Chapter Eighteen
Even in the dining hall, with Apollo cooking in the next room over, the manor was a dangerous place. It had been less than a day since Mara’s attack. In her wake, my afterlife once again turned upside down, and things were taking a turn for the worse.
I hadn’t slept last night. Though rest wasn’t necessary in Hell, insomnia still siphoned strength from my muscles and set weakness in my bones. My mind was just as tired as my body. Stringing words into sentences took great effort, as if I had to reach into the abyss and fish out every syllable.
And then there was the gash on my chest. I’d stopped the bleeding, but the wound still gaped, presenting an opportunity for infection—for annihilation—to creep in. Beneath my shirt, it was invisible, but its dull, ceaseless ache persisted.
Anxieties circled deep in the recesses of my mind. Fears for Sitri and his safety, the desire to escape these demons who would butcher me if he hadn’t ordered my protection.
He’d told me I would know if something happened to him. I only hoped that was the case, and it hadn’t been another of the Prince’s lies.
“Food’s ready. Come and get it!”
Apollo appeared in the kitchen doorway, and I jumped.
I couldn’t help it. The sad smile he donned wracked me with guilt.
He insisted on escorting me around and serving me meals.
He even tried to offer me his company. I didn’t want it.
Apollo wasn’t a threat, at least not yet, though I still had a hard time trusting him.
He might be sympathetic, but his loyalties lay with Sitri, not with me.
“Thank you,” I muttered, the words hollow on my lips.
I rose on shaky feet and followed Apollo into the kitchen, where he’d taken our food off the wood-burning stove—a pot of oily stew, made with mushrooms and a generous portion of meat.
The vapor that emanated from it filled the room with a rich, sweet aroma.
Still on autopilot, I served myself and returned to my seat.
Once he’d collected his own food, Apollo claimed the chair beside me.
His bowl practically overflowed while I’d only filled mine halfway.
Eating so close to the demon was strange.
When Sitri was here, he’d enforced strict seating, observed by his legates, even when he skipped meals.
Seating that kept me well away from Mara and Apollo at the dining table.
I had a new understanding of Sitri’s eternal plight, having seen how quickly chaos bloomed in his absence.
He was a Prince with nothing and nobody to trust. Any of the demons he brought to power would slit his throat and steal his kingdom—save for Apollo, perhaps—and in the middle of the violence was a helpless, fragile human with an unknown expiration date.
A human Sitri had sacrificed and gambled to protect; one he’d kept secrets from, lied to, and betrayed.
“Not hungry tonight?” Apollo asked.
When I looked up, I noticed his crimson eyes trained on my spoon. I stirred my stew absentmindedly. Not a single bite had made it past my lips.
“Not really,” I admitted.
Apollo sighed, resting his own spoon against the rim of his half-emptied bowl. “You’ve got to nurture your soul. The less strength you have, the more danger you’re in.”
“I know.”
The demon continued to talk at me, but I didn’t bother listening. My mind strayed elsewhere, to sounds coming from behind the hallway door, so faint that at first, I worried I’d imagined them. As the footsteps and voices drew closer, my stomach twisted.
They were real.
The door to the dining room opened, and Bronwen swept inside, still dressed in black leather armor. She nodded to Apollo, ignoring me completely. Hot on her heels was the demon I’d feared for. The demon I wanted most to see, but didn’t know how to confront.
Sitri.
He entered with a scowl, but as soon as he caught sight of me, it faded to a faint smile.
I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. As if to spite me, the Prince settled in at my right side.
Bronwen seated herself next to him. The proximity between them seized my chest with a tightness I couldn’t rationalize.
“Something wrong, darling?” Sitri posed the question in a low voice, stirring emotions I wanted to suppress. It took all my willpower to shut them out.
“I’m fine, honestly. Just… a little tired.”
Sitri furrowed his brow, and his restless fingers rapped against the table.
I forced myself to take a sip of stew. Despite Apollo’s best efforts, the sweet, oily broth nearly made me gag.
I saw no point in finishing it. I had a sinking suspicion that even if I ate, it wouldn’t do me much good in the coming days.
The demons on either side of me leaned forward, exchanging a series of glances as I abandoned my spoon. Apollo mouthed the word ‘Mara,’ which seemed to be enough of an answer for the Prince. I wasn’t about to let him interrogate me. I left my bowl where it lay and stood.
“Thank you for the meal, Apollo.”
I turned to leave, my gaze lingering a moment too long on Sitri’s face. What I saw there nearly broke me; clenched teeth, eyes wild with frustration, and that familiar, hurt-like expression. As I passed him, he sprang from his chair and knocked it to the ground. He moved to follow.
“Hey, Lillia! Just where do you think you’re going?”
“To my room,” I called behind me, then shuffled through the still-open door.
The shadows stagnating in the hallway were a timely reminder that the Prince’s mansion had darkened in his absence.
Sitri burst from the kitchen. I stole a glance at him over my shoulder.
His muscles grew tight. The smile he’d spawned at the sight of me vanished, and between heavy breaths, his lips parted to show his teeth.
Jagged, sharpened fangs—the same kind he wanted to impart on me.
My heart lurched. With what emotion, I wasn’t sure.
“What happened?” he asked. “Are you alright?”
“No, I’m not alright. A certain demoness tried to butcher me. If it weren’t for Apollo, I wouldn’t be here. You knew she was dangerous, didn’t you?”
Sitri’s eyes widened, and the tension drained from his body.
He looked me over, top to bottom, brow wrinkling at whatever he saw.
The Prince took a few steps forward. He laid one hand on my shoulder, and I froze.
His gentle touch brought comfort I didn’t want to pull away from, but refused to lean into.
His contact, once so threatening, felt almost affectionate.
Almost.
“Never once in a hundred years did I think she’d try anything like that. If I had, I never would have left you here with her.”
“Whether you expected it or not, it happened.” I shrugged off his hand and turned to face him. “If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else. You still ran off with that scarlet-haired witch, abandoned me in a house of mutinous demons, and forced me to fend for myself!”
Sitri blinked once, twice, and then his lips pulled back in a snarl. It was a sure sign I’d caught him in a lie.
“I tasked Apollo with keeping you safe in my stead, and it looks like he did his job.” His voice rose with every word he spoke.
“There was no one left to go in my place. Apollo and Mara worked together to keep all of Lantyca operational. Draven lies in the gorge. There is no other I could trust not to strike when my back is turned.”
I scoffed. “Besides Bronwen?”
“Besides the emissary sent to collect me? Yes. Check her bindings, if you care to risk your soul. She belongs to President Haagenti. Not to me. Even if she tried to assassinate me, her owner would come for her, just as surely as yours comes for you.”
“Haagenti?” I echoed.
I’d heard that name before, on Bronwen’s lips. It was enough to pull me back to reality. I took a step away from Sitri, who kept his cool, but only barely.
“She is a President of Hell who rules alchemical demons and aids me in this war. If you could hold your own, perhaps I would have brought you along to meet her, but you refuse to let your weakness go.”
The bitterness in Sitri’s words made me flinch. “I thought you said becoming a demon was my choice.”
“It is your choice, Lillia.”
“Had you ever planned to tell me that my days in Hell are numbered?”
He growled, low and savage. “Would you rather I use your mortality to extort you, to control you, to bind you before you’re ready?”
“I’d rather you stopped keeping me in the dark so I can make an informed decision.”
“Not a soul in Hell knows what will happen to you. If you are at risk of fading, these little outbursts are going to hasten your demise. Did you want me to tell you, knowing full well you cannot control yourself? That this would be the outcome?”
“All I want is to be treated like a person, not a helpless child, or a tool for you to use!”
The words came as a shout, even though I hadn’t intended for them to.
Silence fell over the hallway. Sitri’s face softened.
Something inside me crumbled, too; the breaking of the wall I used to cage my feelings.
There was no way to know how long I had left, and I didn’t want to spend my last days on the fringes of this world, fighting for a scrap of acknowledgment in a place I couldn’t quite call home.
He’d kept me at arm’s length for a month. I was getting sick of it.
“You’re right, Lillia. You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
“I can’t trust you.” My voice faded to a whisper. “You’re lying to me. You’re keeping secrets from me, Sitri.”
“I am, and to some extent, I must. You know who and what I am. You should also know that not a day goes by where I don’t curse the monster I’ve become. Do you believe me when I tell you this, even after what I’ve said and done?”
“I…”
The words wouldn’t come.
I didn’t know whether to believe him. Was I willing to take that risk?
The Prince shook his head, throat trembling. “What I say now is the truth, no matter how it hurts. No more, darling. I won’t be your puppeteer any longer.”
Then he did something I hadn’t quite expected.
Sitri closed the distance between us. He embraced me, pulled me against him, bathed me in his warmth and his smoky, sandalwood scent.
Pain lanced through my chest from where he crushed my wound against his body.
I didn’t care. His attention always felt this way—gentle, coercive, decadent, agonizing—even so, I couldn’t get enough.
I drew a shuddering breath, wanting to return the gesture, unable to force myself.
In holding him, I’d be admitting a truth I wanted to keep concealed, giving him another tool to control me.
My body wouldn’t allow that. Instead, I closed my eyes, basking in him, hoping to ward off the tears already gathering.
There was nothing I could do, nothing left to say.
It was so unlike Sitri to offer me comfort unless it furthered his own ends, but this?
This felt real.
As quickly as the moment came, it ended.
Sitri released me and stepped back. In his wake, he left me aching, longing for what I’d never have.
I wanted to believe him, to trust that he’d keep his word, to let him in, no matter the cost. He looked so fragile, his face twisted and his powerful facade stripped away.
Did he really mean what he said, or had he conjured an illusion to lure me into complacency, so attractive that, in another world, I might have followed him to my demise?
My heart yearned for what would never be—a life here in this mansion, in a time after the war, when Vapula was only a distant memory. Kind words. Gentle touches. A place where no secrets needed to be kept, filled with comfort and love.
A home I got to choose.
A home that had never existed, and likely never would.
“If you wanted to tell me, you should have,” I said.
Sitri winced. His reaction hit me like a punch to the gut.
“I should have. I hope that one day I might earn your forgiveness.”
“I hope so, too, and I wish you luck—it won’t be easy, Sitri.” All I managed was a weak, forced smile.
I turned around and started down the hallway. The Prince didn’t follow. Part of me wished he had, but deep down, I believed this was for the best. The demons seated in the dining room must have heard the commotion. He would have to face them alone.
Sitri returned to the table, and I returned to my bedroom.
By the time I made my way there, my adrenaline and anger had dissipated, leaving exhaustion in their wake.
I locked the door behind me, lit the lantern on the desk, and threw myself down on the bed.
I wanted to cry out my feelings, to shed them, so I might finally be rid of them, but I had no strength left for that.
I tried to force myself to rest, hoping sleep would come.
It didn’t.
I lay there motionless for hours. There was no telling how many.
When I opened my eyes again, my lantern still burned.
All was quiet. I studied each fold of my blankets, of the sheets, of the long, flickering shadows they cast. As I followed the crease of the comforter, I saw it, just beneath the rim.
Small, dark, glinting like a gemstone. The thing was beautiful. Its bone-like shape and sparkling onyx hue transfixed me. I reached for it, but when I moved, the gem moved with it.
My heart raced as I realized what it was.
I rolled over onto my back. Held my hand up to the light, my throat tightening as the nightmare I beheld stole away my breath and drained the blood from my face.
The tips of my fingers had dissolved into thin air. All that remained was my skeleton, black as night, strung together by an invisible force.
I opened my mouth, and then I broke the silence of the mansion with my scream.