Page 120 of Demon Food

Like I was doing now.

“Talk to me, Snow Fox,” he said, and he sounded almost winded.

I let my gaze wander around his lovely face. The paler he got, the more his freckles stood out. “What would you like me to say?”

“Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”

I searched my mind for the just-right words. I didn’t want to speak of my fears. Or anything painful. “I got to see a little of the palace.”

He didn’t open his eyes as he asked, “What did you think?”

“It’s ridiculous.”

The tiniest smirk curled his mouth.

“Why is everything so glittery, Prince? Is there a reason why the big, scary vultae like sparkly walls?”

He snorted.

“And don’t even get me started on the artwork.”

He groaned, “Oh, gods.”

“So, you realize how absurd?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Can you imagine if humans did that? If we commissioned life-sized paintings of the first potpie we ever ate?”

His lips stretched into a smile. It was a dark subject to make light of, but at that moment, I did not care. I’d say anything to bring him some relief. To see his smile.

“I don’t imagine you posing with a potpie, Snow Fox,” he said, his voice so frail. “If anything, it’d be a cake.”

“Oh, yes. Can you picture it? Me, naked in a meadow, a fork in my hand, gazing tenderly at the first cake that ever floated my way.”

He chuckled, which ended in a faint cough. “I will have it commissioned immediately.”

“I can’t wait to elevate the décor.”

The smile on his lips gradually faded, like sleep was claiming him, but I did not want him to sleep. Time was not passing quickly enough, and yet it was slipping by. Letting him drift off into his dreams felt like something precious was being stolen from us both.

“Are you awake, Prince?”

His forehead crinkled. He nodded.

“Good,” I said, smoothing a thumb over his eyebrow. “Because I have a confession to make.”

At that, his eyes blinked open. Their color had dimmed to a pale, golden wheat.

“I lost that game of cards on purpose.”

His drowsy eyebrows raised at the same time a tiny smile returned to his face. “You let me win?”

“Yes,” I said, raking my fingers through his hair. “I let you win.”

“Snow Fox. Why?”

“Because as much as I wanted your special blade, I wanted to see you more.”

His smile slowly broadened. Even in his worst hour, it was moon-white and stunning.

“I wanted to go on the walk with you and go swimming,” I said. “I wanted to see the sunlight in your hair, too.”