Page 108 of Demon Food

The door slammed shut behind me. I sagged with my back against it, surveying the room where I’d been with him for so long. It looked the same, and yet not the same at all.

A silver tray with a single polished dome sat upon the desk. My chain lay disregarded, scattered across the floor like decorative garland.

I carefully approached the desk, my heart quickening as I lifted the dome.

The bowl of soup was pinkish in color with a fresh sprig of rosemary jutting from the middle. It smelled of winter vegetables, the distinct tang of the excitavis root, and whatever rich pour of oil had been swirled in the middle.

I swallowed, sliding open Alek’s drawer where his last remaining cigarettes were lined neatly. I was shocked at how much my fingertips shook as I gathered them, holding them to my nose to inhale their scent.

Maybe it was because they were so synonymous with him that even when unlit, their scent brought me comfort.

I breathed them in the whole time I walked them to the fire.

They ignited in flames when I tossed them in and had shriveled to ash in seconds.

As I sat myself at the desk, I couldn’t help but soften a little.

It was here where we’d spent a lot of time. Where he laughed, I ate, and we played cards. It was also here where this young prince insisted our lives would be entwined when we escaped the palace, like we were two misfortunate lovers in a fairytale story, maligned by an evil king.

The spoon was heavy when I lifted it, but I shed my heavy thoughts.

As I ate, I only let myself think of Alek.

32

ALEK

Stairs made me ill, so I climbed them patiently so as not to tax my lungs on my way to my quarters with the four guards flanking me.

Meeting with Amara had given me hope. She would find where Feloré had been taken, and she’d get him out of here. If anyone could do it, it was her, and by the time my father noticed he was missing, it would be too late. There would be no tracking him down with her in charge.

My breathing was labored by the time I arrived at the top of the stairs, and I was forced to hunch over to cough.

“Prince Alekus.”

I whipped my head up to find Neopal standing before my door.

“How was your visit to the Hacerium tree?”

“Where the fuck is he?” I asked, charging toward him at the same time the soldiers dispersed wordlessly to their positions as stiff, nameless bodies against the far wall. “What has my father done with⁠—?”

“He’s inside.”

My head jolted back an inch. I glanced at the door, then back at him. Something was so stilted about his expression, like there were a million words on his tongue, begging to be released.

“If I might speak freely, Your Grace,” he said.

“Shut the fuck up with the Your Grace nonsense and talk.”

“As you wish.” He lifted his chin and said, “This is on you.”

My eyes narrowed as I searched his expression. “What’s on me?”

“If you had taken any one of the humans presented to you, all of whom were sacrificing themselves, then this”— he gestured toward my door— “would have been avoided.”

I blinked, wide-eyed. “Are you fucking mad? I didn’t ask for an innocent human to be chained to my room.”

“But you did,” he said, eyes sharp. “With your careless choices. With your disregard for structure, you sure fucking did.”