25. Leah
Leah
“So what did I miss?” Aster asks as she slides into her seat at the table the next morning, stretching and yawning before she reaches for the nearest pile of sweet things.
“What did you miss?” I repeat incredulously.
“There’s no Syrus or Viz at breakfast. That usually means they’re busy with something big.”
“They’re dealing with the aftermath of the rising,” I say. When that gets me nothing but a blank look, I go on to explain what happened at the lake. Aster’s expression turns horrified as I talk about the mireborn who died.
“I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t know. I was out at a lunch thing that turned into dinner and then, well…
” She reaches out a hand to me from across the table, apologetic.
“I’ll check in on Sy later. That can’t have been easy for him, poor dear.
I thought you two were finally going to start exploring those leads in Strata again to figure out what’s wrong with the Morphos.
He’s been dying to get to the bottom of this mess, and he’ll only blame himself for not doing more now. ”
I don’t like the guilt that needles me when I think about the reason he cut our Strata trip short yesterday. Then there’s the fact that he’s already been delaying things so I don’t end up stabbed the moment we get anywhere near some thug with a knife again.
I’m not going to apologize for needing training for a job I never intended to have, but after yesterday, I’ve been reminded I have a stake in this deal working out too. And that was before I watched those demons die on the shore of the Morphos.
“I don’t get it,” I say to Aster, unable to keep my thoughts to myself any longer. It’s been bugging me all night. “He seems to genuinely care about the souls who come to Malice.”
“He does,” Aster says simply. “He’s mireborn; he’s been through it too. What’s there to be confused about?”
“But that’s exactly it,” I say. “He was tricked into this life like the rest of them. So why does he let the deals go ahead? He’s in charge of the soul snares. He could put a stop to all of it. Does he just not want to stand up to the other lords?”
Aster laughs. “Darling, that man would stand up to an entire army of demon lords to do right by the people he’s meant to look out for.”
I nod. Despite everything he’s done to me, I’m beginning to believe that about Syrus. Which is why this whole thing still troubles me so much. “So how does he justify it? I know the soul deals keep demon numbers up, but is that it?”
“What do you mean ‘is that it’?” Asterim asks, shaking her head. “My dear, you’re a bright woman, but for someone who spent years making money off the war, you understand very little about it.”
My attitude is starting to annoy her, but I’m not willing to drop this. “The Rancor lord, Kaliban, said he needed soldiers for his army. It seems pretty cruel to sign people up to become demons just so you have some able bodies for the next battle.”
“I’m not just talking about the army. I’m talking about the whole of Infernum,” Asterim replies.
“There are simply more ephilium than us, and we won’t survive if we’re not active about building our population.
So we do what we can to even the scales.
We don’t steal souls—we make bargains. We get what we need, and the humans get what they need, too…
sometimes twice over. Did it ever occur to you that Strata is no picnic for some souls?
Did you ever think some of them might be better off in Infernum? ”
She’s wearing a fierce expression I’ve never seen on her before.
“Are you talking about Syrus?” I ask.
“No,” she sighs, picking up her spoon to dig aggressively into her large bowl of fruit and cream—more cream than fruit, actually.
“Although he’d never say he was ‘tricked’ into his deal with Ajax.
He made his choice. Maybe he didn’t realize every part of the price he was paying, but even now, he would say it was worth it. ”
She pauses with the spoon halfway to her mouth, grabs a sugar shaker from the table, and upturns it over the bowl and her spoon before she takes another mouthful.
“But what about everyone else? Most people aren’t trying to save a kingdom, after all.”
Aster takes a moment to savor the spoon of pure sugar she just ate, then looks up at me.
“Do you know what happens if a mireborn swims in the lake after they’ve risen, my dear?”
I blink at the sudden left turn. “Erm, no?”
“We get glimpses of our past life—flashes of the memories our souls let go of when we first entered the lake.”
My mouth drops open a little. “You can?”
“Yes. Most mireborn never do. They usually move on from the lake pretty quickly. But me? I live with someone who has all his memories and I live right by the damn lake. So you can imagine it only took me a decade before I got curious.”
I say nothing. Something about her tone tells me she’s not about to share fun reminiscences about being human.
“It turns out I made my soul deal very young. I must’ve been about nineteen, and I was dying from the kind of nasty disease you pick up when you’ve spent five years working in one of the foulest brothels Strata has to offer.”
Her delicate hands cradle the bowl in front of her, and she lifts her chin as she levels a stare at me.
“I got a few glimpses of my life, and every moment was full of misery and pain and suffering. I thank that poor girl every day that she was smart and brave enough to do what she did. To give herself—me—a second chance at life. It wasn’t until I rose again that I had any real shot at living, and we both deserved that fucking much. ”
I look down at my own breakfast, my throat tight. I want to reach back across the years and distance and rescue that poor, abused young girl who was Asterim. But even if I wanted to, I don’t need to. She saved herself.
“I’m so sorry, Aster,” I say, rubbing away the tears. I won’t let them fall, not when Aster’s managed to tell her own story clear-eyed. “But I’m very glad that you got to come to Infernum.”
Of course, knowing what she knows, she’s never going to waste a second of her second chance.
She’s going to stay up every night, partying until dawn.
She’s going to wear beautiful things every day and have second and third helpings of the delicious thing on her plate—with extra sugar, when she feels like it.
And every single thing she does is for that trapped little girl—rewarding her for making it through to the other side.
Even if that other side is a different realm entirely.
“It might seem like the snares target the most vulnerable and desperate people in Strata so they can manipulate them,” Aster says, her voice gentler now.
“But it’s not manipulation to give a person something they’ve always wanted and never been able to have—a life free from all the burdens they’ve carried for too long.
Syrus made it clear when he became the guardian of the Morphos that they should only approach people who need it. ”
She rests her elbows on the table, cradling her chin in her palm. “They’re selling a second chance at life, darling, so why is it wrong to offer that to people who didn’t get a fair run the first time around?”
It’s true that life in Infernum isn’t a punishment. I can see how it’s better than Strata in some respects. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve found more than a few pockets of peace here despite everything.
My mind serves up the image of the demon breathing her last, labored breaths on the shore, and of Syrus’s distress as he comforted her.
Speaking of justice—is it fair that those demons last night got their second chance ripped from them so brutally?
They went through so much to be reborn, only to breathe their last breaths minutes after their first. War is one thing—flying out onto the plains knowing full well you might not come back is a risk every soldier accepts.
But this feels much uglier, a cruel and unnecessary tragedy.
The strange thing is that I, of all people, might actually be able to do something about it.
Syrus
I thought I had power as a human king, then I emerged from the Morphos and discovered there was another dimension of power I’d never seen before.
Demons dropped their eyes when I walked into rooms, or else rushed to make themselves scarce.
The other lords were automatically distrustful, as if my very existence was a challenge to them.
With the exception of Asterim, who’d risen with me and seen me from my first few, bewildered moments in Infernum, I wasn’t just treated with deference as the demon Ajax made me. I was feared.
But the fearsome Lord of Malice has been hiding all week. And what’s more, it’s from that most terrifying and threatening of beings—a human woman with green eyes and freckles.
I had no idea freckles could be so dangerous. Because every time I see them, I want to touch them, to lift her face to mine and study them, perhaps count them one by one so I can know exactly how many ways that sun-touched face has found to ruin me.
What’s worse is I suspect she’d let me. The way she tilted her head back as I bent down to her in my office said that she might be open to more than just an errant touch from me.
From the beginning, this binding spell has been doing strange, confusing things to us—blurring the edges between our minds and bodies, drawing us to one another even when I’m not possessing her.
Any desire she has for me can’t be trusted, no matter how overwhelmed I am by all the gentle, lovely things she says to me in the quiet corners of my office.
She can’t be trusted. Not when Viz and I are still trying to understand who—or what—she really is.
Not when she disappears for hours on end and then wouldn’t walk away from Infernum even when I offered her the chance.
When it comes to what the Lord of Malice fears, it’s this: that the bond between us might be setting the wheels of fate in motion in a way I, even with all the power Ajax carved into me, cannot control.