18. Leah
Leah
Instead of answering Asterim’s question, I jump three steps ahead, my brain whipping through the implications.
“So when exactly did you and Syrus become demons?” I ask, wanting to confirm my suspicions.
“Just over three hundred years ago,” she says, smiling. “I know, I look good for my age, don’t I? Not quite as youthful as Syrus though,” she pulls a face. “Most of the lords age slower than your average demon; it’s a power thing.”
I don’t dig into that just yet. Three centuries? That puts Syrus in Strata back before it was unified, when it was still split up into smaller kingdoms.
Ada might’ve pulled me out of school early, but I sat through enough history lessons to remember the names of some of those kingdoms and their rulers.
“The Kaldares were royalty,” I say, and Asterim’s gaze brightens, pleased I’ve worked it out myself. I wonder if she let his last name slip earlier on purpose to see if I’d make the connection on my own. “Was Syrus a king?”
She nods. “Suddenly, Lord of Malice seems a bit like a demotion, doesn’t it?”
I don’t really agree, not when you can feel the magic rolling off Syrus, and when you look around at Malice and see a thriving domain, despite Infernum being at war.
The thought feeds into a hunch I’ve been forming. “The Kaldares ruled over Fenlire, right? That’s where Pax is now.” I knew there was something odd about Syrus’s reaction to the river, though why he’d be surprised to see it when it’s been there for three centuries is still beyond me.
“Yes, Pax is built on the foundations of Fenlire’s old capital,” Asterim says.
I nod, although we’re nearing the limits of my historical knowledge. “That was back before the Concords were signed. It must’ve been a nightmare to live there then, with the cities so unprotected.”
“Dark times,” Asterim agrees, “full of death and fire. Not that I remember a lot from my human life. I made my deal later than Syrus. His soul was in the lake a while. But when we rose together, it was mostly still the same in Strata. Infernum’s and Aradis’s armies would fight wherever the war took them, and cities were razed to the ground as collateral damage.
Fenlire and its capital were nearly destroyed—they would’ve been, if it wasn’t for the deal Ajax offered Syrus. ”
I was taking a sip of my own drink as she talked, and now I nearly choke on it.
“Wait. Ajax was the one Syrus sold his soul to? Was that before or after he chose Syrus to be his heir?”
“It was at the same time,” Asterim says, uncharacteristically sad.
“That was the deal Syrus made. Fenlire’s capital was about to be destroyed in a battle between Infernum and Aradis.
Part of the kingdom had already been burned to the ground, even though Syrus and his army had done everything they could to stop it.
Then the capital was starting to burn too, and they knew they were doomed.
He could have survived if he’d fled away from the capital.
But Syrus still wanted to stay to defend his city and his people. ”
She huffs out a laugh. “That’s Syrus though. Loyal to the bitter end. It impressed Ajax. He was getting older, and he’d been looking for an heir for a while. He didn’t like any of the options in Malice, but he saw in Syrus someone who would put his duty to his kingdom above all else.”
I think about that day by the Morphos, when Syrus tenderly greeted the newly risen demons. I certainly couldn’t accuse him of not taking his role as its guardian seriously. It’s the whole reason I’m here, after all.
“So Ajax offered him the deal?” I prompt.
“Yes, Ajax would order Infernum’s troops to save the city, driving the ephilium back from its borders rather than allowing it to become a smoking pile of rubble and corpses. In return, Syrus would leave his kingdom behind and be reborn in Infernum, to become Ajax’s successor.”
A little chill runs through me. “And when you say leave…”
Asterim gives me a weak smile. “There’s only one way to make a demon out of a human, my dear.”
“Ajax killed him?” My jaw drops, even though I knew that was where this was going. In order for his soul to travel to Infernum, he would logically have to die.
Asterim is playing with her glass, eyes fixed on the rim as she answers me. “Darling, he killed himself.”
The air comes out of me in a rush. I rest my head against the back of the booth, absorbing all this.
I distantly recall learning about the Kaldare line coming to a tragic end.
They were replaced by some other set of kings and queens after, though they couldn’t have lasted long.
Unification was Strata’s ultimate answer to being torn apart by the supernaturals.
That in turn allowed enough humans to band together to demand the Concords be created.
Strength in numbers was humanity’s only play—there have always been a lot more of us than there are of them.
Which brings me back to that coveted commodity—human souls.
Syrus signed his over and has spent the better part of three centuries in a life he never asked for.
At least now some of his behavior makes sense—it’s obvious he doesn’t like all the elements of Malice.
I’d go so far as to say he doesn’t care for parts of being a demon at all.
Because he didn’t choose this. Well, he chose it like I chose my residency in Infernum—he was forced into an impossible decision with death as the alternative. For me, it was only my death I was staring in the face, and Syrus had a whole kingdom of people to worry about.
I can’t decide what that means to me. If it means anything. So I focus on something simpler instead.
“That’s why you all speak the common tongue instead of Cyrax at the castle?” I ask. It’s something I’ve been curious about. “Because he misses being human?”
Asterim rubs her forehead. “My dear, I don’t know what goes on in that man’s mind. I might be his closest friend, but there’s a lot he doesn’t like to talk about. Personally, I think dwelling in the past is a fool’s philosophy.”
“I know,” I say. “You’re all about living in the here and now.”
She grins at me, offering up her glass. “I love that you get me, darling. Cheers to that.”
We clink drinks and down what’s left of them. The alcohol sinks into me, draping me in a lovely, soft fuzziness. The band’s drummers start up a new song, the beat pulsing through my veins, and Asterim grabs my hand.
“We’ve forgotten something. We came here to have fun,” she stands up, pulling me with her. “I want to see if Stratans these days know how to move.”
She drags me over to where the other demons are dancing.
For a moment, I’m lost. It’s been a long time since I was anywhere like this, a place where the only goal is enjoyment—to celebrate and feel good, to live.
But as Asterim starts to sway, closing her eyes with the swelling strings, I follow her lead. I let the music take me over. I let go.
The rocking of the other bodies guides us, bending and swaying to the rhythm. A month ago, I would’ve been terrified to even be in the same room as these people, but here, and now, it doesn’t matter that they’re red-eyed or have fangs and talons; we all move the same.
Asterim takes hold of me, and we whirl around the dance floor together, skipping and spinning and laughing as we trip over our own feet. For a few hours, it’s as if I’ve slipped into another life—one free of all my burdens and cares.
I dance until my feet burn. I drink until I feel like I’m floating. It’s only Asterim pulling a glass from my hand and leading me toward the exit that stops me from going until dawn.
“Can’t we stay a little longer?” I beg, tugging her back toward the door as she tries to wrestle me into the waiting carriage.
“Sweet darkness, that training’s working,” she says, digging her heels in and wriggling out from my grip. She quicksteps behind me and pushes me from behind. “Come on, Syrus will have my head if I don’t get you back before the ourani brighten.”
“No…Aster…” I gasp, turning and squeezing her face between my hands. “He can’t have it. Your head is too pretty.”
She laughs as she shoves me up to the carriage. “Don’t I know it, darling. So do me a favor and get in.”
I stumble on the step up, which is somehow hilarious, and I fall against the seat laughing.
Aster whispers something in Cyrax to the kelaryn, and then we’re taking off, soaring over the mountains toward the castle.
As the flames flare in the dark sky above us and the sweet-smelling wind rushes up to tug at my hair through the open window, I feel like I’m in a dream.
And for the first time since coming to Infernum, it’s not a nightmare.
When I get to my room, I collapse onto my bed. Triya’s nowhere to be seen—she seems to like to be elsewhere at night—and I’m glad, as it allows me to spread out across the mattress, letting the room spin around me for a bit.
I know I should get up and drink some water, but instead I close my eyes, dragging my fingertips in loose circles across my arms. My body feels sensitive, awake, despite the fogginess of my mind. It’s a little like when a certain someone moves beneath my skin, making my nerves tingle.
The thought takes me back to what Asterim told me about Syrus.
I can see it now—the human king lurking behind those demon eyes.
A man who would do anything to protect his kingdom.
I can imagine how, if you were someone who mattered to him, he’d be a fearsome protector.
Strong and unyielding. He certainly looked the part in the courtyard earlier today…
The way my body reacted to him annoyed me then, but here, alone in my room, it doesn’t feel so dangerous. I’m relaxed and sleepy and warm, and I don’t see the harm in letting my hand sink lower, gently drawing up the hem of my dress and slipping beneath my underwear.