Chapter 26 Allies
Allies
When Elizabeth arrived back at the castle, her cloak and dress were both covered in muck and grime from the road.
Fiza clucked in disapproval upon seeing her and pointed to the bathing chamber. “Bath, immediately.”
Elizabeth chuckled and disrobed, slipping into warm, soapy water and sighing. Fiza washed her hair, massaging her scalp.
While Fiza massaged a few drops of oil into her hair, Elizabeth became mesmerized by the detail in the dragon spout.
It looked almost alive with scales and a slit pupil cut into the stone.
She traced a few of the scales with her fingertip, wondering if something was wrong with her for being intrigued by beautiful, but dangerous things.
Elizabeth was surprised to see there was another man at the table tonight—a portly man, wearing a suit. He looked human from afar, but if her experience was anything to go by, he probably wasn’t.
Caspian inclined his chin as she strode over to her seat. “We waited for you. I wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine from the Underworld.”
As the new demon fixed her with a look, she nearly recoiled. His eyes were silver flame.
“This is Mammond,” supplied Caspian.
“My apologies,” she said, dipping into a curtsey. “Time got away from me again. Mammond, nice to make your acquaintance.”
“So, this is your new pet?” Mammond drawled to Caspian, as if she were not present.
Caspian nodded.
“What happened to the old one?”
Caspian rolled his eyes, and Mammond burst out laughing. Whatever had happened to her had not been good.
Revolted, she finished her meal in silence.
She sought out Iago after dinner.
His small, furred body was easy to spot near the entryway to the castle, and he looked questioningly up at her.
“Iago, I have a question.” She paused, considering her next words carefully. “You told me not to go into the ballroom…”
Iago began to fidget.
“And I haven’t.”
Iago relaxed, his small wings slumping in relief.
“But why are we not allowed to go in there?”
Iago’s gaze darted around the hall. “I have been forbidden to speak of it.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, a bit crestfallen. “No worries, then.”
Back in her chambers, she pulled out the rock and set it on the writing desk.
She focused on her breathing and looked within herself, to the well of peridot fire. She focused on the stone, visualizing it floating.
She closed her eyes and unwound a thread of the fire, imagining it extending outwards from her, reaching and scooping up the stone, cradling it and pushing it skywards. Her lower back grew sweaty with the effort, and her outstretched hand trembled in her focus.
She opened her eyes. To her surprise, there was a faint, flickering line of green fire extending from her palm towards the stone.
“Váless,” she whispered.
The stone rocked back and forth on the table, like a bird struggling to fly.
Once more, she found the well inside herself and laboured to find a thread she could pull outwards. She failed several times.
Each time she tried to pull a thread from the well, it would snap back like an elastic band. She focused harder and ended up with a fluttering thread of peridot fire. After several attempts, she was able to surround the stone with her green fire and lifted it skywards.
The stone slowly, sluggishly, rose from the table up to her eye level.
It worked.
The stone levitated a foot in the air, spinning in place. She blinked, and the stone dropped, clattering across the table.
Elated, she whooped, then promptly covered her mouth.
She had magic.
Her energy suddenly flagged. She had just eaten, but her stomach grumbled.
Debating if it would seem suspicious to beg for more food from the kitchens, she rummaged through her bags for nuts and any leftover bread she had taken with her on her rides.
She devoured fistfuls of nuts like a starving person.
After she was sated, she grinned wickedly.
The angel had given her magic.
Elizabeth paced, considering the implications of what she had just discovered.
She tried to sit still, tried to open a book, but she was filled with restless energy and decided to wander the castle to stretch her limbs.
She passed the ballroom doors and was seized with a burning curiosity about it.
Did the abandoned ballroom have something to do with the women in the cellars?
Some ritual through which they’d met their end?
Or something else entirely? The castle was brimming with secrets, and she found herself hungry for answers.
And Iago’s refusal to tell her about the ballroom had only intrigued her further.
Struck by a sudden thought, she grinned. There was someone she knew with looser lips than Iago.
Suddenly, she heard voices down the hall and quickly hid behind a pillar. She strained her ears to hear what was being said.
“Shall we, then?” Caspian asked in a cold voice.
“Certainly.” Mammond’s voice was honey-sweet.
“Happy hunting,” Caspian replied.
“Happy hunting,” Mammond agreed.
She heard the castle doors open and shut. Peering out the window, she watched two cloaked figures make their way into the creeping fog.
She found Asmodeus lounging in the sitting room. He was sprawled on a sofa with his enormous wings spread out behind him, taking up nearly the whole sofa.
Elizabeth tried to embody Charlotte, who would have feared no man, no matter how imposing, and flounced down on the opposite couch.
“Hello, Asmodeus.”
“Hello, little dove,” Asmodeus said, sounding bored. His black, demonic eyes were riveted on her, and she felt acutely aware of the small horns on his forehead and frightening wings. She took a deep breath and relaxed her posture, trying to appear unafraid.
“Why are you not with the other gentlemen, swapping stories about hunting deer and bedding women?” she said, keeping her voice cool and raising a brow.
“You know, I don’t think the males in this castle give you entirely enough credit.” He chuckled. “They are not out discussing things of that nature. That is for Caspian and me to discuss, in detail and at length, every other night of the year.”
She smiled her best soft and pretty smile, crinkling her eyes in a practiced, friendly expression, as if nothing interested her more than what Asmodeus had to say. She’d rehearsed this smile for hours until she could do it on command for court functions.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, sounding more relaxed and much more friendly. His guard was down. Perfect.
Asmodeus was drinking what appeared to be a goblet of blood with some sort of orange beaks floating in it.
“What are those?" she asked, unable to help herself.
“Underworld’s finest. Firebird beaks. Adds a nice little kick to my cocktail here.”
“Right. Cocktail.” She gave him a skeptical look.
“Lamb’s blood. Easy to come by. Tasty.” He saluted her with his beverage.
She put a hand to her chest.
“Lamb?” she asked weakly.
He laughed at the expression on her face. “Ha! Don’t tell me no one told you.”
She shook her head.
“Oh, that’s good.” He chortled. “No, it’s not your family and friends in these goblets. It would be nice, but we’d be hard-pressed to remain undetected if we did that all the time.”
She was glad someone found it funny. She had been terrified about the contents of those goblets since she had arrived.
“So, what can I do for you? Unless you’d like to be my dessert after the lamb?” He looked her up and down suggestively as he swirled his goblet. She had the distinct impression he was enjoying himself as a wide grin split his face.
She took a deep breath. “Have you ever been in the ballroom here?” He surveyed her with a raised brow. “No. No one goes in there.”
“And why not?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a story,” Asmodeus said, wiggling in his seat, clearly pleased to have her undivided attention. “A long time ago, Caspian was interested in a mortal girl.” He gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Obsessed with her, actually.”
“Oh?”
Asmodeus chuckled. “I know, I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me either.”
She hesitated. “What happened?”
Asmodeus gave an easy smile and launched into the tale. “He sought a girl from his village. Caspian was convinced since he had killed his enemies, he would now get the nice house and beautiful wife owed to him and would spend eternity in bliss.”
She frowned. A cozy life with a wife and a home did not fit with what she knew of Caspian at all.
“Yes, we thought he was a bit of a fool too,” Asmodeus said, nodding.
“Anyway. Apparently, when they were young, the beauty from his village told him she wanted to be with a wealthy man one day, who had an enormous manor complete with a hundred servants, and over fifty rooms, and expensive dresses, and … you guessed it. A ballroom fit for hosting kings and queens.”
Elizabeth leaned forward.
“Cas made it his mission to amass as much wealth as possible and build this place.” Asmodeus nodded at the high vaulted ceilings above them. “He returned to his village and sought her out. She refused him and said no matter what riches he had now, he was still the son of a poor farmer.”
Asmodeus shrugged, looking slightly baffled at the intensity with which she listened. “So, he came home and broke almost everything in that room and forbade any of us from touching it. Not much else to the story.”
Her lips parted in understanding. The ballroom must be a constant reminder that even if he had amassed riches to rival kings, he would never be of noble birth.
“If that’s all it is, how come Iago said he’s forbidden to speak of it?”
Asmodeus laughed. “Cas gets furious whenever the ballroom is mentioned. Breaks whatever he’s holding and is”—Asmodeus pursed his lips—“less than his usual cheerful self. Most servants have become terrified of bringing it up.”
“I just find it hard to believe he was in love before,” she said slowly, still unable to process that the cold and unfeeling demon she knew had been hopelessly besotted over a woman.