Page 98 of Demon Food

“How does that make any fucking sense?” I asked, trailing after them. “I should be meeting with the clergy, finding a different human to be my first⁠—”

“The clergy has done all they can do for you, son.” My father said, motioning to his guards. “Indulged you until you’ve grown delusions as tall as sunflowers. But we’ve all indulged you.”

My insides felt like they were being ripped apart. For once, I was at a true loss as I blinked at Feloré, his blue eyes wild with fear. “Wait.”

“Oh, I hate to disappoint, but we must be off,” he said, tugging him forward. “Time is of the⁠—”

“I need to pray.”

My father halted, hesitating to take another step. But then he continued forward.

“To pray, Father,” I nearly yelled. “You cannot deny me that. Let me visit the Hacerium tree. Let me worship at its roots.”

He swiveled around with a stony glower on his face. Likely because he knew he’d been outplayed.

If a vultus asked to worship at the roots of the tree—even if they were a prisoner—it was in bad form to deny it, and he was nothing if not beholden to our sacred culture.

“You have a sudden interest in prayer, do you?” he asked, annoyed.

I had a sudden interest in finding out where he was taking my fucking Snow Fox. “One is not in control when they feel called to worship.”

He rolled his head, cracking his neck as he mumbled curse words under his breath. It was with a heavy sigh that he said, “Fine. But you are sick, and you are weak, Alek. I do not suggest trying to outrun my guards, who will be accompanying you, of course.”

“So long as they give me peace to pray,” I said, shrugging. “That is all I ask.”

My father didn’t say another word, but the hand he placed on the small of Feloré’s back as he led him forward made my jaw tighten.

Feloré twisted to me once more, holding my gaze as my father escorted him out the door.

Do not worry. I tried to project my thoughts into him, but he was too far to hear them. I coughed into my hand, ignoring the pain as I pushed harder. No harm will come to you. I promise.

If he heard it, there was no recognition in his blue eyes. Only fright.

Maybe it was for the best that he couldn’t hear me. It was a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, blinking at the empty doorway, racking my brain for what he could be up to, such that I barely noticed Lucc calling my name until he tapped my shoulder.

“Prince,” he said. “Prince, Alek. Your Grace.”

I finally turned to him.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” he asked slowly, the intention behind his words clear. “Anything at all?”

Four sovereign guards stood pinned to the walls, their expressions blank as they awaited command.

“Yes, Attendant,” I said, injecting a confidence I didn’t feel into my voice. “I’ll need my crown. Fetch it for me.”

“As you wish,” Lucc said, rushing to the armoire where he slid open the drawer and retrieved it.

It was tradition for an attendant to secure the crown upon their monarch’s head. I stood before the mirror as he approached from behind.

Get me Amara, I projected inside his skull as hard as I could, holding his gaze in the mirror. Now.

“Oh dear, would you look at that?” he asked, lifting the crown from my head to inspect it. “It’s awfully smudged, isn’t it? Would you mind if I took this to get polished? I have something downstairs that should shine it right up.”

I gave him a nod, subtle and seamless. “Very well.”

He bowed his head, hurrying out the door.