“Bring me some paper and a pen. I’ll write the blueprints, but if it’s weapons you want, you’ll have to source the parts.”
I dabbed at the pits with a rag. When I pulled it back, the cloth was covered in filth, and I suppressed the urge to gag. Shoving it aside, I reached for a new one.
“Honestly, Sitri, you can’t use this. At best, it will jam, and at worst, it will misfire. You’re lucky it hasn’t rotted away into nothing.”
“You’re in no position to order me around,” the Prince snapped back.
Though he muttered under his breath, he produced a canvas and something that resembled a pencil. The tools weren’t ideal, but I would make them work.
The task was simple, if tedious. I traced out every part, wrote instructions for assembly, while Sitri grew restless. He tapped his fingers on the table, his feet against the floor. At one point, he left his place beside me to pace the empty workshop. Pride and vindication swelled within me. This powerful demon needed me. I was giving the Prince a taste of his own medicine, and there was no sweeter syrup I could have imagined.
By the time I’d finished with the work, my fingers glistened with oil and soot. The substance worked its way under my fingernails and into the creases of my skin. My attempts to wipe it off failed miserably, and without soap or water, the grime was there to stay.
I secured the last of the screws that held the revolver’s frame together, and the mechanisms now moved smoother than they had in decades. The cylinder turned freely. The trigger pulled with a satisfying click.
“Here, have a look at this,” I said, offering Sitri the grip.
The demon Prince snatched it away and scrutinized it, as if trying to find fault in my handiwork. For a moment, I worried he would. The suspicion on his face faded to confusion, and then to a glimmer of admiration. As soon as it appeared, it vanished, Sitri’s expression returning to its stoic baseline.
“This will do. And your notes?”
I offered them up, handling them with care so as not to smudge the writing. Sitri studied them before turning back to me.
“Can you teach me what you know?” he asked.
I swallowed. Sitri raised an eyebrow. My stomach lurched.
“I can’t,” I admitted. “When I have to do the work, it just… comes to me. I can try to answer questions for you or tell you if you’re doing something wrong, but it’s impossible to put it into words. I’m sorry.”
Sitri rolled up the canvas and secured it with a string, then slid it into a basket on the far side of the room.
“You do possess his magic, then.”
“His magic?” I asked.
The Prince looked me over with cold, cruel eyes that spoke of his mistrust. He sighed and shook his head. “It’s an effect of the magic that binds you. It grants you skills, not knowledge. All demons have it to an extent, though I have never known a human to possess it.”
My mind leaped to the image of Sitri’s bare chest the night before, the sigil he’d shown me. I’d said my vows to Vapula, hoping to secure my future. This was the gift he bestowed on me. The Duke was a patron of scholars, a master of science and engineering, who had passed those skills on when he claimed me.
Sitri must not have been granted such a useful power. He was the demon Prince of Lust and Lies, after all. What kind of supernatural abilities would his magic lend him? I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t plan to ask.
“Tell me, Lillia.” Sitri’s voice snapped me from my thoughts, and Iturned to face him. “What could possibly have been so important as to sell that bastard your soul?”
I froze. It was my turn to weigh the risks of trusting him. This demon was my warden. He wanted to strip me of my humanity, to make himself my master. If keeping him at arm’s length would help me avoid that fate, that’s what I would do.
Still, he’d made great sacrifices to keep me safe, fought for me on the battlefield.
For better or worse, I trusted him, even though I didn’t like him.
“Vapula promised me freedom,” I said.
“And what, pray tell, did you desire freedom from?”
“My responsibilities. I was brought up to live a certain way. My parents were good people, but they kept my life on rails. From the day I was born, they’d already decided who I was going to be, what I was going to do. I got sick of it.”
A warm, nearly painful blush rose on my cheeks. When I said it like that, I almost couldn’t believe I’d sold my soul for such a silly reason. It hadn’t felt silly back then, though.
“They sent me away when I was just a girl. I worked hard, earned my stay at a prestigious school, and that was the thanks I got. I had no one, nothing left for me. That’s when he appeared.”
