Sitri reached out, and his hand touched the glowing green mark on my arm. He traced its lines slowly, unblinking, as if transfixed.“Youareyour soul now, Lillia. He owns you. You are as good as a slave to him. Surely you didn’t need me to figure that out?”
The Prince’s fingers against my skin suddenly felt oppressive. Even as they trailed up my shoulder and across my collarbone,I froze, unable to breathe, shackled by his caress.
“I’ve grown quite fond of you, darling. It would be a shame if our little game came to an end. I’ll need something to convince my legates of your worth.” His lips curled into a smile. “Why don’t you give me a reason to keep you around a while longer?”
Sitri leaned in close again, taking up my space, stealing my air. His fingers played along my skin. His touch was gentle, yet commanding. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t tell if it was because of Sitri’s threat or the way he exploited my fear. He was so different from Vapula, and still so much like him—trailing his hands over my body, shredding my autonomy.
“Well?” Sitri growled. “Tick tock, Lillia. I don’t have all night.”
“I… I can work with weapons,” I choked out at last.
Sitri raised his eyebrows. His fingers lifted from my skin.
“Vapula trained me. He gave me a gift. I can use whatever tools you have at your disposal.” My voice wavered. “I saw your soldiers’ equipment out there on the battlefield. It’s crude and outdated. If you want any chance in this war, you need to start by upgrading your weaponry.”
Our eyes locked. I held my breath, waiting for a response, for the Prince to decide my fate. Sitri pushed himself to his feet, spattering blood onto the floor. My chest heaved as I drew in the air that his presence had denied me.
“Very well. Be ready to prove yourself useful first thing tomorrow morning if you want to earn your keep. I look forward to seeing what you’re capable of.”
Sitri spun on his heels and made for the door. My stomach lurched. I had so many thoughts racing through my mind, so many unanswered questions. One rose above the others.
“Wait!”
I stood, nearly slipping on bloodstained sheets. I was aware of just how haggard I must have looked. A strand of hair hung over my face, obscuring my vision as my breath came in short, strained rasps. Sitri halted. He gave a glance over his shoulder. Though he did his best to hide it, I had his absolute attention.
“If I help you fight against Vapula, can you get his bindings off of me?”I asked.
A low, raspy sound emanated from the demon. A chill ran down my spine as I realized it was laughter.
“You want them gone, darling? You’ll need new ones to replace them.”
Nausea swirled in my stomach, rising bile in my throat. Anger followed hot on its heels. “I will never become your pawn, Sitri.”
“We’ll see about that.”
It took all of my restraint to hold my tongue. Sitri reached for the doorknob.
“As of today, you are not to leave these grounds without an escort. Fail to heed my command, and I will bind you myself, regardless of your wishes. Trust me, darling—you won’t like what I make you into if that happens. Sleep well.”
With those final words, he swept out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
There I stood, alone in the shambles of my sanctuary, watching the exit, half afraid that Sitri or his underlings would return and drag me off to some dungeon somewhere. Part of me felt that was where I should be. Locked away. Unable to hurt myself or others. Instead, I found myself left with the wreckage of my decisions, facing disappointment and anger, but not persecution.
It was a different kind of justice, a novel punishment; being expected to hold my head high and carry on after what had happened. I glanced down at my hands, caked in dried blood that wasn’t even my own. A painful sob rose in my chest, fueled by confusion, rage, and pain. This time, I let it swell instead of stuffing it down.
Once the tears started falling, they didn’t stop. Sitri was a monster, a demon. So why had he come for me? Taking me hostage wasn’t a necessity—it was an excuse, a thinly veiled lie, an attempt to disguise his intentions. Was that lie a means to his end, some sort of compassion, or a cruel manipulation meant to trap me? Did it even matter anymore?
Something inside me twisted. Broke in a way that couldn’t be repaired.
I needed to bathe, to reassemble the pieces of my bedroom, but my hands would not stop shaking, and my legs wouldn’t move. With nowhere else to go, I crumpled to the ground, tucked my knees up to my chest, and wept.
