31
“Attack me without me using my hands.”
I exhale slowly. Darya and I have been practicing for hours. He has never spoken to me so equally before. His face is neither challenging nor playful. He is seriously focused on the fight. His arms relax, and I do as he says.
I aim a punch at his face, but he easily dodges it.
“This is ridiculous!” I snarl. “Just use your hands. At least then I’ll believe I’m actually fighting!”
He shrugs and tenses his arms.
I attack, trying to hit his side, but he catches my arm, twists it, and presses me against his back.
“Shall I use my arms now?” he whispers in my ear.
I don’t reward him with an answer. Instead, I elbow him in the stomach. He pulls away but trips me, and I end up on the ground. He towers over me.
“Your balance is off.”
I growl.
Lying on the ground, I kick his shin, causing him to stagger. Yes!
I try to strike his face, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me to a standing position. I’m weightless to him.
“That’s enough,” he declares indifferently. “We’re going to practice the moves.”
I grab the wrist holding my arm. He doesn’t expect it; he thinks I’m obeying. His grip on me is too loose, and I yank with all my strength and punch him in the throat. He coughs, and I smile. Even he underestimates me.
Darya places his black, clawed hand on his neck, twisting it like a snake.
When he looks at me, his gaze darkens, and the tattoos running from the corners of his eyes tremble, before disappearing again.
I take a step back, feeling a cold sweat slide down my neck.
The demon doesn’t attack; he merely smiles with satisfaction.
“Good job,” he acknowledges, filling me with more pride than I should feel. “But now, let’s focus on the moves.”
I sigh deeply, knowing that this will hurt.
During my three months of training with Kripot, and with Lizander’s help, I was also taught close combat. Darya and I go over these moves as well, but somehow, I always feel he holds onto me more than necessary.
When I can barely stand, we take a break, and he pushes a huge serving of ambrosia towards me.
“What is this?” I ask Darya.
“Just eat it,” he encourages. “Imagine the taste that you miss most from your world.”
I imagine it and let Darya lift a morsel to my lips. The taste of roasted meat fills my mouth. Darya smiles contentedly and then takes a spoonful himself. I watch as it slides down his throat. Isn’t he supposed to just drink blood?
The hours of training leave me feeling liberated, my thoughts clearer.
One day, I will need to take the celestial orbs, but for that, I must drink Darya’s blood, and I don’t want to.
Or maybe I want it too much. I gaze at the distant sheep clouds, pondering the impossible situation I’m in.
Angels and demons are fighting over me simultaneously. No one has ever fought for me before.
Except Bengt.
My brother protected me every day as a child when my parents rebelled against me.
Even though he was sick, Bengt didn’t let me believe a word they said about how worthless I was, how much I had already harmed our family.
I just cried as those I trusted continued to destroy me, for something – now I know for sure – I couldn’t help.
Grief pierces my heart like a thorn, and I pull my arms closer to myself. Bengt’s absence overwhelms me, like a heavy, black cloak that blocks out the sun.
“Who gave you the medallion?”
I blink in confusion, as if returning from somewhere far away. I stare at Darya. His gaze is fixed on my chest, so I follow his line of sight.
I hadn’t even noticed that I was clutching my necklace tightly.
“My brother gave it to me for my birthday.”
The demon doesn’t speak for a while, but my face burns under his gaze.
“When did he get sick?” he asks, and I look at him, surprised. He regards me curiously.
“I was five, he was seven. Around then, I started seeing your demons, so the attention often shifted to me, not him. His cancer kept returning for the next seven years. I always thought he’d get better. Then he was gone.”
Because of me.
I don’t say that last thought out loud. Sharing such a deep thing with the Demon King feels like… selling a part of myself to him. I can’t look at Darya, so I lose myself in the cloudy sky again.
“Were you really there?” I ask. “When Pandora opened the box?”
Darya stays silent for so long that I finally look at him, but I freeze at his wicked smile.
“You met her.”
I nod.
“In the Mirror of Knowledge?”
“Yes. Does she appear to you, as well?”
He nods.
“So, you know her…”
“I wouldn’t say we’re on speaking terms,” Darya says, looking at me suggestively. “Our last meeting didn’t go exactly as she wanted. Although, who knows…”
“What does that mean?”
He smiles mysteriously.
“Pandora hides many secrets. And she knows a lot about a lot of things.”
My heart skips a beat as I grasp the meaning of his words. Does she know where the dagger is, too?
I have to go there. If she’s still willing to talk to me. Our last encounter didn’t go well for either of us.
“I’m honestly curious,” Darya says, changing the subject, “about what kind of blood flowed in your brother’s veins.”
I laugh mockingly and look at Darya challengingly.
“Let me help you. You wouldn’t find a drop of demon blood in him. Bengt was an angel, even as a human.”
I bite my lip. What does it even mean to be an angel? Bengt was too good; even as a child, he wanted to help everyone. I don’t know exactly what it means to become an angel, but he definitely wouldn’t have been a demon.
I put the bowl of ambrosia on the table and stand up, only for Darya to be beside me in an instant. He’s so tall that his broad shoulders cast a shadow over me, his silver hair falling into his gray eyes.
“I doubt your brother would be among the herebias.” Darya’s voice is sincere and quiet. Before I can react, he presses me against the table. My eyes widen, and my heart starts pounding faster. I freeze as his fingers touch my face, pushing my short hair behind my ear.
“It suits you,” he whispers, and I feel like I’m done for good, falling apart. I need to get out of here, but Darya’s body is pressed against mine. I feel his muscles harden, pushing into my soft spots. He leans closer, my lips burning with the desire to touch his.
He’s too close. If I don’t escape now, I never will.
I use the move he’s been teaching me all day. I press my hip against his side and punch him in the stomach. He doubles over and steps back, and I use the space, pulling him towards me and kneeing him in the stomach again.
He laughs. I push my hips out and drag him to the table.
Without thinking, I grab the bowl of ambrosia and smash it against his head.
It breaks hard against his skull. I should jump on him, continue what I started, but I hesitate.
He takes advantage of the opportunity. He sweeps my legs, then pulls me beside him, pushing me into a stone wall.
He hovers over me, presses his chest against mine, pinning my arms above my head.
“Why did you stop?” he asks coldly, and I’m surprised. I try to free myself, but I can only weakly struggle.
“I don’t know!” I confess.
“You shouldn’t have,” he says softly, his voice ringing with hunger. “Now you’re mine.”
He spreads my legs with his foot, pressing his forehead against mine. I can’t move.
“Which part of me is still free?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Where could you hit me?” he repeats, and I quickly assess the situation. My hands are pinned, my legs are immobile, and my body is pressed between him and the wall. I have no idea how to burn him, but Darya said not to rely on that, anyway. I have nothing to defend myself with. Unless…
Without thinking, I spit in Darya’s eye, then headbutt him as hard as I can. It’s like a cannonball colliding with my forehead, and I wince.
The demon’s grip loosens, and I aim a kick at his groin.
Or I would, if he didn’t close his legs at the last moment.
He lets go, and I roll out from his grip.
My head throbs terribly, and the space around me sways.
Darya looks at me, wiping his eyes. A proud smile appears on his face, making my heart dance in my chest. I lower my arms. When he speaks, his voice is serious and deep.
“There is always a way out, Kindra. Never forget that. You are capable of finding it.”