Chapter Eleven
Nina
The feast was in full swing. Candles flickered from iron chandeliers, bringing a golden glow to the vast hall. Haunting music swelled from an unseen source. The ceiling shimmered like a sky full of stars – except there were no stars here. This was Hell. And I planned to meet a demon.
What was worse, it felt like every soul in the room turned to me. Whispers wafted through the space, words I couldn’t hear, but the narrowed eyes that followed me spoke volumes.
My dress wasn’t helping. The red fabric clung to me, and not just because I was sweating in the damn heat.
It was tight fitting, with a plunging neckline and thin straps exposing more skin than I was used to.
It was something I’d imagined from the fairytale books I’d read as a child, worn by magnificent royalty in wealthy kingdoms. I only imagined mine as a darker fabric, a deep red that looked jet-black in a certain light.
Beaded embellishments scattered like embers against the lace, and the hem pooled behind me.
It commanded attention, and that’s what I got.
I raised my chin upwards, pushed my long red hair over my shoulders and stepped into the chaos.
A banquet table stretched through the centre of the room, so long that it seemed to fade into the distance. Plates overflowed with food and drink – succulent meats glistening under candlelight, fruit arranged in pristine piles, goblets brimming with liquid that sparkled like magic.
But the throne-like obsidian chair at the head of the table was empty.
My shoulders slumped. I’d come here to meet the Demon of Temptation, but they were fashionably late.
Unless they were here already . . .
Leander, Elise and even Kob kept their secrets close. Any one of them could be lying. Any one of them could be the demon I was desperate to find.
By the gods, maybe I had already met the bastard who’d dragged me here.
I exhaled and reached for a goblet on the banquet table. The sparkling liquid inside changed from red to gold. I sniffed it suspiciously, then took a small sip. Sweetness hit my tongue first before warmth slid down my throat.
It didn’t burn like Barnard’s whiskey back home. The stuff was vile, but Tobias and I would trade for it because it was all we had. Tobias couldn’t get enough of it. This, though, was bubbly, sweet, too easy to swallow. If he were here, he’d laugh and say I’d finally found something worth drinking.
Temptation wasn’t like home. The drinks here were smoother and sweeter. I swallowed more delicious liquid and let my gaze drift over the crowd.
Hundreds of people were draped in silk and lace or wore dark ensembles. Conversations hummed, blending with the quiet clinking of goblets and the distant swell of stringed instruments.
I felt out of place. A lost soul in a sea of wicked people. That’s what I told myself at least. But I was damned like all the others here, doomed to an eternity in Hell.
Calm down, calm down, calm down.
I couldn’t let my mind unravel. Not when I was so close to meeting the Demon of Temptation. I straightened my spine and stepped into the crowd, weaving through clusters of murmurs.
If this was the Demon of Temptation’s grand spectacle, where were they?
I cleared my throat, trying to catch the attention of the woman beside me.
Her silver gown hung from her tall frame and clung to her hips before pooling on the floor.
She didn’t look at me, but continued running her finger around the rim of her goblet, her eyes fixed in the crowd. I hesitated, then stepped closer.
“Where’s the demon?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
She blinked at me, then smiled. “Over there.” With a tilt of her chin and an amused glint in her eye, she turned away and slipped into the crowd of bodies.
I scanned the direction she’d gestured to, but there were more people, more velvet and silk and lace, more hollow laughter.
I clenched my teeth. I was sick of this game. I was sick of the overwhelming anxiety in the pit of my stomach.
I just wanted to rest in my bedchambers. Alone.
Frustration knotted in my chest, and I pushed through the crowd again.
Someone came too close, their perfume stifling, and I jerked away.
Another person moved in front of me with a glazed expression on their face, and a lazy smile on their lips.
I ignored them, weaving around the room faster, desperate to find the demon, desperate to get answers—
Then I collided with something solid. A firm hand caught my arm, steadying me. My head snapped up, and I barely had time to process the cobalt-blue eyes and the amused arch of his brow.
Leander.
And judging by the smirk tugging at his lips, he enjoyed seeing me squirm.
“Hello, little Champion.”
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“You finally decided to discard those hideous clothes,” he said, eyes roaming over my outfit.
I scowled at him. “Why do you care?”
“Well, you now look like you belong here dressed in that.” His eyes glittered before he cast his gaze across the crowd. The room was abuzz with drunken chatter. Leander appeared completely at ease here, clad in a loose black shirt unbuttoned at the neck to expose a hint of his chest beneath.
I levelled him with a look. “So, where are they?”
“Who?” Leander tilted his head and grinned, as if the question was amusing.
I narrowed my eyes. “You know who.”
His lips twitched, a half-smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “And what would you do when you finally find him?”
“I have a few ideas,” I said flatly. “First, I’ll demand answers. Like why he dragged me into this mess.”
Leander chuckled. “Let’s hope you find the demon then, little Champion.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He was watching me closely. Observing. Calculating.
Could it be him? He danced around questions, saying just enough but never too much. He knew more than he let on. He held onto secrets, that much was clear. And (Mother save me) he was beautiful. Could a demon really look like that?
Oh, get it together. I nearly laughed at myself. I shook the thought away before it could root any deeper.
“You’re quiet for someone who often has so much to say.”
Leander’s lips twitched upward. “Are you suggesting I talk too much?”
“Yes, you like the sound of your own voice.”
He chuckled and tipped his goblet towards me in a mock salute. He let the pause linger before adding, “I prefer to listen, sometimes. You’d be amazed at what you can learn when you stop trying to fill the silence with words.”
I leaned in slightly. “That sounds dangerously close to wisdom. Should I be worried?”
“Only if you start taking me seriously.” His tone was teasing, but there was something in his eyes, like a flicker of something more thoughtful and genuine.
I hesitated, then asked, “Have you always been curious?”
Leander tilted his head, considering me. “What do you think?”
“I think you ask more questions than you answer,” I shot back.
He grinned. “A habit I picked up from a warlock.”
That made me pause. “A warlock?”
He swirled the liquid in his goblet. “When I was young, before I came here—” he paused and gestured at the room, “—I was insatiable for knowledge. Not just stories but real, tangible things. The things people whispered about but never dared chase themselves.”
I arched my brow. “Like what?”
Leander studied me as if weighing how much to tell me. Then, he said, “Secrets of the dead. How to call them, how to listen when they answer.”
A chill ran down my spine. “And did you?”
His smirk faded into something wistful. “Yes.”
A beat of silence stretched between us.
“So, you were the kind of child who spent his time pestering old warlocks?” I asked, half-teasing, half-genuine.
Leander let out a low chuckle. “Pestering? No. Learning? Yes. He told me knowledge was like hunger. The more you feed it, the more ravenous it becomes. And I was starving for it.”
I considered him, weighing this mysterious man more closely. There was a sharp mind behind his charm. He wasn’t just the arrogant, silver-tongued figure he pretended to be. I wondered what else he could be hiding.
“And now?” I asked, keeping my voice light. “Still hungry?”
Leander’s smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Always.”
A shiver ran through me, not from fear but something else. A woman in blue silk glided by, the colour of her dress almost matching Leander’s eyes. She touched his arm in silent invitation, and his attention flickered towards her.
“Why don’t you hunt down the demon you’re so eager to meet?” he said, before floating away, following the beautiful soul deep into the crowd.
It seemed that Leander wasn’t who I was looking for after all.
I grabbed a goblet from a passing server’s tray and downed the molten liquid in one go. Heat bloomed in my chest, not just warmth from the wine or the closeness of the crowd, but something more like anger.
I was sick of everyone in this place. Sick of pretending. Sick of prancing around in a dress that didn’t feel like mine.
A man caught my attention as he wove through the crowd towards me. His expression was bright and genuine, and for a moment, the room felt a little less suffocating.
“Jules,” he said, reminding me.
He was dressed finer than when I last saw him, trading his simple tunic and patchwork coat for a blue suit with silver edging. His messy dark hair remained the same, those untamed curls softening the sharpness of his face.
I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “Yes, I remember.”
“You dressed up,” he said.
“I did.”
Jules started humming. “I’m half-convinced that I’ll wake up and find this was all some elaborate dream.”
I glanced at the overflowing banquet table. Souls were tearing into food like they hadn’t eaten in centuries. Others were pressed up against the walls, practically having sex. I saw breasts, thighs and thrusting buttocks. “If this is a dream, it’s a twisted one.”