Page 141 of Demon Touched

Lady Roseingrave turns, drinks in hand. Her expression is sympathetic. “It’s nothing to worry about, sweet girl, but I know who you are.”

“You do?” I croak.

“Yes.” She crosses to me, handing me the drink. “Leah Reed, the young woman who married Hathwell Reed and then went missing. Imagine my surprise when I heard that you’d resurfaced, and more, that you were the same woman who was staying at the Assembly with the demon lord.” She smiles, raising an eyebrow and her glass. “That certainly explains the disappearance.”

“How?” I ask as she sips her wine, casually arranging her skirts. “How do you know who I am?”

“Oh, my girl, I make it my business to know all the good gossip in this city. How do you think I’ve survived this long as an unmarried, wealthy woman—and a member of the Assembly to boot? I couldn’t have done it without knowledge on my side. In this case, it was through Hathwell’s solicitors. They do some business for me too. And this is all why I wanted to speak with you.”

It makes sense now. I was easy to ignore when I was some anonymous demon. But now that I am, apparently, someone of means, I’m worth cultivating. I relax a little. I’m not sure whether I want to be cultivated, but I’m open to hearing her offer. It’s certainly better than watching her flirt with Syrus.

She crosses her legs and leans back across the chaise on one arm, the picture of casual refinement. I wait, ready for her to start her pitch.

“I just want to make sure you look out for yourself,” she says. “You are a woman with a fortune now, and that gives you a unique position in society. People will see you as a resource to exploit. They will try to control your power. You mustn’t let them.”

“Oh,” I say and take a sip of my wine to buy some time to absorb this. It all sounds like decent advice so far.

“You must be especially wary of fortune hunters,” she continues. “There will be many nice young men who bat their eyelashes at you and think you’re too stupid to notice that they’re pilfering from your pockets all the while. Honestly, Mrs. Reed, you don’t seem the type to fall for that, but it’s worth giving you a warning anyway.”

“You’re speaking from personal experience?” I ask.

“Yes.” She sighs, taking another swig of wine and looking into the distance for a moment. “It happened to me too many times before I worked it out, but at least I never married any of them. I never married anyone, because I realized that only while I was unwed could I maintain my independence and influence.”

I nod. The movement is slow, as I think vaguely that there’s something wrong with what she’s saying, until I realize what it is.

“I didn’t want to marry Hathwell,” I say, and the words seem weirdly hard to say, like they’re getting stuck in my throat.

Lady Roseingrave looks sympathetic. “Of course not. Your hand was forced. And to think, he nearly ruined it by confusing you with your sister.” She tsks. “Such a stupid blunder.”

I frown, except I can’t really feel the muscles in my face anymore, and when I speak, the word comes out slurred. My tongue is refusing to cooperate.

“W-what?”

Lady Roseingrave is standing up now. She’s set her wine aside and pulled out a long, thin cylinder from a pocket in her skirts. It’s metal and has runes carved all along it. She points it at me.

“I can’t believe it took me so long to recognize you.” She tilts her head, eyes gleaming. “But then maybe everyone looks different laid out on an altar.”

Chapter 38

Leah

My limbs are lead. I stare at them, urging them to move, but they just lay there—useless. Thoughts are coming a little slower than usual too, but I haven’t lost consciousness, at least. Whatever Roseingrave put in my drink has only paralyzed me.

Only. Hardly a comforting thought right now as she looms over me like a cat with a canary. She reminds me of Syrus’s deadly mountain cat Triya on the hunt. But there’s a rage in her expression that’s unique to her as she lowers the metal cylinder to my arm and rolls the sharp edge of it against my skin until it raises a thin, half-moon cut which quickly beads with red droplets. I’m frozen still, but definitely not numb, and the sharpness makes me cry out internally even as my lips stay unmoving.

Lady Roseingrave looks at my arms thoughtfully. She taps one of my palms, letting her long nail dig into my flesh. “I was there the night that demon scum tried to slaughter us all using your hands. But the Order of Sycorax is strong. It would take more than that to break us.”

She presses the cylinder against the cut. From this angle, I can see there’s holes in the end of it, collecting my blood as it dribbles down my arm.

“I might feel bad about this if you were loyal to humanity,” she says lightly. “But you’ve chosen to get into bed with the wingers—fighting for them, fucking them—so you only have yourself to blame. I suppose one good thing to come out of all this is now you’ll be even more useful.” She smiles at me, her painted lips stretching. “We heard about the clever trick you used on the plains. It will be interesting to see what else you can do once we’ve got you under control.”

I watch my blood trickle into the cylinder, feeling like I’m back in a cold chamber surrounded by sorcerers, watching them slice me open and paint me with runes.

Not again.

Anger tightens around my chest like a set of armor, bolstering me. I was helpless and terrified last time. But now I have real power at my fingertips: unique magic that makes me capable of things others can only dream of. And I’m not just going to lie here and accept this. I will fight.

I can’t move, but my magic doesn’t need me to. It’s running through my veins already, that prickling, buzzing sensation that tells me both my ephilium blood and demonic gifts are working in tandem. I try to picture them coalescing in my hands, blooming like they did on the battlefield.