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It’s not until I step through the arched doorway that I see what he’s glowering at. A young boy with messy blonde hair stands near the far wall, except every inch of him is covered in a blue sheen, glowing as if he’s translucent.
A ghost.
“I wasn’t aware the place was haunted,” I say, moving closer to take a seat at the table across from Griffin, blocking his view of the lad.
“It is now.” He snorts, dropping the fork on the table with a clang.
Ghosts aren’t an uncommon occurrence in the Seven Realms. In fact, we have a holiday that honors those who are stuck on our plane of existence in the elven islands. It’s dedicated to helping them find their peace so they can move on to what comes next.
I glance at the ghost boy. If it weren’t for that ghoulish glow, I’d think he was a guest, ready to join us at this table,alivethough every piece of me knows he’s not. It’s a good thing, though. It means his spirit is whole, and not so far gone that he could reach between planes of existence and cause harm.
Most spirits, like the boy, can’t interact with our world, and simply exist in the space between. However, those who don’t return to the Soul Well go mad eventually and tear their moral compass to shreds. Poltergeists, I believe, is the proper term—vengeful spirits, void of the ability to tell right from wrong. And as a result, they feel with such raw, unchecked emotion, that they can reach through the planes of life and death and do unspeakable things.
It’s why we have our holiday, to prevent such creatures from ever existing.
This boy isn’t a threat yet, but it doesn’t mean I like the idea of spirits lurking around the keep. Griffin must be on the same page since he’s still shooting disgruntled looks over my shoulder, as if he’s silently willing the boy to disappear.
Skimming my fingers over the intricately carved edge of the long table, the wood is cool to the touch, almost as frigid as the air in this room. My breath mists, Griffin’s too, and icy lines seem to creep up the pillar candles flickering along the center of the table. The empty plates in front of us transform, and in an instant, they’re brimming with food.
I’m not familiar with the kind, but I know it’s meat of some sort, with veggies and fresh bread. Whatever it is, it smells delicious and my nostrils inflate as the scents of garlic and rosemary flood through my senses.
Beside me, there’s a third place setting at the head of the table that matches ours, but Asmo is nowhere to be seen.He can’t still be leaned over those books, can he?I didn’t see them splayedout on the table in the foyer.Maybe he’s putting them away in the library?
An awkward silence fills the air, only made more so by the boy floating forward with hungry eyes. He bends over Griffin’s plate, and the fae goes statue still, blinking in rapid succession as the boy inhales deep, oohing and awing as if he can smell the food, too.
“Did he just…” I trail off, unable to form the words. I tilt my head to the side, feeling my ears twitch.
“Get—get back.”Griffin shoos him away with his fork, his frown deepening. “If you want to sniff food, go sniff that one—” he nods toward Asmo’s plate. “Keep your little greedy nostrils away from my steak.”
I have to resist the urge to laugh, resting my head on my joined hands, elbows propped to hide the smile that creeps over my lips. Griffin sighs deep, shaking his head as he cuts away a small chunk of meat, seemingly tired of waiting for Asmo to join us. Despite his impatience, and his attack on the ghost, his manners are impeccable. I suppose being raised to reign over a realm one day, like I have, will do that to him.
“Where the hell is Asmodeus?” His icy blue eyes pin me, as if I have something to do with the man’s absence. I don’t reply, just arch my brows in silent question. “Don’t do that. Surely you know where he is.”
I breathe out a sharp, “Hah,” adjusting the spacing between my silverware before lacing my hands together, without a single care given to my elbows being propped on the table. “When would I have had time to look after theLord of Chivalry?Hmm? If you’re forgetting yourself, he unceremoniously teleported me into a bathtub last I saw him.”
A smile cracks his stoney, beautiful face. “Right…” He lifts the goblet of wine in front of him to his lips, as if to hide it. The ghost boy’s hollow eyes track our every move as he continues sniffingAsmo’s plate. The sound is obnoxiously loud, but I do my best to ignore it.
“I suppose I have you to thank for the food?” I stare at the steak, looking at it down the bridge of my nose, wondering if it’s poisoned. Though, our deal should protect me. What would be the point of poisoning me ifSir High and Mightydied too? So,it must be safe, right?
“Unfortunately, no. As much as I’d love to hear your praise, the queen is responsible for that. Until Asmodeus can get a staff for the keep, to run the kitchen and such, she’s offered to send us meals. She’d never let Asmo or her favorite nephew starve. Gods bless her.” Griffin pops a bite into his mouth, chewing with the grace reserved for a king.
“She seems to beinvested.”I bounce my brows, then dig in myself. Letting the flavor of garlic veggies steal me a way for a moment. After scavenging for weeks, this is heaven on a plate.
“Is that jealousy I sense?” The excitement in Griffin’s voice cuts down to the bone.
“No. Curiosity. Asmo hasn’t told me much.”
Griffin nods, his brows lifting ever so slightly. I swear a purr comes from his chest as he eats, like the fae beast inside of him is pleased. “Well, let me put your mind at ease. There’s nothing there. The queen and Asmodeus are strictly friends. Though they’d go to war for each other if necessary.” He tips his glass, swirling the crimson liquid around. “I almost pity the person who comes between them. They’re both rather hot-headed when it comes to those they love.”
The boy lets out another long string of sniffles, then leans his head back as if he’s in pure bliss.
“Are you going to mention the ghost in the room? Or am I supposed to pretend he’s not there?”
“You can ask Asmodeus whenever he finally decides to grace us with his insufferable presence.”
“Glad to see you get along,” I say, taking another bite.
“He’s my current jailor, so I don’t have much of a choice.” Across from me, Griffin leans back in his chair, white hair glinting in the firelight. A sly grin spreads across his face. “Though, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious… What are you to him, anyway?”
