“All our boys went after them, and Aim and Ashtaroth brought Andras and Amy to Lucifer,” Jess answers as she hands the cushion back to me. “There, Aim exchanged Andras for Amy’s life. They did a soul bargain?—”
“Aim and Amy, not Andras,” Lana murmurs like I needed the distinction.
“And they lived happily ever after!” Jess almost yells over Lana’s words.
I sit, stunned, pondering everything the girls have shared. So much suffering, but also a lot of love and happiness. And sex. But it’s all so complex… All these people and battles…
“I’m not sure if I understood all of that,” I admit sheepishly, looking between them. “Can you start over?”
33
ASMODEUS
Simone is curled up against my side, her cheek warm against my chest, her hair spilling across my arm in a dark tangle. I trace lazy circles on her shoulder, watching the light from the sconces play over her skin.
“You're quiet,” I murmur near her ear.
“Thinking.”
“About what the girls said?”
She shifts, propping her chin on the heel of her palm so she can look at me. The sheet slips down, revealing the swell of her belly, and my hand drifts there like it has a mind of its own.
“Tell me about Andras,” she demands quietly.
I hum under my breath. What can I say about the betrayer that’s her ancestor?
“He served as one of my lieutenants for centuries,” I begin. “He was good at what he did. Disciplined. Clever. He did as he was told for the better part of a millennium without needing me to intervene.”
She frowns. “And then?”
I tilt my head against the pillow, looking at the ceiling. “Ashtaroth told me that Andras had been plotting with Belial for who knows how long. Centuries, probably. The Elioud being brought to Purgatory, the rifts, Armaros's death, now Ethan’s death...”
Simone is quiet for a moment, her fingertip drawing a slow path down my sternum. “I have no desire to ever meet him,” she whispers finally.
“He's in the Pits, little fairy. After what he did, he'll be down there for a small eternity at least. You'll never have to look him in the eye.”
She purses her lips. “And if I did?”
“Then he wouldn't have eyes for long,” I deadpan.
A surprised laugh escapes her. She presses her face into my shoulder, and I feel her smile against my skin.
She seems lighter tonight, even with all the grim news her friends brought today. But Simone is humming faintly to herself, her fingers tracing absent patterns over my ribs.
“You're happy,” I observe.
“Hm.” She considers it. “I think I am. It was so good to see them. To laugh with someone who knew me before all this. I didn't realize how much I missed it until they were sitting in our salon stuffing their faces with Forneus’ canapés.”
I love the way she saysour. But her words make me consider things. Uncomfortable things.
For years, she was alone, with no one but me. First in that cave, like some pet hidden away from prying eyes. Then in this gilded cage I built for her, however lovely the bars. No friends or family. No one to laugh with. Just me, every day, for years.
If anyone ever did that to my child… If anyone took the babe growing inside her, locked them somewhere away from light and laughter, kept them caged and lonely… I would burn the world down. I would turn cities to ash, salt the ground.
And I did that. To her.
“Az.”
