“That’s where our good friend Zaleos comes in. He courted her and brought her on outings, with her harem close to serve. There was a picnic of sorts. She drank herself delirious on wine, and when her glass ran dry, she ripped the heart out of her attendant’s chest. Squeezed his blood into her goblet. The Duke looked at me, a smile on his lips, and called it a mockery of love.
“Three days later, he pressed a dagger into my hand and said the way was clear. That there were better things for me. Not one of her ‘consorts’ interfered as I tore her apart, but that was only the beginning.
“Do you remember when I told you that magic enforces rule, darling? Nobody told me that. Her title needed a soul to bind, a brow on which to place a crown, a conduit for her power.”
“And it chose you to be that conduit,” I whispered.
Sitri nodded. “I inherited her name, her title, and her powers. With that newfound strength, I made a grave mistake. Most new monarchs put down their predecessor’s court. I gave them mercy; I set them free. Most met the ends they deserved, or faded into obscurity… but one found quarter in chaos.”
Bronwen.
My hands tightened into fists, gripping my pants tight. A flame came alight in my chest, a burning, all-consuming rage—a thirst for revenge of my own, and a wish that I hadn’t stopped Sitri when he’d nearly ripped out Bronwen’s throat.
“If I had wanted to end her, I would have, despite your protests. Bronwen’s demise would have only created more conflict,” he muttered, bringing me back to reality. “Haagenti keeps her leash tight, and above all else, Bronwen values hierarchy. Dangerous though she is, she poses no risk to us.”
Shaking my head, I tried to stuff my anger down—for now. “Right. And the mirrors?”
“I couldn’t stand to see the Princess’ cruel silver eyes staring back at me in every room, every hall. So, I broke the mirrors. Set her ‘toys’ free. Searched for a way to atone.”
“You don’t need to atone. You aren’t the Princess, and you didn’t commit her crimes. I don’t care what Bronwen thinks. You’re not a monster, Sitri.”
“Aren’t I a monster, though?”
Sitri straightened his back, lifted his head, and pulled his hand from mine. He transformed before my eyes, donning his mask, his mental armor. Gone was the broken man I’d glimpsed, and in his place sat the Prince of Lust and Lies. Desire incarnate; beautiful and deadly. Cruel. Seductive. Powerful.
“There is still so much you don’t understand about Hell,” he growled, “about what it takes to survive here. Do you know what atrocities I’ve committed? How many humans I have chained and bound into beasts? The blood that stains my hands? One cannot rule here without becoming a monster. You have yet to see what I am truly capable of.”
I matched his stance, met his stare. “You kept me safe, gave me a place to stay, even after what happened at the gorge. You would have letme fade rather than bind me against my will. It doesn’t matter what you’re capable of.”
“Lillia, please. You cannot truly be so blind.”
Sitri’s lip curled back, the first warning of a snarl. “Do you remember the lies I told? I saw how you reacted to my touch, and I used it to my advantage. The tale I spun about healing my rot-infested wounds? Half-truth at best. Apollo had been feeding me under the table for days; he would have kept guard if I’d asked, but I didn’t want his help. I wantedyou,wanted to be close to you, and knew you couldn’t afford to turn me down.
“And your mind, darling. I nearly broke you. I created conflict, hoped to subjugate you, hoped you would yield, if only to make the pain stop. Had it gone on any longer, that suffering would have lasted for eternity. You weren’t the first. I doubt you would have been the last.
“In two short weeks, you have forgotten what I did to you—forgotten what it was like to fear me.”
His statement burned with raw, aching truth, but it didn’t surprise me. Those confessions changed nothing, not when I’d suspected his lies from the start. I’d made my peace with them. The rise and fall of Sitri’s chest grew ragged, and his expression twisted. I reached out, cupping his cheeks in my hands. He stiffened at my touch, froze, but didn’t pull away—even as I brought my face to his.
I closed my eyes and pressed our foreheads together. “I haven’t forgotten, Sitri.”
How could I? I’d never forget how he wrapped his fingers around my throat, forced me into contact I didn’t want. He’d caged me, cornered me, controlled me… vowed to make a demon out of me. I worried he’d do it at any cost. Even when my refusal held him at bay, the fear was always there. He’d kept me guessing what was real, what he wanted from me. Under those conditions, I’d let him break me down until I couldn’t tell where his lies ended and the truth began.
And when I broke, when I came undone at the seams, he sewed meback together again—remade me stronger, freer, whole in a way I’d never been before.
“I remember what it was like,” I whispered. “I was afraid of you then, but I’m not afraid anymore.”
“Maybe… maybe that’s the problem.” Sitri took a shuddering breath, and as he let it out, its warmth bathed my cheeks.
“Maybe youshouldbe afraid of me.”
“Even if I should be, I’m not. You said I reminded you of your human self, yourtrueself. I think I finally understand why. You’ve walked in my shoes. You’ve been at the mercy of wicked demons and survived.”
“That ‘true self’ doesn’t exist anymore, Lillia. I can hardly remember him. All that remains are empty moments, vague names, strange faces… and even those will vanish in the coming centuries, if I am fortunate enough to survive them.”
“Tell me what you can remember, then. I’ve given you my memories; they live on in you. Share yours with me. Together, we can keep the stories of our lives and stand the test of time.”
Silence followed, so absolute that I didn’t dare to breathe. Sitri trembled against me. He shook under the weight of his secrets, uncertain whether to reveal them. I ran my thumb along his cheek, down his jaw, savoring his rough stubble on my skin. Only when I reached his lips did his bitter scent fade.
