Chapter 19
Isabelle
My body feels like it’s been hit by a tractor and then backed over for good measure.
I woke a few times, only for food and water to be pushed in front of me.
A rather growly demon forced me to eat soup—which I hate—but then let me sleep after.
And sleep I did. It was the type of dreamless sleep that makes you disoriented when you finally awaken from it.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but when I open my eyes this time, moonlight filters through the black curtains.
The window is cracked, but instead of the usual sounds of night critters, all I hear is the crackling of the fire.
It’s eerie. Like the entire kingdom is in a great slumber alongside me.
My body still aches, but it’s no longer debilitating like it was before. I manage to awkwardly push myself into a sitting position, my back against the headboard. Despite the fire and mounds of woolen blankets, I still find myself cold. Shivering, I tug the blankets up to my shoulders.
“Need another one?”
I scream. My body jerks, and my head hits the headboard with a loud thud. “Fuck,” I groan and fiercely rub the back of my head.
Soft laughter greets me, caressing my senses like a silky touch. I know that damn laugh.
When I turn my head slightly, Oziel’s stupidly handsome face greets me. He’s smirking because of course he is. Despite his teasing smile, there are dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes are unkempt. He’s usually put together, but now he looks disgruntled and tired.
“Do you make it your job to scare me?” I frown.
“Scare you? Miss Sinclair, it’s not my fault you don’t check your surroundings when you wake up. It’s not as if I hid in the shadows, waiting for you to wake.”
The way he says it has me thinking that’s exactly what he did. “How long have you been here?”
“Hmm, let’s see. I was born here centuries ago—”
“No, you prick.” Did he say centuries? Fucking centuries?! How old is this man, and why does he barely look a day over thirty? This is definitely a problem for later. Damn demons and their damn sexy features. “I mean how long have you been in my room?”
“Ah, that,” he hums, eyes darkening. “You’ve been asleep for three days.”
I wait for Oziel to continue, but the man has a knack for pissing me off with his nonanswer answers. It’s like he gets a thrill from upsetting me. Perhaps he does and has some weird anger kink.
Nope, not thinking about kinks in relation to Oziel. Don’t need to go down that road, no matter how hot it may be.
“Have you been here the entire time?” At my question, he meets my gaze. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes give away his answer. “You have. Why?”
“The queen was hurt. I needed to make sure you didn’t die.” Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “The deal I made with Ender would be for naught.”
“So, you stayed here for three days to make sure your contract wasn’t voided?”
“Yes, Miss Sinclair. I stayed here for three days to make sure the contract wasn’t voided.
What other reason would there be?” Oziel speaks nonchalantly, as if we were commenting on the weather and not my mortality.
I know a liar when I see one, though. I’ve been lied to too many times not to detect when someone is being disingenuous.
Good liars can mask their face into a blank canvas.
Great liars never make you question or doubt them.
But no liar can hide the truth in their eyes.
Oziel was scared. For me.
A weird, foreign feeling stirs low in my belly. Before I can analyze it any further, Oziel leans forward. “What happened, Isabelle?”
Hearing my name on his lips momentarily stuns me. Since I’ve arrived, it’s been Miss Sinclair or Kitten, but never Isabelle. I pretend like I don’t like the sound of my name on his lips.
“I saw something…” My mind desperately tries conjuring up the memories the Nephilim shared with me. “It was like I was thrown into the middle of a great battle. I could smell the blood and rot of death. I heard screams of the dying. It was…” I shiver. “It felt so real, like I was really there.”
To my surprise, he reaches out and takes my hand. It provides an odd sense of comfort. “It was real. Just not your reality. Go on.”
I look down at our clasped hands, remembering the woman in the Nephilim’s vision.
“There was a woman. She looked human, but her coloring was different, and she had wings. She was crying, begging for someone to stop. I felt her pain, Oziel. Felt her utter devastation. Whoever she was begging to stop turned their back on her. That’s when I felt the pain of betrayal, like a sword stabbing through my heart, and then… nothing.”
I half expect Oziel to tell me I’m crazy. That I dreamed all this up. But he doesn’t. His brow furrows, and he squeezes my hand. “Did you see the person she was speaking to? Anything you can tell me about them?”
“Not really,” I admit, mentally kicking myself for not trying harder to see who it was. “I think it was a male? Though I could be mistaken. This person had wings too, but that’s all I remember because his back was turned toward me. I don’t think that helps much.”
“On the contrary, Miss Sinclair, that helps a great deal.” Oziel lets go of my hand and sits back in his chair.
I instantly miss the warmth of his hand in mine.
My husband drums his fingers against the armrest of his chair, deep in concentration.
“A great deal, indeed,” he murmurs more to himself than me, clearly lost in his own thoughts.
I want to ask him what he’s thinking, but the intense need to pee overtakes me.
It feels like my bladder is close to bursting, so I not-so-graciously roll out of bed.
“I’ll be back,” I say before half running, half walking to the restroom, clenching my entire body.
If Oziel says anything, I don’t hear as I shut the door behind me.
I manage to make it to the toilet without embarrassing myself.
Pulling down my pants is the first time I realize I’m no longer wearing my dress.
Someone changed me, and I feel my cheeks flame at the thought of Oziel changing my clothes.
It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked, thanks to the moment in the washroom, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with him seeing me naked while I’m unconscious.
Then again, it could have been another demon whom he called upon to heal me.
I’m going with that version.
Once I’m finished peeing a damn river, I flush and wash my hands.
I feel gross, hair matted to the back of my head, and there are still spots of dried blood on my face.
The shower is calling me, but I don’t think I have enough strength to bathe myself yet.
And there’s no way in hell I’m asking Oziel to help me.
My pride can only take so much. Showering will simply have to wait until I get more energy.
When I walk back into my room, Oziel is no longer alone. Two other unfamiliar demons strip my bed. A whimper leaves my lips since I had planned on crawling back into it.
Oziel hears me and beckons, “Come,” as he goes to a tall mural by the fire.
“Come where?” I ask, but my feet move on their own accord, gravitating toward him.
“My room.”
“Your room?” I echo, sounding more like a parrot than a person.
Oziel doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps forward and presses his palm to the mural.
A soft click echoes through the corridor, and the mural shifts, swinging open like a door on silent hinges.
A hidden passageway. I shouldn't be surprised.
In a place like this, secret doors probably outnumber the regular ones.
Oziel reaches back for me, and I allow him to take my hand, leading me through the passageway.
It’s dark and hard to see, but Oziel doesn’t appear to have the same problem.
He leads me blindly, and when he stops abruptly, I run into his back with a grunt.
He chuckles before another clicking noise sounds, and the other door swings open.
To another room. His room.
One similar to the one we just came from but slightly bigger. It’s decorated in the same dark woods and crimson sheets. Instead of a single window on the far side of the room, there are two doors, pushed wide open, that lead to a balcony.
“You will stay here now,” Oziel says.
“What was wrong with my old room?”
“It wasn’t mine.”
Oh. Part of me should be mad that Oziel assumes I will share a bed with him, but another part of me doesn’t care if I sleep with ten other people, as long as I have a bed to lie down in.
“Fine, but just so you know, I will push you off the bed if you snore.” I make my way to his bed. I don’t know how it’s possible, but Oziel’s bed is even softer than mine. I slide easily into it, and if I died right here, right now…I think I’d be okay with that. Serenity washes over me.
Until Oziel speaks: “You snore.”
I spring up, insulted. “I do not snore!”
“You do. It’s cute though.” He beams at my expense, and my cheeks redden at the thought of him thinking my snores are cute. “You even talk in your sleep.”
Now that, I can believe. My sister always complained about me talking in my sleep when we shared a room as kids. I used to be so embarrassed by it, but it’s not like I can do anything to change it. My mind, even in sleep, never truly quiets.
“What did I say?” In the past, it has mostly been nonsensical words. Or sometimes I ask for random things, at least according to my sister and parents.
“Names.” Oziel stalks from his side of the room over to the bed. He perches on the end, near my feet. His next words feel like I’m being doused with cold water. “Three names actually: Anna, Erin, and James.”
My heart nearly stops. I’m not even sure if I breathe.
“Isabelle?” Oziel says my name with concern I’m not accustomed to hearing from him. I meet his gaze, his intense stare boring into me. Into my soul.
I should expect his next question, but it still takes me by surprise.
“Isabelle,” he says again. “Why do you want to speak with Erin?”