I stare at her. “You really think Syrus would allow that?”
“Let me worry about him,” Asterim says, waving her hand as if the incredibly powerful Lord of Malice is no more than an annoying fly she can easily shoo away.
I want to laugh again at the idea of taking an indentured servant out for a night on the town, yet Asterim makes it sound not only possible but a little appealing too. I’ve spent so long listening to her talk about how great the nightlife is in Malice, I kind of want to see it with my own two eyes.
And there’s a little part of me that still wonders about the rifts in the city. I know there’s nopermanentrift from Infernum to Strata, but it’s possible there’s a few that get opened semi-regularly. It could be useful knowledge for the future.
“I suppose Icouldcome with you,” I say.
She smiles and claps her hands together. “Wonderful. I knew you’d turn out to be fun eventually.”
Is it really any wonder why I haven’t been a barrel of laughs before now? I don’t say anything out loud though, because Asterim is the closest thing I have to a friend in this place, aside from Triya, who I’m pretty sure only likes me for my bed.
Asterim jumps up from the futon. “I’ll bring you something to wear.” She fingers the fabric of my shirt. “These things are fine to mope about the castle in, but if you’re going to fit in, you’ll need to look the part.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I say.
“What’s that, darling?” she asks, staring at my waist like she’s already mentally styling me.
“I’ll need more than new clothes to fit in. I’m obviously human, and last time I checked, there aren’t many of us hanging around Malice.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. People will just assume you’re a snare that’s been drinking from the lake,” she says.
“Is that how demons disguise themselves?”
“Disguisefeels like a dirty way to put it,” Asterim says, wrinkling her nose. “What you mean is: Is that how we get around Pax without humans panicking the moment they lay eyes on us because they think an Infernum monster has got loose? And to that question, the answer is yes.”
I see her point, but that doesn’t change the fact that demons use it to trick humans. It’s part of what makes the idea of them so frightening, that at any moment you could be standing next to a demon in a tavern or pass one on the street, and there’s no way for you to know. It would be much harder for snares to get people to trust them if their demonic nature was written all over their face.
“So you drink from the lake, and just like that, you look human?” I ask, wondering how it works. I guess the essence of the human souls in the water has something to do with it.
“Well, it depends on howinhuman you look in the first place,” she says. “And the effects are only temporary, but if your magic is naturally strong, that helps things along. You get a little more control over things then.”
It hits me then that there’s one demon around here who looks almost completely human. Is Syrus drinking from the Morphos? And if yes, what does he really look like? Why would he hide his true form?
I consider asking Asterim, but she’s always cagey talking about him, and I don’t want her to change her mind about tonight.
I’m not sure where she finds the dress she brings me later, because she’s far too small for it to be one of hers. Still, it’s pretty tight—which she insists is the point—and she’s very excited about the green color, claiming it will match my eyes. I dutifully put it on and am relieved when she tells me we’re going to take a carriage down to the city. I’ve decided I don’t like flying very much.
We’re just passing the mirror by the castle entrance when Syrus appears at the end of the hall.
The Lord of Malice stops when he sees us, lips parting in surprise as he takes in what I’m wearing. I barely thought about the dress when I put it on—it’s not as if I’m going to run into anyone in Malice who knows me—but under his eyes, I feel exposed in it, conscious of the way the neckline scoops low, showing off my collarbone and the curve of my breasts. I tug my loose hair forward so the red waves spill over my chest, covering some of the bare skin.
Syrus’s jaw clenches, and his hands ball into fists at his sides. He drags his gaze from me to Asterim. “Where are you taking her?”
I’ve gotten to know his voice far too well over the last month, so I can’t help but notice the unusual roughness in it now. He must be really pissed off, and I turn to Asterim, my throat tight with panic.
“I thought you got his permission for this?”
Except now I think about it, she didn’t actually say she had. I take a step back, staring at the red flaring in Syrus’s eyes. He has to know this wasn’t my idea.
“I’m taking her into the city for a night of fun,” Asterim says firmly. “You can’t keep her cooped up here for weeks on end. She’ll lose the will to live.”
“No she won’t,” he says. “She’ll survive.” There’s an odd certainty in his tone that makes it sound like he’s saying more.She won’t, because that’s not who she is.
“Maybe,” Asterim says. “But it’s not like it’ll do any harm for her to have a night out, and I want company, sincesomeonewon’t ever come out with me,” she says, giving him a pointed stare.
“She’s not some doll for you to dress up, Aster,” he snaps.
