. I looked up and found the source—a pale, older-looking demoness leaning against the back wall with her arms crossed. Her short, platinum hair did little to obscure her scathing crimson gaze and the creases that marked her face.
I knew I’d be facing challenges, having dethroned a powerful demon and broken with Hell’s tradition, but I hadn’t expected them to come so soon.
Two demons sat at the table just in front of her. One was an infernal who boasted massive horns, cloven-hoofed feet, and a swishing bovine tail. The other was a human-like demon with black hair and golden-brown skin, who snickered at his wall-leaning companion. Between them, maps and parchment covered the table, marked with pins and ink. The infernal demon gave a snort of his own and shot the demoness a glare, sharp as a dagger.
“Sabrina is the reason you still stand, darling.” Sitri’s voice distracted me from the altercation, bringing me back to my half of the room. “I’m sure her deeds will become apparent in time. Of the legates you inherited, she is the only one I would trust with my soul—and yours.”
Sabrina laughed. “Please, you give me too much credit. Hell did most of the work for me. I just prettied things up a bit.”
“Still,” I said, “I appreciate what youdidn’tdo. It would have been easy to slit my throat, or Sitri’s, if you wanted to.”
