Chapter Twenty
“And these maps, they change? They find things for you?” Sitri asked.
I hummed a confirmation. “The phone talks to the satellites, the big machines in the sky. Ask it to take you where you want to go, anywhere on Earth, and it tells you how to get there.”
“Such a thing would be called witchcraft in my time. I have heard tales of electricity, but computers and smartphones… those are something new. Apollo is the youngest among my inner circle, and even he hasn’t spoken of such things.”
I opened my eyes, looking up at the white lace canopy overhead, trying to ignore the numbness creeping along my arm. This conversation was a thinly veiled distraction; an attempt to focus my mind on anything other than my impending transformation, and it was failing. Miserably.
At least Sitri had been right—the chambers were more welcoming in the light. Together, we had cleaned up the dust and lit the place with candles. So many of them burned, they warmed the room and filled the air with perfume-scented smoke. We’d both bathed, at least to the extent that such a thing was possible in Hell, and I’d changed into the silkenrobe he’d offered me.
As for the Prince, he wore form-fitting leather pants, but no armor or shirt, leaving his battle-hardened body on display. Along with it, he bared the ruby sigil he would impart on me.
His exhibition made me all too aware of Vapula’s verdant mark, still burned into my arm. The pain it caused lasted only a few hours, but knowing what it meant brought discomfort all its own. Soon I’d be rid of it for good. Vapula would lose his claim over me, and Sitri would stake his. A shiver ran through me at the thought. I couldn’t tell whether dread or anticipation fueled it.
“It’s almost time, Lillia. Are you ready?”Sitri’s soft, raspy voice broke a silence I hadn’t noticed setting in.
I sat up, my robe shifting around my shoulders, a hint of embarrassment gnawing at me when it slipped below the crease of my breast. Sitri wasn’t looking at my breasts, though. His eyes settled between them, narrowing as he studied the knife wound Mara had dealt me.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. Will it… will it hurt?”
The Prince’s gaze drifted upward, his face softening. “It will. You must bear the proper glyphs for me to preserve your form, and no paint will do the trick. The markings need to run deeper than your skin.”
My chest tightened. “You’re going to cut me, then?”
Setting down the incense-like sticks he’d been sorting through, Sitri sauntered to my side and took a seat on the edge of the bed. He held his arm out. It was an offer of comfort I readily accepted, shuffling up to him and pressing into the curve of his body. He wrapped himself around me. I allowed my eyelids to drift shut.
“No cuts,” he said. “Those are scars you would feel for an eternity. Just some light burns, and they will heal overnight. This will be over quickly, so long as you keep still. Can you manage that for me, darling?”
“I think so,” I said.
I opened my eyes. They met Sitri’s. I’d told another lie, one he recognized, judging by his somber expression.
“When I dreamed of this day, I hadn’t expected it to be so bittersweet.” The Prince brushed a stray strand of hair from my face and planted a kiss on my forehead.
“I didn’t expect it to come at all,” I admitted.
Part of me still didn’t want it to. That part now had to compete with Sitri, his gentle seduction, and electric touch. That was a losing battle. His warmth against me, his protection and tender intimacy—thiswas what I fought for, why I was trusting him.
Connection, freedom.
Unity.
Sitri released me. Once I’d sat upright, he stood and started across the candlelit room. “Why don’t you go ahead and disrobe? Lay face down. Your back will be my canvas.”
Bowing my head, I did as he asked. I untied the sash securing my robe, swallowing my nausea as pitch-black bones worked the fabric. I shrugged it off. Even with so many candles burning, goosebumps gathered on my skin. The room’s lukewarm air made me all too aware of my warming cheeks. I eased myself down onto the velvet bedspread. Its coarse, dense fibers teased my hips, caressed my breasts, elicited a shiver.
“And once it’s done?” I asked.
Glass clanked behind me as Sitri collected his supplies. “We must give you time to heal your wounds and settle your soul. The change won’t be dramatic, but you will still feel it, darling.”
“Right.”
I swallowed. This was it; I was really going to do this.
My heart beat hard and fast, spurred by the memory of Vapula’s bindings burning themselves into me, the fear and pain they brought. One glance at my ghostly hand constrained those anxieties. Most of myfingers had already faded. There were worse things in Hell than fire, and if I wanted to back out, I’d be offering myself up to them.
The Prince took his place on the bed behind me. He shuffled over my legs, pinning me with his weight. I shifted beneath him, testing the limits of his restraint. He held me so tight I could barely move an inch. The pop of a cork told me Sitri had opened something, and from it came a sweet, floral perfume.
