“Four?” I push myself up to a sitting position. My attention is drawn to the bouquet on the table in front of us. Another petal has fallen from the stem, floating to the table surface like an ominous warning.
We’re running out of time.
And Oziel is losing his confidence.
I draw the covers away from me, getting out of bed. Oziel eyes me with curiosity. “Where are you going?”
“To get dressed. The ball is only a few days away, yes?” I search through my chest for something that doesn’t cut off my oxygen. I find a simple black dress with no corset in sight and murmur a silent thank you to whatever demon supplied me with the garment.
“It is.” Oziel gains back some of the ferocity in his voice that I’ve come to associate with him.
“Then we aren’t without a plan,” I remind him gently, tugging off my nightgown.
Oziel’s eyes darken, drinking me in. Even without the lust wine from yesterday, I preen at his attention. But there’s no time to act upon it. “We just need to figure out how to lure the demon poisoning River Hel out of hiding at the ball.”
Oziel puts a hand up, silencing me. I’m almost offended until I hear a knock on the door. “Come in.” He gives me a look to keep quiet.
The door swings open, and Garvan steps inside. The usually composed demon looks anything but. His hair is a tangled mess, strands falling over his sharp features, and his shirt hangs open, unbuttoned and wrinkled, exposing the pale expanse of his chest. He’s lean, his body wiry and toned, but nowhere near as imposing as the man sitting on our bed.
Oziel, with his broad shoulders and raw, effortless strength, makes Garvan seem almost delicate in comparison. Yet there’s something about Garvan’s quiet intensity that demands attention despite his disheveled state.
“Any news?” Oziel continues a conversation I’m not privy to.
“The demons found early this morning were part of a morning watch, headed to patrol the eastern borders, toward Pixie Hollow,” Garvan recites, earning a curse from Oziel.
“There have been reports of Nephilim activity near Pixie Cove. Which is…unsettling,” Oziel murmurs.
“Why is that unsettling?” I’m unable to hold back my curiosity. I wish I knew more about the geography of Mescos. A whole kingdom of pixies? What other wonders exist here, hidden beyond my limited knowledge?
When I’m free, I’ll explore every corner of it, uncovering its secrets for myself. The thought should fill me with excitement, the way it once did. But it doesn’t. Not anymore. At least not alone. I push that uneasy feeling aside, refusing to acknowledge the weight it carries.
“Pixie Cove is the center of all magic in Mescos,” he explains.
My brow furrows. “But I thought you got your magic from River Hel?”
Like a patient mother, Oziel nods. “Correct, Kitten. But the magic from Pixie Cove is the essence of all magic in Mescos. Without it, we would cease to exist in our current state. The River Hel would be nothing but a river. If the Nephilim seize that power, life as we know it is over.”
“It will change everything if the Nephilim have access to that sort of power,” Garvan interjects. His solemn expression shows he’s worried about the news, just as worried as Oziel is.
“Then, using the ball to?—”
“See to it that their bodies are brought out with the rest. Dispatch more demons to our eastern border and send word to the pixie king, Taivan, about the Nephilim activity,” Oziel interrupts me, and I slightly seethe. This is twice he’s spoken over me. I understand he’s stressed, but I won’t be the recipient of that stress.
Garvan lingers by the door, slow to acquiesce to Oziel’s order. “Is it wise to send more men?” he asks after a pause. “We can’t afford to lose more demons, my lord.”
“I’m well aware of what we can and cannot afford to lose, Garvan.” Oziel’s voice is sharp as a blade. “Unlessyou have a better plan for scouting our borders, you’ll do as you’re told.”
His tone is unyielding, pure authority, the kind that would make a lesser demon drop to their knees in submission. The air crackles with the weight of his command. Garvan stiffens, his muscles coiled with tension, but he doesn’t lower his gaze. Instead, he holds firm, meeting Oziel’s eyes head-on before offering a single curt nod.
“Then it shall be done.” Garvan’s gaze lands on me as he offers me the same respectful nod he gave Oziel. “Enjoy your morning, my queen.” Effectively dismissed by his king, he turns on his heels and walks out of the room. The door closes behind him, leaving my husband and me alone.
I round on Oziel, just as the demon king stands up, placing his hands on my shoulder. It’s a gentle touch, but it may as well be searing for how hot it makes my body. “I didn’t mean to cut you off, Kitten,” he whispers. It amazes me that this fierce demon, surrounded by darkness, can be so gentle when he chooses to be. It’s very conflicting. “But as much as I want to trust my demons, I can’t rule out anyone. Someone is betraying the kingdom. Betraying me. Until we figure out who, then all talk of finding the traitor stays between us.”
The anger simmering inside me fades, replaced by a quiet understanding. He has to view everyone as a suspect until proven otherwise, which sounds like a relentless, exhausting way to exist. No wonder he looks like he hasn’t slept in days, with shadows etched deep beneath his eyes.
I exhale, letting go of the last traces of frustration. “Then what’s our plan?” My voice is softer now, laced with something closer to empathy.
“Normally, the celebration spans throughout the castle. This time, we will centralize it to one location. Much easier to keep an eye on everyone that way,” he says. “We will celebrate as if nothing is amiss, but I’ll make note of the demons who aren’t in attendance.”
