“I’m laughing on the inside,” I say flatly, studying the room as I step further inside. He can taunt me all he wants, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to let my guard down.
“What’s through there?” I say, pointing to a smaller door in the corner.
“A washroom. You know, for bathing? Or do mire rats not clean themselves?” the demon asks, his eyes glinting in their deep sockets.
It’s clear he doesn’t like me. It feels like there’s more to it than just thinking this task is beneath him. Whatever it is, I’d rather not linger in close proximity with him alone. When he dug into his pockets earlier, he shifted his coat, and I saw a slim sword strapped to his hip. I’ve seen blades like that too many times, shedding shadows that tear ephilium apart. I won’t forget what this man is—what all of them are—just because they’re capable of holding a conversation.
I move toward the window. The light in Infernum is different, more purple than yellow, and it streams through the glass, warming my face as I look up into the sunless sky.
“I think that’s all I need, thank you,” I say, managing to sound almost polite. The demon’s jaw clicks again, but he shrugs. For a moment, I think he’s going to say something else, but then he leaves without another word, closing the door behind him.
I hold my breath, releasing it in disappointment when I hear the slide and thud of a bolt.
I don’t know where that blind streak of optimism came from thinking they might not lock me in, but I shake it off. From here on out, hope and prayers aren’t going to get me anywhere. I can only rely on myself.
And right now, that self desperately wants this blood off her.
Chapter 9
Syrus
“Of all the humans you could’ve dragged back from the Mire…”
“Careful now, Viz,” I say, setting down the letter I’ve been scanning as my chamberlain rustles through papers on the other side of my desk. “I might get the idea you disapprove of my choices.”
He throws me a glower. He and I both know that disapproving of my choices would be his full-time job if I hadn’t already saddled him with one.
“She’s totally unsuitable,” he says as he lines up two pieces of paper side by side, studying them. My office is as much his as it is mine. It’s why I let him keep it in the disarray he does. As long as he always knows which city ordinance we should be consulting or has the latest reports from the border, I’ll happily submit to his chaos. Me paying an ounce of attention to his long list of complaints, however, is less of a guarantee.
“I doubt you could tell that just by looking at her,” I say.
“Do you know what Liege Damein means here?” Vizmodeus turns a piece of paper toward me and taps a mysterious line.
I briefly look it over. “‘The mere adder in the long grass’? They’re talking about Vyle’s northern river.”
Viz scrunches up his face. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say with a smirk. “But don’t be too hard on yourself for not figuring that out. Liege Damein always talks in riddles.”
“That’s what happens when you’re pushing six hundred—your brain starts to melt. It’s a known medical fact.” He snatches the paper back. “And the human’s appearance has nothing to do with it—even if Icouldget a good look at her when she was covered in all that blood,” he says, giving me a reproachful tilt of his head. He thinks I was excessive on that front. But I have no regrets. Not when I’m so rarely let out to play.
“She’s a scavenger, Syrus,” Viz says.
I make a dismissive snort. “I doubt that. Did you hear her accent? That’s a rich man’s daughter if ever I heard one.”
“She told me herself.”
“Did it ever occur to you she could have been lying?” It’s my automatic response, but when I pause to think about it, I remember her request for gold. A woman with a moneyed family wouldn’t have gambled her life to make that bargain. Most poor women wouldn’t either, but that’s beside the point.
“Yes, she could’ve lied,” Viz argues. “But if she has even a shred of intelligence, she would realize that lie won’t win her any favors here. Which means you’ve gotten yourself bound to one of those parasites that picks over corpses left on the battlefield.”
I fold up the letter I was reading and set it down, giving Viz a warning glare. A few hours ago, I was in one of my elusive good moods. I felt I’d actually achieved something, and now he’s doing his utmost to puncture that pride with his pointed, bony fingers.
“The Concord council got my response, by the way,” I say, changing the subject.
“And?” Viz asks, eyes flicking down to the letter.
“And they politely agreed to my proposal that I do whatever I damn well please in my own domain while they go hang themselves.” I smile grimly.
