“Imps?” I asked. “Amalgamate beasts? Infernals? Not demons like us, then.”
Sitri turned to me. “Some like us, darling, but we are exceptional among demons. Our form is reserved for officers, mages, leaders, and occasionally, consorts. Imps are a sort of flying beast. I saw you battle them at the gorge, and the two red demons who cornered you there were infernals. As for the beasts…”
“Ritual dictates what form a bound demon takes, and those changes are irreversible. However, they aren’t exclusive,” Bronwen interjected. “Those monstrosities occur when humans are bound into conflicting demonic forms through multiple rituals. It warps their souls and their minds. They’re not a pretty sight.”
“That’s…”
Horrific. Abhorrent. Evil in a way I couldn’t fathom.Bile rose in my throat, and I fought to keep it down. I’d known he was a monster, but this? Even from Vapula, I hadn’t expected this.
Sitri had taken such great care when he bound me. He’d waited for permission, done everything possible to soothe me, told me I could back out if it became too much. He hesitated at my pain. Even so, it was difficult to surrender to him, intimate in a way that surprised me.What would it look like for Vapula to force that ritual on someone, not just once, but over and over, twisting their bodies into horrific shapes, turning them into monsters? I shuddered at the thought.
“It’s efficient, is what it is. Those beasts will prove difficult to manage,” Bronwen said. “I’ve requested aid from Haagenti, ten of her legions to bolster your remaining eighteen, two armed with tech that matches Vapula’s. You have no time to train.”
I recoiled at Bronwen’s coldness, but Sitri did not. “And where do we fit into this equation?” he asked.
“You don’t. I’ve arranged for you lovebirds to stay out of the fight. You will shelter here, in this storehouse, outside the path of destruction and close to the western gates. Let me and mine deal with the chaos in the streets. If things go poorly, the three of us vanish into the rot forests and leave Lantyca to fall.”
“You’ve lost it if you think I’m going to abandon my legions and Apollo,” the Prince growled. “My magic is stronger; my presence is required to lead. We know Vapula’s strategy. We do not play into his hand, but I must be there, Bronwen.” He wore his stubbornness on his stone-set face, and his defiant eyes told me he wasn’t about to back down.
I shook my head. “If Vapula gets to you, it’s over, Sitri. You can’t afford to get careless. Your kingdom needs you, I need you. You won’t do any good on the battlefield if he tears you apart.”
“Listen to your concubine, little Prince. She has a point.” Bronwen waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m here to transform this sure defeat into a faint hope of victory. I’ve run the numbers. With both of you there, I’dsay you have one-to-three odds either of you make it out, one-to-twelve you seize the day. Still better than the one-to-fifteen I give you alone, Sitri.”
“Am I to cower while Apollo leads, then?” Sitri shot back, bared teeth gleaming in the light of the lanterns.
Bronwen leaned forward, mirroring his grimace. “If you want to survive, you are,” she snarled. “You cannot slaughter his army. They plan to seize Lantyca, not destroy it. Aim for key casualties, disable those he wishes to install, and he just might pull his forces. Otherwise, spare us all the trouble and surrender at the border so Zephyr can dispatch you cleanly.”
Sitri bit his lip. I took a deep breath and forced myself to hold it to the count of three. Any lingering jealousy, any fear that Bronwen would replace me, evaporated into thin air. The demoness was truly unlikable, whether she was right or wrong.
“Fine,” the Prince growled at last. “Suppose we shelter before the attack. What of Mara in the meantime? She has information that will damn us all.”
“No one knows where she is. You’d be hunting for water in Hell, searching for her now.” Bronwen gave an exaggerated shrug.
“Someone will need to try.” Sitri glanced at Bronwen, who busied herself admiring her nails. She didn’t even bother to glance up. He sighed. “I suppose that ‘someone’ will be me.”
“Oh, good. I was worried you might try to put me in charge of that impossible task.” Bronwen grinned, and I found myself hating her just a little more.
“If you’re going, I’m going with you,” I said with a sharp glare at the demoness. “Mara thought I was dangerous. She wanted some kind of information from me. Maybe she’ll try again to get it.”
Even though I’d never admit it, part of me savored the possibility of revenge. I could still practically feel Mara’s fingers around my throat. It was time to return the favor. A knowing glance from Sitri suggested myfacade was paper thin.
“I’m not leading you to your demise, Lillia. Mara is a powerful foe. I will struggle to best her alone. Without training, she will destroy you.”
“Train me, then.”
I locked eyes with the Prince, and he held my glare. A flurry of emotions paraded across his face.
“It’ll be good for her to learn, Sitri,” Bronwen chimed in. “Diplomacy has no use now; your schedule has been cleared. Teach her while Apollo prepares for war. Show her how a lust demon fights.”
“And that means what, exactly?” I asked.
The look Sitri gave told me as much as the resistance in the air, a manifestation of his overwhelming wish to protect.
“You would be bait, present to distract her while we battle. I can’t deny it as a learning opportunity, darling, but it will be one with your soul on the line.”
I swallowed, suddenly understanding his hesitation. “I still want to go. You shouldn’t face her alone, and if I’m able to help, I’ll do whatever I can.”
Sitri glanced at Bronwen, who gave an encouraging nod. At last, the Prince relented.
