Chapter Seventeen
How many days had Sitri been gone? Using mealtime as a gauge, I’d guess about five. As far as I knew, there had been no word of his condition or return. I once again found myself on the fringes of the household, left in the dark, uncertain of what was to come.
In Sitri’s absence, routine and order fell away. Apollo filled the Prince’s shoes, taking up his work in the chancery and hosting an endless stream of demon guests. Whenever Mara wasn’t escorting them, she busied herself with trips to Lantyca. I’d found a new place in the mansion, too. Sitri’s legates worked day and night with little time for housework. Cooking, cleaning, and looking after the stabled demon horses were among my current tasks.
But even adopting those responsibilities didn’t make me privy to the inner workings of a kingdom at war.
At least I’d finally gotten the books I asked for. I glanced at the basket sitting on my desk, left by Apollo after Sitri’s departure. Most of the stories it contained were derivative works handwritten on scrolls, crude imitations of media from the human world. Comforting, even iflacking in substance. I found the original, demonic tales much more interesting, though there weren’t many, and my recently filled schedule afforded me little time with them.
Today was no exception. I held the remnants of my dinner, an empty bowl smeared with greasy sauce. Eating with the household felt daunting. I opted to eat alone, letting Sitri’s legates have the dining room to themselves. At some point, they’d finish the meal, and I’d be left to clean up the mess. I really didn’t want to. Both the household’s remaining demons would be about, and I had no interest in small talk. Still, someone had to do the work, and for now, it would be me.
I heaved myself to my feet, checked that the hallway was clear, and made my way to the kitchen. The dirty dishes sat stacked beside the sink, piled so high I could almost hear them mocking me.
That’s what I got for not washing up after lunch.
Just as I’d been taught, I dabbed rags into a jar of oil and scrubbed the dishes clean. It could have been my imagination, but the kitchen seemed darker than usual. Shadows grew long, making my task more difficult. Fewer lanterns had been hung. I wasn’t sure if Sitri’s legates were apathetic or overwhelmed by the sheer number of lights to upkeep in the mansion. Either way, the idea of Hell’s darkness closing in made me shudder, and as I worked, I couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes at my back.
Shoes clacked against the wooden floor behind me. I looked up, turning my head. Mara emerged from the doorway, empty glass bottles cradled in her arms. She still wore her signature maid-like garb, though I understood she was nothing of the sort. Unlike Apollo and Sitri, who donned armor even in the mansion, Mara dressed however she pleased.
It wasn’t a lack of lethality that drove her. If what Sitri said was true, she didn’t need a warrior’s equipment to win her battles.
A wave of unease washed over me when she entered. The glassware she’d brought clanged as she heaved it onto the table. Mara procured jugs and vials from the surrounding cabinets and set about mixingconcoctions into the vessels. I watched, unwilling to turn my back on the demoness. Just when I thought I might avoid a confrontation, she spoke.
“I’ll be blunt, human. I never cared for your presence.”
“I know,” I said, trying to suppress the fear prickling along my arms, racing down my neck.
I met her stare. Dim orange light blazed in her crimson eyes, igniting an animalistic savagery that made me flinch. They followed me as I moved, like those of a predator watching its prey. Hungry for the kill.
“The Prince is gone,” she said. “You wanted to leave before. What changed?”
Sitri leaped to the front of my mind—the danger he lived in every day, the hostile forces that surrounded him. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no one to trust. A terrible army bore down on his kingdom, courtesy our common enemy.
I couldn’t bring myself to admit that weakness to Mara. We’d never gotten along, and whatever I told her, I feared she would turn it against me.
“I’m not going to start any more trouble,” I answered. “I’m only human. The last time I went out there, I realized just how dangerous it is. I don’t stand a chance on my own. I won’t do anything like that again, and I’m sorry for the damage I caused.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. The corners of her lips turned down—a warning I hadn’t been convincing. Mara laid down the vials she held and made her way to an oil lantern, hung just above the door. I watched closely, my heart thundering as she snatched it from its hook.
“Mara, what are you—”
“You’re right,” she said. “You won’t cause trouble like that again. I’ll be sure of that.”
She snuffed it out. A third of the room plunged into darkness. Mybreath caught as I glanced at the two remaining lanterns. The nearest sat between us on the kitchen worktable, and Mara was already closing in. Its light cast a long, ominous shadow of her manicured form that loomed over the exit. It was a lost cause. I spun around and yanked the last lantern from the wall behind me, clutching it tight as Mara extinguished the second flame.
When I glanced back, the demoness had vanished. My pitiful human eyes weren’t equipped to see in Hell’s darkness. If the final lantern went out, I’d be done for.
A misplaced step from Mara caused the floor to creak behind me. I whipped around. By the time I caught on to what was happening, it was too late. I rushed for the door. Mara followed, hot on my heels. The demoness moved with inhuman speed, and she grabbed me by the waist.
She knocked the lantern out of my hands. It crashed to the ground. Mara’s shoe snuffed the flame out, just as Sitri had done before, and shadows swallowed us up.
I screamed, thrashing in Mara’s hold. Her nails dug into my arms. I lacked the strength to break her grasp. With supernatural strength, she tossed me into the air. My back slammed against the table, igniting pain along my spine, winding me, pushing jars and jugs to the floor, where they shattered in a cacophony of crashes. Mara’s hand closed around my throat, halting my breath.
“Let go…”
Those two words left my lips as a strangled cry. Her fingers curled tighter. Sharp, frigid steel sliced through my clothes and pressed against my chest, a moment from piercing my skin. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs hungered for air. Unconsciousness would have been a mercy, would have numbed me to the pain, but it never came. My throat throbbed. A jolt of white-hot agony cut into me, splitting me open. Mara took her time advancing her blade. Not aiming to annihilate, but to terrify.
“No, I don’t think I will let you go.” Her breath stirred against my face. “We’re going to have a little chat, you and I. Tell me what I want tohear, and I might allow you to escape as a beast. Keep the answers from me…”
