Chapter Forty
CHAPTER
FORTY
Ilaria feared the darkness as a child.
Darkness meant danger. It meant demons slipping through cracks of their defenses and drawing lines of blood from the throats of her people.
Her earliest memories of the castle involved a lantern swinging in her small hands, its flames flickering as she crept through the corridors, certain that some foul beast was waiting for her at every turn.
She’d counted the tiles as she walked just to keep her mind occupied, whispering prayers with every third step.
It wasn’t until she was older that she realized her own people had become the very same sort of monster she’d feared.
The knights ventured into the woods with their steel and their vengeance, hunting down and slaughtering every horde that wasn’t fortunate enough to be veiled by a glamour.
Did demons fear the daylight, as she had once feared the night? Were they afraid of walking with the sun on their skin, exposed for all the world to see?
It was a question that had long haunted her.
Her feelings about demons had never been simple. Even now, they tangled inside her, threadbare and contradictory. How could she have pity on a creature who’d taken so much from her people? And how could she forgive them, when they’d killed Orion?
All the same, she’d felt an unquenchable curiosity that sent her spiraling down a path of study. She’d started reading everything she could about demons. Old texts. Doctrine. Field accounts from long-dead knights. Orion’s journals.
She hadn’t known what she was looking for, but the more she read, the more obvious it became that something was missing. Gaps in their knowledge about the history between demons and the Divine.
The more knowledge she sought, the more resistance she met. Few velari were willing to converse with her about demonic history, and fewer still held answers to her questions.
Ilaria had come to despise the velari, who too often feared knowledge that didn’t suit their beliefs. It was an offense that they even called themselves scholars.
Eventually, she’d done what they’d all wanted and stopped asking questions. But that didn’t mean she’d ever stopped seeking answers.
Ilaria pressed her hand against the stone wall as she glided down the spiral steps, the cool air biting her skin. The passageway twisted like a serpent beneath the castle, but even without light, she had no difficulty navigating.
Technically, these tunnels were forbidden.
Yet Aurelie often made a point of using them to familiarize herself with the different paths, sometimes sneaking into Ilaria’s room to share a drink in the late evening.
She was the one who’d sparked Ilaria’s curiosity, though she doubted Aurelie had any idea how frequently the princess put them to use.
Aurelie was, after all, still a knight. She would frown upon anything that could have put Ilaria in danger.
And so she kept her secret, glad to have a way to escape the pressure of so many eyes always upon her. She usually escaped out into the gardens, but sometimes she ventured farther, slipping into a simple shawl and walking out into the market like any other girl to sample treats and browse wares.
But never had the streets been this heavily guarded.
Ilaria reached her usual exit and pressed her ear to the stone. It led into the stables, and when she heard nothing but the soft huffing and gentle stomps of horses, she slowly eased the door open. The smells hit her first—hay, earth, and the pungent odor of saddle oil.
Shadows pooled between the stalls, and the horses stirred as she passed, some lifting their heads in curious greeting.
A quick glance ahead warned that several knights waited outside, chatting among themselves.
Ilaria was glad to see one of them laugh softly.
Glad to see that, even in the darkest of times, people were still finding small moments of light.
She pressed against the wall and crept forward, slow and soundless. Between her dark cloak, black gown, and curtain of inky hair, she was nearly invisible in the low light. Still, she held her breath, letting herself become one with the night as it stole all sound from her steps.
Ilaria had always been quiet. She’d always known how to vanish when she needed to, and how to make her presence small. Orion had once teased her about it, claiming she’d make a wonderful assassin if ever she wanted a change. Ilaria had laughed then, but these days it felt truer than ever.
She passed the guards without notice, sorrow tugging at her as it always did whenever she thought of him.
She’d loved him, once. She was young and hardly knew what love was, but it was true. They’d been destined to marry from the day she was born, and she’d never once resented that.
It was impossible not to fall for Orion. He was strange and sweet and had this insatiable zest for life that she’d always admired. Without a doubt, he’d been one of the best people she’d ever known.
It was strange how time had a way of mending all things. Not healing, exactly, for his loss was a wound that would never be fully healed. But with enough time, the sting of his absence became softer. Dulled at the edges.
And now there was another who held her love.
It was funny how much time could change things.
Ilaria willed the night to conceal her as she moved swiftly through Rhovar and into the forest that surrounded it.
Gone was the quiet scuff of guards’ boots and hushed conversations. Even the wind had quieted as it watched her wander into the trees.
It was curious that she breathed easier here of all places, where she’d recently watched a body burn to cinders.
But there was someone who knew to find her here, and she needed to tell them all the things a letter could not convey. She just hoped they’d be here tonight.
And if she saw that hybrid …
Ilaria stuck close to the trees, ready to mask herself at a moment’s notice.
Perhaps she was a fool to have come. She had but a small knife with her.
It was more of a tool to help open letters, but it was all she had.
There was supposed to be more time to prepare, but with the wedding moved up, Ilaria had no choice but to come now.
She could only hope as she wandered deeper into the forest, the trees swallowing her whole, that the one she searched for would come tonight.
The demon watched as a mouse scurried through her forest.
The girl was a small, trembling thing, clutching dulled steel as if it could protect her. She held it steady, walking in the shadows with her chin high and her gaze fixed forward, trying very hard not to look afraid.
But darkness couldn’t protect her from a demon’s eye. It saw everything—the faint tremble at the corner of the girl’s mouth. The tightness that pinched between her brows.
The demon watched from her usual perch high in the trees just behind the glamour, lounging along a wide, curved branch that had long since molded to her body.
Meanwhile, the human wandered, entirely unaware she was being watched.
That was no surprise. No one ever saw the demon unless she wanted them to—that was just her nature.
But this girl was a pretty one, and the demon was a curious creature.
She watched the girl pause, waiting. Nervousness thrummed beneath the human’s skin, and pleasure curled through the demon’s chest like smoke.
She stretched along the branch, limbs unfolding like silk.
The shadows covering her form sloughed off her skin as she leaned past her glamour and dropped her chin to rest on folded arms.
“Who are you waiting for?” Lute whispered, a wicked gleam in the eyes that settled upon Ilaria. “Princess?”