Oh, andhehasn’t been using me as his plaything?
His eyes flick toward me and away again. He seems determined not to look at me too long, like he won’t be able to control his anger if he does.
“I won’t let you drag her along on one of your wild adventures,” he continues. “I’ve made myself clear on this.”
It has a finality to it that clearly riles Asterim, the petite demon putting a hand on her hip and striding up to him. I hold my breath, struck by thesize difference between them. He looks like he could crush her with one hand.
“I’mnottaking her on one of my adventures,” Asterim says, her voice powerful for someone so small. “We won’t be out all night, and we won’t be going anywhere dicey. I’m talking about a few hours in the most reputable dance hall in town so she doesn’t throw herself from the battlements in a fit of melancholy. I will show her a good time, and I will make surenothinghappens to her. HaveImademyselfclear?” she asks.
Syrus’s eyes narrow, and then, still refusing to look at me, he spins on his heel and walks away.
Asterim’s triumphant smile doesn’t dim all the way to the carriage waiting for us outside. Which is being pulled by kelaryn, the demons’ winged horses. So much for my hopes that I wouldn’t be flying anywhere this evening.
They do make the journey go by quickly though. We soar over the mountains and are clattering down onto the streets of Malice in twenty minutes, which is about how long it takes my stomach to stop doing flips from the carriage’s swaying even after we stop.
“You look like you need a drink, my dear,” Asterim says as she slips from the vehicle. We’re outside a building with a series of stone columns out front, supporting an elegant triangular portico. The dance hall’s wide wooden doors are flung open, golden lamplight spilling onto the street from inside, accompanied by music and laughter.
Suddenly, I’m nervous. There’s a whole host of demons in there, ones that aren’t under strict instructions not to harm the Lord of Malice’s pet human, and I’m expected to gosocialize?
“Don’t worry, darling,” Asterim says, taking my hand and patting it. “Most of the demons in there are already far too tipsy to pay the slightest bit of attention to you.”
“And the rest?” I ask weakly.
Her face grows serious. “I meant what I said to Syrus. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
I nod, keeping my eyes down as she murmurs something to the burly demons posted on the door, then let her pull me inside.
Immediately, I feel more anonymous than when we were out on the street. The hall is crowded with stylishly dressed demons of all shapes and sizes, but the dim lighting and wall of noise means Asterim and I barely draw anyone’s notice as we move between the press of bodies. We pass a line of booths with soft seating along one wall, then stop at a long, polished counter, where a fanged barwoman greets Asterim like an old friend.
“What do you want to drink?” Asterim calls up at me.
“Er…anything!” I reply.
“A woman of adventure,” she grins. “I like it.”
I turn around to survey the room as she orders, watching the band in the corner and the dancers moving around the dance floor. The music is strange and compelling. There’s an echo of the lively jigs you’d hear in Strata’s music halls, but a few of the musicians are playing a kind of hand drum I don’t recognize, and there’s a powerful, primal rhythm to it. The dancing is different too. More free and loose. Male and female demons move closely together, writhing to the beat. A beat that reverberates right through my heart and—am I feeling that right?—sending a prickle up the back of my neck.
Oh no.
“Having fun?”murmurs a sly voice in my mind.
“What are you doing?”I demand.
His presence slides deeper into my body, sending my pulse racing for a few seconds with the intensity of it.“Did you really think I’d let you roam around Malice, looking likethat, without checking in?”he asks.
“There’s nothing wrong with how I look!”I protest.
“Exactly,”he purrs.
Asterim chooses that moment to shuffle over and hand me a tall, emerald-colored drink. The heat of a flush creeps up my neck, and I take a gulp to distract myself, nearly coughing when the strong alcohol hits the back of my throat.
“Steady now,”Syrus says, infuriatingly smug as he trails a touch along the base of my throat, soothing the burn there.
I exhale heavily. The only thing to do is ignore him until he gets bored, so I turn to Asterim with a smile. “This is good,” I say.
“What’s better is who I’ve just seen walk in,” she replies. Then she descends into some gossip about various demons, pointing out who’s who and offering me entertaining tidbits about their indiscretions and petty feuds as I sip my drink. Syrus stays mostly quiet for this, but I can feel him there at the back of my mind, lurking.
Eventually, one of Asterim’s acquaintances, a spindly demon with horns, spots her and starts to come over.
