Page 46 of Demon Food

“You know what? Good. I’m glad you’re coughing. I hope it was worth it.”

He sagged against the floor when the coughing quelled, using his bicep as a pillow. His eyes rolled shut as a weak grin softened his face. “It was, human. It was.”

I let my legs stretch out in front of me as I settled against the wall. “So, apparently that’s something you can do as well. What do you call that? Answer without doing it.”

“Projection.”

Projection. I squirmed at the memory of a dozen different ghost hands on me as they pushed me onto my knees before the king. “Another talent precious to your blood then?”

He nodded but didn’t open his eyes, his voice drowsy as he said, “My brother is most skilled at it.”

I squinted. “You have a brother?”

“I have a twin.”

My eyebrows shot up. To be the rulers of this kingdom, I really didn’t know much about them. They conducted themselves with such secrecy, barring the infrequent parades.

“So, how was it decided who would be the future king?”

“The fates decided,” he said, sounding a little weaker, like he was tiring quickly from the loss of blood. “I’m eight minutes older, and therefore, the rightful heir.”

I couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of a wedge something like that could potentially drive between siblings. Eight minutes and one of them was the most powerful creature in the kingdom, while the other was just a prince.

“What’s his name?”

“Tobian.”

Tobian. Tobian and Alekus. “I bet you have a lot in common, being twins.”

His copper eyes blinked open, and I suddenly regretted saying that. It was the pain behind his eyes. Like something meaningful was burning to be told.

“No commonality beyond our blood,” he said. “We are different in every way imaginable.”

I held his gaze. Or he held mine. Then his face contorted as he gritted his teeth. He touched his fingertips to his wound, then held them up in the firelight to observe them. They were wet with blood. The wound hadn’t healed. It should’ve healed so long ago.

I chewed my lower lip, tipping my chin toward his side. “Why’d you lie about it? Why didn’t you tell your father how you really got hurt?”

“You think me that evil, my love?”

Oh, I dared not answer that question with honesty. It was nothing against him. I thought they were all that evil.

A smirk twitched his full lips when I said nothing, like the silence spoke volumes. “I didn’t tell my father because it’s not your fault you stabbed me. It’s his own.”

I blinked.

“One can’t cage a snow fox, then grow angry when it bites.”

My forehead crinkled. He’d done it to…protect me. That couldn’t be true. He couldn’t have lied to protect the human who stabbed him.

“We expect you to behave so differently than us,” he said, his words a little fainter as his eyes fell shut again. “As if you are different, but you’re not. It’s what’s wrong with it all.”

“With it all?” I asked, scooting an inch closer to hear him. “As in what?”

He didn’t respond. I waited a long time, but he said nothing. He was also quite still, and for the life of me, I did not know why I felt a pang of panic that he might be dead.

“Prince,” I said quietly.

His eyes didn’t open, but he hummed in question, his voice fading even more.