19. Syrus
Syrus
Ipace the length of the castle’s great hall, waiting for Quill to announce the arrival of the first lord.
I’m impatient more than tense. I bought myself a few weeks suspending the snare deals without notifying them, but I knew it was only a matter of time before one of them got wind and had something to say about it.
Viz sits at a table in the corner, scribbling down notes. He glances at me as I pass by.
“Have you decided how much you’re going to tell them yet?” he asks.
I grunt in response, partly because that’s dependent on how much vagueness they’ll accept, and partly because my mind isn’t really on the upcoming meeting.
Normally, Aster—and even sometimes Viz—begs me to think about something other than my duties, and I know I should be steeling myself for what’s to come.
It’s never exactly friendly when the rulers of Infernum all get together, but I can’t stop my mind wandering.
And lately, it always wanders to the same place—Leah.
It doesn’t make sense, this space she takes up in my thoughts when I barely know anything about the woman.
Except I feel like I do know her. Slowly and surely, she’s been dropping crumbs that I snap up like some pathetic, starving animal: That her mother passed away.
That she wanted to be a botanist once. That sometimes she moans in very interesting ways when she’s training.
And yet there’s still so many questions I badly want the answer to.
Like what—or who—was she thinking about when her hand was between her legs last night? What sound would she have made when she came undone, breathless and satisfied, if I hadn’t interrupted her?
Of course, I had no idea what I was intruding on when I first slid into her mind.
But her flustered response had me making a closer inspection, and then I felt it—the fire lighting up her nerves, the liquid heat pooling at her core.
It gripped me too, like a jolt of lightning passing through me, and I was up and on my feet without even thinking.
I came to my senses on the way to her room, thank darkness.
Her arguing with me strangely helped, cooling the madness that tugged on me like a leash to her door.
I’ve chalked it up to the bond, the way its magic intertwines our senses and consciousness, eroding our boundaries.
Like that moment in training when I entered her mind as our skin touched.
It had sparked something feral and dangerous in me, a closeness so intense it was like I could feel her under my skin rather than the other way around.
With it came a terrifying hunger for more.
It must be why I had to fight not to do something insane when I first saw her in the dress Aster put her in for their night out.
It was only by keeping my eyes glued to anything other than her that I controlled the urge to touch her.
In the end, I had to walk away, realizing it was probably best Aster take her out of the castle for a few hours so I could get a hold of myself.
And still, I couldn’t resist visiting her mind while she was in the city. That was a mistake too, only stoking the feral thing awakening inside me when that cockroach tried to seduce her.
Yet none if it was as disturbing as what she managed to do next.
“Something happened last night,” I say to Viz. He lifts his head, raising a silvery eyebrow.
“Is that why I found you two alone in the garden?” he asks. I try not to read anything into the fact he immediately knows I’m talking about Leah.
“No,” I respond, too abruptly. “I don’t mean that.”
“Good, because I hope I don’t need to point out the issue with getting too involved, given she’s not exactly a willing visitor to Malice.” He says it lightly, his eyes on the parchment, obviously trying not to offend. And still, I’m offended.
“Of course not,” I reply, turning away. That’s why I’ll fight whatever side effects the link between us throws at me, no matter how strong the pull.
Our deal is about her helping me go to Strata.
I won’t ask for anything more—I don’t want to—not when she might feel she has no choice in the matter.
Despite whatever hungry thing is stirring within me, that thought repels me.
“I’m talking about something that happened while I was possessing her,” I explain. “She pushed me out.”
Viz’s quill pauses. “What?”
“She managed to eject me from her mind. Once when she was in the city, and again when I was speaking to her in her room. Both times, she acted like nothing had happened. Which means she either doesn’t realize what she’s doing or is pretending that she doesn’t.”
“I didn’t think—” Viz drops his quill, shaking his head. “She’s not supposed to be able to do that.”
“Exactly,” I say, and we share a meaningful look.
“All right, I’ll see if I can find out how she’s doing it,” he says. “But we have slightly more pressing matters right now.”
Hearing him saying it out loud makes it easier for me to redirect my mind at last, shutting out thoughts of a certain redhead and focusing on what lies ahead of me.
Lady Jing, prompt as ever, is the first to arrive. She’s dressed elegantly but still practically, in loose, mustard-colored pants that cinch in at the waist and ankle and a sweeping leather coat. As she sits down, she adjusts her elaborate black braids so they trail down the back of the chair.
“Good afternoon, Lady Jing,” I say, offering her an incline of my head.
“Save the pleasantries for the old folk, Lord Syrus,” she says with a smile which shows her fangs. Some might feel being the youngest lord of Infernum would put them at a disadvantage. Lady Jing wears it like a badge of pride.
Second comes Liege Damein. As usual, they’re draped in swathes of fabric, their loose robes giving little indication as to the shape of the body underneath them.
I’ve never seen their full face, and, as ever, a black veil covers the lower half of it today.
Though Damein is the oldest among us—nearly 600—the yellow eyes peering out over the veil are sharp and knowing.
“Lord Syrus, I hope you’re well, and if not, that the ourani shine brighter on you soon,” Liege Damein’s voice is soft and croaky, except as they shake my hand, it’s impossible not to feel the strength of their clawed grip.
You don’t survive ruling a demon domain for half a millennium by being weak.
“May they shine brighter on all of us, Liege Damein,” I say. Damein loves to talk in vague idioms and riddles, and I find it best to simply respond in kind rather than try to decipher them.
“Truth is a faithful friend, Lord Syrus, even when it mocks us,” Damein continues as they settle down in their seat, and then, as if it was the logical segue from this declaration: “It may be pertinent to mention that Lord Kaliban was the one who insisted we call this meeting.”
“You’ve done it this time, Lord Syrus,” Lady Jing says, cold pleasure in her striking eyes—red irises swimming in a pool of black.
“Always my most loyal supporter, Lady Jing,” I say with a smile. She bares her fangs in return, half amusement, half challenge.
The edge of aggression between us is nothing new.
As the ruler of Baine, the mountain mines that dominate her domain are one of Infernum’s most precious resources.
But the Morphos beats it, and for that reason, I think she’s always seen herself in competition with me to be the most influential lord.
She loves it when Kaliban and I are at odds—it serves to weaken my position and benefit her.
Not that Kaliban is much into harmony either way.
The marching of several pairs of heavy boots has us all turning toward the door.
Damein and Jing will have brought a few of their people each, as is standard protocol, but Kaliban always likes to turn up with a contingent of soldiers to remind us that he’s the head of Infernum’s army—as if it was possible to forget.
“There he is,” Kaliban announces as he strides through the doors.
We’re more or less the same height, but Kaliban is much broader, built like a carthorse, with bone-colored skin striped with war ink—a record of battles won.
His long silver hair is pulled back from his face, exposing curling red horns.
“Why in darkness’s name do you look like that, Kaldare?
” he demands, looking over my largely human appearance.
I shrug like I hadn’t even thought about it, even though I very deliberately kept my wings on display for the sake of this meeting. Kaliban might be bigger in some aspects, but my wingspan has always outmatched his, and I know he finds that…grating.
“I wanted a change,” I say casually, gesturing for Kaliban to sit. “Liege Damein has just been telling me that you wanted this meeting, Lord Kaliban.”
“I did,” he says, direct as ever. “Because I want to know why the fuck you’ve suspended the snare deals.”
“More importantly, without consulting us,” Lady Jing adds.
I keep my voice controlled, but firm. “You’re welcome to hear my reasoning now, Lady Jing, since you’re all here and no doubt curious. But I won’t apologize for making a decision about my domain.”
“You don’t rule over every snare in Infernum, Lord Syrus,” Lady Jing points out, eyes narrowed.
“Only most of them,” I say. “But that’s beside the point. We all know I’m the guardian of the lake, and I decide who gets access to it. If the soul snares want to keep making deals, they’ll play by my rules.”
“After all, the miner won’t be told where to dig by the fisherman, Lady Jing,” Liege Damein says, and Jing throws them an annoyed look, though she stays silent. Obviously, Jing wouldn’t accept any of us trying to tell her how to run Baine’s mines, so she can hardly do the same to me.
“Forget that,” Kaliban grunts. “I need souls. I need soldiers. How do you expect us to crush the ephilium when you’re robbing us of the fastest way to make more able demons?”