Chapter Thirteen
Darkness closed in, so thick it threatened to suffocate me. This darkness was familiar, as were the rough stone beneath my feet and the glowing snow-white palace on the horizon. He’d trained me here—a spot of desolate void overlooking an otherworldly city at the foot of his ghostly home.
His hand met my waist from behind, pulling me flush with his chest. Sickly sweet perfume washed over me. Though I couldn’t see him, I knew exactly who he was.
Vapula.
I mouthed his name, my voice refusing my summons, muscles locking in his hold. His breath caressed my ear, raising goosebumps on my arms as he gave a deep, sinister laugh. I couldn’t move—I tried, but my body froze as his will overrode my own.
“Oh, sweet Lillia,” he murmured, his tone a parody of a lover’s. “Have you forgotten your vows? Have you forgotten that you’re owned? That you’remine?”
My skin crawled beneath his fingers. They moved over my stomach,pulling me to him, smothering me. I couldn’t run, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t—
I jolted awake with a gasp, my heart pounding, body trembling, and skin slick with sweat. My eyes darted about, scanning my surroundings. The dim light of a lantern. Black velvet curtains. Ornate wooden furniture and a fur rug sprawled across the floor. Sitri’s mansion. A glance at the door confirmed it was still locked, and only shadows lurked in the corners of my room. I was safe.
“Just a dream,” I whispered, hoping it was true, that he couldn’t walk my dreams here the way he had in life. I rubbed my trembling hands together and steadied my ragged breathing. Willed myself to calm. The nightmares had worsened over the past few days, depriving me of rest and keeping me on edge.
The Prince had isolated me. Whatever interest his household demons had shown in me before had vanished. Even Sitri spent more time locked behind closed doors, entertaining the endless flow of meetings and couriers he hosted in his chancery.
In the chaos, I’d been forgotten. I wasn’t sure if Sitri intentionally inflicted this torment, or if my own mind was to blame.
A week working alongside him had done me some good, though I’d never admit it to his face. He’d given me a way to quiet my dread and escape the house arrest he’d placed me under, conditional on his supervision. I had come to rely on those brief ventures. Now they slipped away, and the silence left behind spawned anxieties I couldn’t quite crush.
I shuffled out of bed, shaking off the emotions still clinging to me, and toweled the moisture off my skin. There was no more sleep here for me, not tonight, when I was so alone and carried so much fear. Food and drink would help. The idea of eating turned my stomach, but it would settle my overactive nerves; it always had in life. I didn’t listen to my body’s protest. Once I was certain all was quiet in the hall, I slipped out of my bedroom and locked the door behind me.
As I made my way towards the dining room, sound from deeper within the mansion drew my attention. Raised, cheerful voices, both masculine and feminine. I hesitated, unsure if I should insert myself into unknown demon festivities.
Then came a laugh, deep and raspy.
Sitri’slaugh.
It resonated through my chest, bringing warmth and an unexpected sense of safety. As soon as it emerged, my face wrinkled, and I tried to stamp that sense of safety out. It was what he wanted me to feel—more dangerous than any blade he wielded, any secret he kept.
Even knowing that, I followed the laughter down the hall. This was a chance to learn about my captors. Nothing more.
It led me to the entryway, where the doors to the great room hung ajar. The voices inside had quieted some. I settled against the door, hoping to listen in, only to hear Mara mutter her thanks. Her footsteps approached. My heart sank. Hinges creaked, and I found myself face-to-face with the demoness.
Despite her short stature, Mara somehow looked down on me as she stepped into the hallway. The smile on her face faded. She carried a pair of silver chalices filled to the brim with dark red liquid that swirled about as she halted.
“It seems someone is up past bedtime.” She held my stare, unflinching.
I swallowed. “Just up for a midnight walk,” I said, holding my breath in anticipation of her response.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied me.
“Is that Lillia you’ve caught out there?” Sitri’s voice sounded from the great room, and Mara stiffened.
I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe there was some safety in his presence after all.
“Come on in, darling,” he called. “You’re just in time for a raretreat.”
Before Mara objected, I gave her a forced smile and shuffled past her towards the open double doors. Her eyes followed my every move. When I entered, Sitri was the first thing I noticed. Even in his relaxed posture, he dominated the space. The Prince reclined on a red leather loveseat. He’d kicked his boots up on one armrest and arched his back against the other. His left arm lay crossed behind his head. In his free hand, he held a chalice much like Mara’s, and on the end table beside him was something I’d never dreamed of seeing in Hell.
Wine. Three big glass bottles of the stuff, and one last empty chalice to contain it.
My heart began to race. Was this a trap, or just a fortunate coincidence? I glanced back at the doorway, where Mara no longer lurked. Sitri had me alone, vice in hand, my willpower already strained. This was dangerous territory.
Our eyes met, and he smiled.
