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I shrug. “Good riddance. He tried to hurt Alice.”
“And was being tried for it. Hell, he was already set for execution. Why not let him die on the block?”
Because I wanted to be the one to kill him. Because he tried to hurt someone I love and deserved it.
When I don’t answer aloud, Griffin sighs. “Tell me what you need. But just so you know, we’re even after this.”
“Fine. I need the blood grimoires Calliope used.”
Griffin’s face falls as he takes a step back, the blood draining from his face. “I’m not going back there.”
“You don’t need to. Just tell me where to find them.”
12
Valeria
Oh gods… I needa priest.
There's something wrong with me. Dangerously so if I'm dreaming about demons. Well, one demon in particular.
The hours have blended together and I’m not sure how long I’ve sequestered myself within these strange walls. Those odd floating symbols languidly spin around where I lay on the bed, anchored in place by my own mind.
I haven’t dared to leave the room. Not even when I heard the sharp click of Asmo’s door, or when I heard the sound of his boots gliding down the stairs, both of which made my heart beat as fast as it had in my dream. A dream where he had a starring role.
I barely know the man, yet I’ve already dreamt of the ways he could defile me.
Voices carry through the ancient stone walls and my stomach grumbles, rattling my ribs as I stare at that glass dome above my bed. If not for the berries I had stashed in my cloak, I might’ve starved in here, thanks to my self-imposed exile.
Sure, I know the kitchen is. Having lived here for weeks, I know every inch of this place, at least what it used to be. And even though the walls are prettier, the layout is still the same. It wouldn’t have been difficult for me to scavenge what I’m sure are plentiful cupboards for something to eat, but that would’ve meant leaving this room. It would’ve meant the possibility of coming face to face with Asmo and I’m not ready for that. Not after the dream I had.
There are pretty men in Vanderlyth. Elven men, with their ethereal grace and sharp, arresting features, have always embodied a beauty that seemed unmatched by any other creature I’ve laid eyes on. The only demons I know of are lords on the king’s court, but even then, I’ve never truly met them. I’ve seen them from a distance, dressed in the finest linens, but they pale in comparison to the elves.
At least they had…
The sight of Asmo covered in blood splatter, sword in hand, redefined my elvish definition of beauty entirely. It was savage and wild and something I never thought I’d witness. It’s something I should not want to witness again, yet that’s exactly how he appeared in my dream. He’d knocked on my bedroom door and smirked roguishly when I’d answered.
He houses enough power to snap me to pieces should he want to, and that should terrify me. All he’d have to do is mumble a word, and I’d be nothing more than a riddled pile of discarded bones, and what could I do to stop it? Become invisible? Because that worked so well last time.
But I wasn’t scared. I wasfascinated.Still am, in a way I’ve never been before.
He moves with graceful fluidity, commanding the very air around him. It’s almost a divine experience to be in the near vicinity of him and it makes me feel like I’ve completely lost my mind.
Now, every time I close my eyes, it’s not my dream of drowning I see, but one of him that resurfaces. My consciousness is consumed by that sight of him in the woods. It’s blissful torture and all too vivid, like I could reach out and touch his scar-ridden chest, feel the pulse of his heart beating against my fingertips.
I’m not sure I can face him in reality. Not after imagining those dark amber eyes staring up at me from between my legs. My body hums at the idea of those rough, ringed fingers sliding over my skin, of hearing my name rolling off his tongue… Clearly, I've been alone too long, or maybe there’s something about his magic that completely garbled all sense of my sanity, or perhaps I was just sleep deprived. No matter the reason, leaving this bedroom, seeing him after the things he did to me in my mind, sounds like damnation.
But I can’t stay hidden away up here forever. Asmo said we’d have company at dinner and judging by the noises circulating outside my door, that time is coming sooner rather than later.
The morning light filters through the gossamer curtains draping around the terrace doors and through the glass dome in the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room as I reluctantly rise from the bed. Giving my enchanted closet a go, I start with the basics, summoning a tunic that clings softly to my form, woven from the finest threads of silver and moonlight.
The neckline is open, revealing a bit more than I’m used to. The glossy fabric is intricately embroidered with patterns that speak of ancient magic, common symbols in the Elven Islands, specific to the original families and the blessings the furies and old gods gave us. It’s as if the closet knew of my heritage or sensed my tastes somehow.
Slipping on a pair of skin-tight pants, I tuck the dark fabric neatly beneath the knee-high boots I lace up my calves. It’s an elegant look, but not as formal as wearing a dress would be. Andseeing as I’ve yet to see Asmo wear a proper shirt without blood on it, I doubt anything more than this is necessary.
After a quick look in the mirror and a moment to comb my hair, I quietly leave the room. Overhead, the blues, silvers, and whites swirl over the map of the Seven Realms, casting everything in a gentle azure glow. No one is up on this floor from what I can see, but a quick glance down the open center of the stairwell reveals a man with striking, white hair that swishes gently over his shoulders with every jerk of his head. He wears a dark tunic, leather pants with half of his hair tied up into a knot on top of his head. As if sensing me, the knot moves and his chin tilts up toward where I’m gawking over the banister.
The man double takes, catching me spying and his lips stretch into a toothy, up to no good grin. Crystal blue eyes, so vivid I can see the turquoise hue of them from two stories up, stare into mine and I jolt away from the rail.
