“I didn’t mean to intrude.” I took a step toward the doors. “If all is well here, I can—”
“You don’t have to go unless you want to, darling. There is plenty to share.”
“And what exactly is this? A wartime party?”
Sitri’s smile widened to a smirk, revealing wine-stained fangs. “Just a little gift from a longtime friend of mine, whose support I remain lucky enough to enjoy. She decided to treat us to a taste of luxury.”
I swallowed, weighing my options. Sitri seemed calm. At ease, if predatory. Alcohol would help me sleep, and if I were being honest with myself, Ireallywanted the drink. I hadn’t been sober this long in years. My grim new reality pushed me to my limits, and alcohol was a tonic that promised to soothe my pain.
I glanced at the bottles on the table, over to Sitri, then back to the wine. My desires tipped the scales, and I took a seat in the velvet chair athis side.
“Just for a little while,” I said, unsure how much I meant it.
Sitri swung his feet to the floor, swept up the remaining chalice, and filled it with the crimson fluid. Then, he offered it to me. “There you are, darling. Seconds are available if you want them.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, leaning forward to claim it.
As my fingers curled around the chalice’s stem, I felt a vibration in the metal. I looked at the surface of the wine, and the ripples forming there betrayed the Prince’s secret. Sitri held the cup with a slight tremor.
I stole a second glance over my shoulder, where the doorway still stood empty, but knowing Mara might overhear killed any questions forming on my tongue. I didn’t trust her, and if I was right about Sitri’s condition, I didn’t want to call attention to it.
Sitri released the chalice, and as I drew it to my lips, the wine sloshed about. It was much thicker than I’d expected. It smelled more savory than sweet, but underneath that unusual aroma, the familiar scent of booze lurked—not vodka or even whiskey, but it would do. I took my first sip. Its unctuous texture surprised me, as did its complex, slight, coppery aftertaste. Still, the burn it brought was a balm for my soul.
I sighed, tilted my head upwards, and drank.
Sitri lifted an eyebrow as I returned my empty cup to the table. “That’s an impressive showing.”
As the heat of the alcohol settled in my stomach, my cheeks grew warm as well. “I suppose you could say that.”
“There’s no shame in it.” The Prince poured another helping of wine into my chalice.“I will not judge. Hell is a place of sin. No amount of poison can do you in here; you may drink until you’ve had your fill.”
My breath hitched. He always seemed to know more than I’d let on. It was impossible to know if he’d made a lucky guess or if my fate was written in my soul. I willed my face to stay straight. His gaze danced over me, a warning that he’d caught the shift in my expression.
“And what exactlywouldit take?”I asked, hoping to change the subject. A slight tilt of Sitri’s head suggested he hadn’t planned to let it go. Whether for my sake or his, he did so anyway.
“Violence, really.”
He took a tall drink of his wine, and I followed suit. Even after he had finished, I continued taking anxious sips.
“Other things bring suffering, not annihilation. Poison, suffocation, hunger, and thirst have no bearing on a demon’s immortality. Why do you ask, darling? Planning to put that knowledge into practice?”
“Not at all, just wondering,” I said.
“The longer you spend here, the more sense our strange world will make. Your chalice, if you please?”
I looked down to find my cup empty once more. I needed to get my drinking under wraps. Part of me longed to deny him and hold on to the remnants of my self-control. I didn’t need another glass; the pleasant, burning tingle in my mind warned me the alcohol was already doing its work. I wanted more, though, and there was more to be had. Alone and enabled, it was all too easy to give in.
“Here.”I passed it back to Sitri.
He topped it up without a moment’s hesitation.“I don’t blame you for what happened at the gorge, you know. After all you have been through, I’m glad you find me worthy of sharing drinks with. I was beginning to worry you would detest me for centuries. Companionship is rare in Hell—it would be a shame to lose yours.”
His words caught me off guard. They seemed so… earnest. Some part of me always believed he saw me as a game, a puzzle to be solved and discarded. I blinked, unsure if the Prince meant what he’d said, or if the wine was already wearing away my reality.
“My options for companionship are limited these days. Besides, I think your servants hate me, especially…her.”
Sitri followed my gaze back towards the door. “Mara? She isn’t a servant. Neither is Apollo, for that matter. They are legates. Officers who command my legions and trusted confidants.”
“You dress your confidants like maids?”
