“And carry the weight of your title on my shoulders? Not a chance. I don’t envy what you’ve inherited, Duchess, and the Prince’s kingdom is in ruins. I’ll gladly patch you up if it means I won’t be the one to fix it.” She flashed me a wry grin.
I returned it, finding myself already growing fond of Sabrina, despite my former misgivings.
Apollo grunted as Sabrina pulled the last of the stitches from his shoulder, clearly not enjoying the process any more than I had. She bound it up in bandages and turned to me. From one of her pockets, she retrieved a device that looked halfway between a pair of scissors and a box cutter.
“Do you have to?” I asked as she took a knee on the ground before me.
“Would you rather they stayed forever? Shirt up, kindly,” Sabrina ordered.
I glanced at Sitri, who scanned the room, watching Vapula’s demons as they moved. His magic would unveil any desire to harm me. Though I trusted him to keep me safe, I still missed having the gifts of Lust and Lies myself. They’d prove useful in this hall full of strangers who’d aided in my capture, in the war against Sitri, in Apollo’s presumed torture.What I wouldn’t give to know what they were thinking.
With a sigh, I lifted my shirt and revealed my wound. Despite a week of rest and food, healing had been slow. Gnarled flesh ran from my ribcage towards the top of my pelvis, forming a vertical line that intersected the horizontal scar Mara had given me. It was grisly, two inches wide, with thick bruising on either side, and held together by staples. The sight of them, caked in dried blood, made me feel woozy.
“Wait,that’sthe wound?” Apollo asked, shock crossing his face.
Something moved on my left, and I jumped, turning my head. The black-haired demon had crept down the table to see for himself, and I hadn’t noticed when he’d left his place. His inquisitive eyes flicked over my stomach, taking in every detail. I leaned away from him, if only to create a semblance of distance between us.
“My, thatisbad,” he chimed in, shaking his head. “On my own soldiers, a wound like that would be considered a lost cause.”
“And who exactly are you…?” I asked.
“Amos. Military general, and your humble servant. Now that this war is over, I’m looking forward to my first vacation in two hundred years, Duchess.” He gave me a wink, and Sitri audibly growled.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think vacations are in any of our futures,” I admitted, though I found myself wishing otherwise. After a few short days in Illeinstrin, I already wanted to get away from the nightmare I’d inherited.
My Prince sauntered up to my side. “Even if they were, that is a presumptuous request to make,” he retorted. “The Duchess has yet to accept my surrender. We remain enemies for now, and this is but a truce.”
“You plan to surrender, my Prince?” The question came from the infernal demon. When he turned, I noted the cherry-red sigil on his arm. One of Sitri’s, then.
My Prince nodded. “I do. In fact, I am prepared to take up mytraditional role at our new Duchess’ side after this war has ended.”
“I thought you didn’t rule courts,” Apollo said, a grin spreading across his face.
“I have never been given a court worth ruling.” Sitri gave a smile that mirrored his legate’s. “For now, Lillia has convinced me.”
“And what about your favorite warmonger? Plan to send me home and stick me with your work, eh?”
“A fitting punishment for a disobedient general,” Sitri answered, and Apollo’s face soured. “I must oversee things here, at least for a time. It will be your responsibility to rebuild in my stead. Oh, and I’m keeping Oberon close. I have a feeling you can manage on your own.”
The infernal demon, presumably Oberon, looked away from his Prince and back towards his work. “Figures. Just promoted and already reassigned.”
“You do realize what this maneuver will cost, my Duchess?” Amos whispered, leaning in close. “Five cities, three mines, a productive stretch of rot, not to mention the labor—”
I raised my hand, interrupting him. “Returning what Vapula took from the Kingdom of Lust and Lies isn’t a cost; it’s an investment. We are scientists. He is a diplomat. We all stand to benefit from working together.”
“I’m not so sure we do.” The objection came from the platinum-haired demoness, who hadn’t moved from her place against the wall.
Arms still crossed, she pushed away from where she leaned. She strode towards the table and threw herself down in an empty seat. For a few moments, she studied the maps laid out there. Then her eyes met mine.
“It’s impossible,” she said, “that the Prince pulled this off alone. You were well accounted for, Duchess, and Zephyr reported Lantyca had fallen. You expect me to believe Prince Sitri somehow crawled out of the wreckage, assembled an army, and launched an attack on Illeinstrin thatrocked the Kingdom of Scholars and Savants to its core? I don’t buy it.”
A room full of smiles died in an instant, Sitri’s and Apollo’s chief among them. This was the detail that could risk our credibility, the one I’d hoped no one would press.
I looked to Sitri. He tilted his head, waiting for confirmation, and I gave a resigned nod. There was no point in hiding it now. As casually as he breathed, my Prince pulled a letter from his pocket and tossed it down in the center of the table.
Crisp, white paper. An envelope with a broken, iridescent indigo seal, stamped with the sigil of the Duke Zaleos. Amos gasped, Sabrina stiffened, and the silver-haired demoness’ eyes shot open wide. She retrieved the letter. Her face twisted as she took in every word. When she looked up again, she wore a look of horrified anger.
“Please tell me you didn’t.”
