Chapter Eighteen
Even in the dining hall, with Apollo cooking in the next room over, the manor was a dangerous place. It had been less than a day since Mara’s attack. In her wake, my afterlife once again turned upside down, and things were taking a turn for the worse.
I hadn’t slept last night. Though rest wasn’t necessary in Hell, insomnia still siphoned strength from my muscles and set weakness in my bones. My mind was just as tired as my body. Stringing words into sentences took great effort, as if I had to reach into the abyss and fish out every syllable.
And then there was the gash on my chest. I’d stopped the bleeding, but the wound still gaped, presenting an opportunity for infection—for annihilation—to creep in. Beneath my shirt, it was invisible, but its dull, ceaseless ache persisted.
Anxieties circled deep in the recesses of my mind. Fears for Sitri and his safety, the desire to escape these demons who would butcher me if he hadn’t ordered my protection.
He’d told me I would know if something happened to him. I onlyhoped that was the case, and it hadn’t been another of the Prince’s lies.
“Food’s ready. Come and get it!”
Apollo appeared in the kitchen doorway, and I jumped. I couldn’t help it. The sad smile he donned wracked me with guilt. He insisted on escorting me around and serving me meals. He even tried to offer me his company. I didn’t want it. Apollo wasn’t a threat, at least not yet, though I still had a hard time trusting him.
He might be sympathetic, but his loyalties lay with Sitri, not with me.
“Thank you,” I muttered, the words hollow on my lips.
I rose on shaky feet and followed Apollo into the kitchen, where he’d taken our food off the wood-burning stove—a pot of oily stew, made with mushrooms and a generous portion of meat. The vapor that emanated from it filled the room with a rich, sweet aroma. Still on autopilot, I served myself and returned to my seat.
Once he’d collected his own food, Apollo claimed the chair beside me. His bowl practically overflowed while I’d only filled mine halfway. Eating so close to the demon was strange. When Sitri was here, he’d enforced strict seating, observed by his legates, even when he skipped meals. Seating that kept me well away from Mara and Apollo at the dining table.
I had a new understanding of Sitri’s eternal plight, having seen how quickly chaos bloomed in his absence. He was a Prince with nothing and nobody to trust. Any of the demons he brought to power would slit his throat and steal his kingdom—save for Apollo, perhaps—and in the middle of the violence was a helpless, fragile human with an unknown expiration date. A human Sitri had sacrificed and gambled to protect; one he’d kept secrets from, lied to, and betrayed.
“Not hungry tonight?” Apollo asked.
When I looked up, I noticed his crimson eyes trained on my spoon. I stirred my stew absentmindedly. Not a single bite had made it past my lips.
“Not really,” I admitted.
Apollo sighed, resting his own spoon against the rim of his half-emptied bowl. “You’ve got to nurture your soul. The less strength you have, the more danger you’re in.”
“I know.”
The demon continued to talk at me, but I didn’t bother listening. My mind strayed elsewhere, to sounds coming from behind the hallway door, so faint that at first, I worried I’d imagined them. As the footsteps and voices drew closer, my stomach twisted.
They were real.
The door to the dining room opened, and Bronwen swept inside, still dressed in black leather armor. She nodded to Apollo, ignoring me completely. Hot on her heels was the demon I’d feared for. The demon I wanted most to see, but didn’t know how to confront.
Sitri.
He entered with a scowl, but as soon as he caught sight of me, it faded to a faint smile. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. As if to spite me, the Prince settled in at my right side. Bronwen seated herself next to him. The proximity between them seized my chest with a tightness I couldn’t rationalize.
“Something wrong, darling?” Sitri posed the question in a low voice, stirring emotions I wanted to suppress. It took all my willpower to shut them out.
“I’m fine, honestly. Just… a little tired.”
Sitri furrowed his brow, and his restless fingers rapped against the table. I forced myself to take a sip of stew. Despite Apollo’s best efforts, the sweet, oily broth nearly made me gag. I saw no point in finishing it. I had a sinking suspicion that even if I ate, it wouldn’t do me much good in the coming days.
The demons on either side of me leaned forward, exchanging a series of glances as I abandoned my spoon. Apollo mouthed the word ‘Mara,’which seemed to be enough of an answer for the Prince. I wasn’t about to let him interrogate me. I left my bowl where it lay and stood.
“Thank you for the meal, Apollo.”
I turned to leave, my gaze lingering a moment too long on Sitri’s face. What I saw there nearly broke me; clenched teeth, eyes wild with frustration, and that familiar, hurt-like expression. As I passed him, he sprang from his chair and knocked it to the ground. He moved to follow.
“Hey, Lillia! Just where do you think you’re going?”
