Page 28 of Demon Touched

My lips twitch. “Well, I’ve certainly been called worse.”

I’m finding Damein’s mysteriousness fun today, for a change. Probably because I’m in a good mood, the best I’ve been in for more than a week. And it’s all for one simple reason.

She let me back in.

After ten days of not knowing for certain where she was, of reaching out and being rebuffed, yesterday she actually called for me. And of course, like the desperate fool I am, I immediately answered. I wanted to be angry with her, I am angry, but I was also too relieved to dwell on that in the moment.

It wasn’t just aggravating, being blocked off from her mind. It felt deeply wrong. Like I’d been shut out on a freezing winter’s night, stripped of anything that could keep me warm. It was painful, so much more painful than it should’ve been. I was desperate for her, and feeling those walls come down, pouring myself back into her mind and body again, felt like a homecoming I’d almost given up on hoping for.

That relief faded fast when I realized why she’d called me. It took a life-or-death situation for her to open up to me again. That hurt like a gut wound all on its own, but it was nothing next to the bloody, sharp-toothed reality that I might lose even more of her than I already had.

She was alone, and in danger, and nothing could’ve stopped me from trying to keep her safe. Except where she’s gone, nothing’s safe. That much was obvious from even the brief sliver of her new life that I saw.

A new life she was meant to be building with me.

“Do you think we should expect trouble?” I ask, trying to think of something other than Leah as I turn away from the window to face the other lords.

Lady Jing presses her lips together, considering this. “I don’t imagine Lord Midane is your biggest fan, Lord Syrus. But personally, I think we’ve done well to even get this far. I was sure we’d have an ugly power struggle on our hands when it turned out Kaliban refused to name another heir.”

“Even the pig grows weary of the mud eventually, Lady Jing,” Liege Damein says, adjusting a pleat in their voluminous robes.

“Yes, hopefully the Rancorites are tired of messy leadership and ready for some stability,” I say.

“But that doesn’t mean they’ll have forgiven you, Lord Syrus,” Lady Jing says, baring her fangs in a way that’s entirely too gleeful. “Lord Midane was chosen by Kaliban’s advisors, after all, which may speak to his loyalties.”

“How can I want for anything as long as I have you on my side, Lady Jing?” I reply wryly.

She picks at her braid again, offering me a dangerous smile that says she’s only for me as long as she’s not against me.

“I suppose not all the advisors were aware that Kaliban was tampering with the lake,” she offers. “And those that were claim they advised Kaliban against it. So maybe they’re privately thanking you.”

We share a look. Both of us know better than to really believe that.

“Either way,” I say, “if they’re trying to publicly distance themselves from Kaliban—whether they’re sincere about that or not—then we can hope that their selection for their new lord is cut from a different cloth.”

“Or perhaps is made of stronger stuff entirely,” comes a voice from the doorway.

I turn, Damein and Jing rising from their seats to greet the demon who’s just arrived. He has bright crimson eyes like mine, and the same bone-white skin and red horns as Kaliban. But he’s much smaller, shorter even than Lady Jing, wearing black armor polished so brightly it gleams in the lamplight.

“Lord Midane,” Liege Damein says, gliding forward to offer their hand.

“I haven’t had the privilege of spending much time in your domain before, Liege Damein,” says Midane, shaking it. “It is quite breathtaking.”

“A gardener cannot take credit for the beauty of the flowers in their garden,” Liege Damein says.

“But they can take pride in how well they care for them,” Lord Midane replies lightly. Liege Damein’s eyes brighten, and their handshake becomes more enthusiastic.

“Yes, yes, quite right,” they say. Even with the veil draped across their nose and covering their mouth, I can hear the smile in their voice.

Lord Midane greets Lady Jing next, and finally me. I expected to be left last, given the recent history between our domains, but it’s a good sign when he offers me his hand just like the others. He wears his height well, unmoved by the way I tower over him, and as I take his hand, I sense the quiet power lurking beneath his skin.

“Lord Syrus,” he says, his red eyes studying me. “Would you believe that several of my advisors warned me you might try to take my head the moment I walked in here?”

“I would,” I say, letting him know I’m not offended by their wariness.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Would believe it, or would take my head?”

I release a tight laugh. Clearly Midane wants to keep me on my toes. “The former. I reserve the latter for lords who try to ruin our realm with reckless grabs for power.”