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She breathes a pained little laugh. “Are you deliberately obtuse, or are you simply an idiot?”
“I can’t imagine what you mean,” I state blankly, my arms crossing.
She turns and places her hand on my small stack of books. “Listen, sweetness. I understand that you’re out of your element in so very many ways, but I’m trying to help you.”
“Help me?” I question with a cocked brow.
“Yes, sweetie,” Diana chuckles and runs her hand over the cover of a book. “You see, Uriel died because his convictions were not aligned with his duties. Lucifer is in much the same position. Should he fall on the battlefield, leaving you here alone, never knowing if he ever truly loved you… well, my position doesn’t afford me the freedom to help you once you’ve fallen apart publicly, but I can at least give you the foresight to prepare yourself.”
I tilt my head curiously. “Your position doesn’t afford you much at all, does it?”
A slight frown brushes over her carefully curated expression. “I beg your pardon?”
“You claim to have the upper hand in matters of unrequited love,” I say evenly. “And you can’t even let yourself touch the one person in the world who would love you freely, because of your position. Tell me, Diana, will you go mad first, or will Silas?”
Her already pale skin blanches and her mouth drops slightly open.
“Nice chatting with you,” I sigh as I turn away. “But I think I’ll avoid taking relationship advice from an ice queen. Try again when you can admit to having feelings for someone you think is beneath you.”
I start flipping through one of the books, pretending to read. I’ve got her in my peripheral. I wouldn’t put it past her to attack me right here and now if I push her too far. She’s standing rigidly, glaring down her nose at me, her mouth frozen in a stilted version of her polite smile.
“Well,” she scoffs before she pauses for a moment. Any emotions happening under the surface are hidden beneath her icy demeanor. She seems to be searching for something to say, some snappy comeback to give her the final word. Eventually she turns away. “Avoid the romance novels. They aren’t written for human tastes.”
As I watch her go, a grin pulls at my mouth and I don’t fight it; I’ve earned it. She tried so hard, came at me from so many angles, and couldn’t get under my skin. I’m learning the game quickly, and if I’m honest with myself, I might even enjoy it. At the very least, I enjoy winning.
Assuming, of course, that I did win.
Horrified, I realize that I really only have Aurora’s word about the situation with Diana and Silas. Well, her word and Silas’s creepy ever-present stare. What are the chances that Aurora wanted me to say something to Diana? Was I supposed to use that information against her? The more I think about it, the more my head spins. Now that I’ve included the manipulative prism of Aurora’s influence, the whole situation looks a lot more complicated.
Maybe she was manipulating me directly to have me say something which would invoke Diana’s rage and entice her to take revenge on me. Maybe she was simply using me to manipulate Diana into doing… what? Abandon her convictions and give Silas the time of day he’s so desperate for? What would that do to Diana’s reputation? For that, I really have no idea. I still don’t understand the social hierarchy around here. I mean, the princess can come all over some guy’s face in the middle of dinner but can’t have a relationship with some other guy?
My problem is what it usually is, and that’s that I don’t have nearly enough information to draw a reasonably accurate conclusion. Maybe I’m not as good at this game as I thought I was—maybe I’m just a pawn like everyone else in this godforsaken palace. Perhaps I should pick up some of those demonic romance novels Diana told me to avoid just to get a feel for the social rules around here.
I’m reaching for a promising-looking title when sounds of commotion drift through the quiet maze of the library. The ripples of light from the skylight pool quicken, as though everyone in the palace has started moving at once. My first thought is that Heaven brought Hell to Earth to remove the palace’s protection, only to attack Hell while the soldiers were otherwise occupied.
The glass-bottomed pool of water overhead suddenly looks a whole lot less charming, and a whole lot more dangerous. I put the books down and hurry out of the library, away from the potential catastrophe. Out in the hall, I follow the crowd while I try to figure out where they’re running, and whether it’s toward something, or away from something. A minotaur thunders by, nearly knocking me off my feet when his knee brushes my shoulder. I fervently hope that we’re all running toward something, because anything that could make that behemoth flee would squish me like a bug.
“They’re back already?” I hear someone say. “That doesn’t bode well.”
“Pessimist,” another demon answers. “They made quick work of the angels and have returned victorious!”
Victorious or not, the soldiers have returned. My heart races with anticipation and fear and I hurry through the crowd. They’re heading for the palace entrance, the massive doors on the other side of the hall of indulgence. I hear the troops marching as I approach the door, and it sounds like there are a lot of them.
Before I reach the entrance, the first line of soldiers enters, looking worn out and exhausted. I see a lot of singed flesh and warped armor and fear beats through me again. Then those soldiers peel off, revealing a row of leaders marching in behind them. Lucifer is in the middle, already scanning the room. His eyes meet mine and we move like magnets, cutting through the crowd to crash together.
I didn’t know how afraid I was until right this moment, when relief washes the fear away. I throw myself into his arms, not giving the slightest thought to what the people around us will think. He holds me tight, so tight he’s almost trembling, and kisses me like his life depends on it. Clearly, he doesn’t give a fuck about the crowd either, which makes me ridiculously happy. I melt into his kiss, molding my body to his—but then he flinches away from my touch.
I break away from him, worried, and look him over. He’s barely showing any pain, but I see his body tensing around his torso. A closer inspection shows his shoulder and hip are both wounded—not mortally, not even necessarily badly—but the fact that I can still see them tells me that they were pretty awful when they happened.
“Come on,” I tell him, taking his hand. “Let’s go take care of this.”
I hear some weak objections coming from some of the other leaders, but Lucifer ignores them, so I do too. We make our way upstairs and into the room, our hands naturally lingering on each other’s bodies as we move. Once the door is closed behind us, he kisses me again, angling his body so his wounds aren’t in danger of me squishing them. I let him kiss me for a moment, relishing his touch, then pull away.
“Let me see your wounds,” I insist.
“They’re nothing,” he tells me.
“If they were nothing, then they’d be nothing. Let me see.”
