“Yes,” the small thing grated out before taking a deep swig. “Mighty satisfied, Master Ajax.”
“Warden,” he corrected.
“Yes, yes.” He waved him off with a stone hand as he ambled back into the living area. He paused when he reached the door. “Rematch at sixteen hundred?”
“I already promised my afternoon to Az. But I’ll happily win your stones tomorrow.”
The gargoyle grunted. “Sixteen hundred tomorrow, then.”
“Gambling’s bad for you,” the Warden warned.
“Only when I lose,” Sir Davis replied.
Then he disappeared into a cloud of dust.
My lips parted. “Did he just… die?”
The Warden—Ajax—snorted. “No. Gargoyles often leave stone rubble in their wake.” He opened the fridge, his lips pinching upon finding it empty. “Hmm.”
He ran his fingers over the shelves, his lips moving with soundless words to create an array of foods. There were fresh fruits, vegetables, deli meats, and a variety of other items that made my mouth water with hunger.
“Consider it a consolation prize for being the most difficult captive to catch,” he said, shutting the door once more. “You’ll likely be everyone’s number one target as a result. You can eat in your chambers instead of risking the cafeteria.”
“What? Why?”
“Well, the whole point of the bride trials is to survive, and you’ve proved to be better at that than everyone else. Half the candidates just saw me giving you a private tour, too. Something I did not provide for any of them.” His fingers fluttered over the kitchen nook table, causing a series of books and documents to appear. “Read. Learn. Study. The trials begin in three days. Then it’s every woman for herself.”
He started toward the door without another word.
“Wait, hold on,” I called to him. “What about the deal? I want to see what my parents agreed to.”
He paused and looked around. Then he disappeared down a short hallway to a bedroom at the end. I paused on the threshold to find him doing something to my blankets. “What are you—”
“Here,” he said, turning to hand me a note as a silky purple comforter unfurled across the mattress. Two pillows appeared in his wake, followed by a flourish of magic from his wand toward the adjoining bathroom. “Don’t share your comforts. The others are already jealous enough.”
“What do you—”
“Goodbye, Ms. De la Croix,” he interjected. “I’d say to enjoy your stay, but I know you won’t. Not even with myimprovements.”
Violet smoke filled the air in the next instant, his body vanishing into the cloud of it and leaving a lingering scent of pine needles behind.
I blinked at his disappearance, then the weight of the item in my hand captured my attention.
As did the name etched across the paper.
Myname.
In my father’s messy script.
CHAPTERFOUR
CAMI
Son of a bitch.
My parents had sold me to the devil to absolve my father of all debts owed to the Hell Fae King. Not financial debts, butsouldebts. The kind created as a result of my dad being a damn fae connected to the Hell Fae Source.
Lucifer provided power and protection for a price.
