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I squeeze the last heartbeats from the large muscle, and the last of Drir’gen’s life drips down my arm. I let it fall from my hands like a rag.
The pub is silent.
“Volikan is the victor.” The Prince sheathes his scimitars and gives me a nod. “I believe we’re finished here.”
The pub is a bloodbath, literally. I step over a severed arm to follow him out of the door, and we both leave bloody footprints on the steps as we exit.
I’d expected a weight to lift off me once Drir’gen was killed, but now that my rage has subsided, all I can feel is waves of fear. All I can see is Anastasia, with her light brown hair and serious eyes.
Prayer is not known among my kind. Not really—we save conversations with the gods for our soz’garoth, and beseeching them for help is a form of blasphemy. And so I don’t pray. I don’t know that I can.
But I do look up at the lightning filled sky and hope that Anastastia’s goddess hears her pleas. If I were a god, I think, I’d grant her an audience, too.
“Come.” The Prince slaps a good natured hand across my back. “We’re done here. Let’s go see your mate.”
I nearly trip over my feet in my haste.
Anastasia.
I’m coming.
119
ANASTASIA
We wait in the sitting room for our men to return, and I picture how many women before me have done the same thing. Few, I imagine, had the luck to make their vigil in a home full of servants who keep fetching food and drink to satiate their every whim.
I’m lucky to be out of bed at all, though I’m sure Laura would have left servants to meet my needs anyway. It isn’t the food that lured me here to the sitting room, but the company. I couldn’t stand to spend another second confined to bed, my head ruminating on my suffering.
The change of scenery, I thought, would at least get my mind off everything. Not just my pain, but the fact that I wait anxiously for Volikan to return. Laura tried to argue, but I insisted, and she was ultimately unwilling to deny my request.
It has, unfortunately, been a less than successful endeavor. I can’t shake the gnawing sense of dread that has settled in my stomach, worrying that Drir’gen will prove to be an unbeatable foe. But I still imagine that it would be worse if I had remained in bed and tried to make the best of whatever distraction I could find.
“How do you find living with the Prince?” I ask, gazing around the ornate room. It’s not quite a mansion, but certainly Laura has found herself living much larger than she had ever expected. Human women on Protheka would have little chance of ever finding such conditions.
Of course, human women of Protheka aren’t mated to a prince of the royal demon family. He may not be the Crown Heir, but he’s still quite a prestigious catch.
She smiles happily, her face taking on a dreamy quality. “Oh, it’s perfect,” she confesses cheerfully. “He’s the most wonderful mate anyone could ever dream of, even if I don’t deserve such a thing. I’m so content here, with our perfect little family.”
Something in her answer gives me pause. I glance around the room, thoughtfully considering it. “You two don’t have children yet, do you?”
She shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak. Then she clamps her mouth closed, sitting up straight. “No. Have some of the bread. It’s very soft and easy to chew,” she offers.
It’s a kind thought, and shows that she’s aware of my tender, bruised jaw. But I can’t help but feel as though she throws it out as something of a distraction. She has a stiff air about her now, as if she inadvertently realized she had something out of place and was hoping I hadn’t noticed.
I furrow my brow, studying her. But I can’t tell what’s on her mind and decide it’s not my place to inquire. Whatever it is, she clearly didn’t want to share it, and I can respect that.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” I offer, letting the matter blow over easily. She relaxes, but then her shoulders stoop sadly instead. “Better than the other women,” she reflects, a twinge of guilt creeping into her voice.
Those words are all it takes to confirm for me that Laura didn’t fully understand what she was doing when she had the human women sent here to Galmoleth. I’ve always lived with the lingering question of whether my friend had deliberately betrayed me in order to advance her own standing.
It’s a reasonable suspicion. One day, we were in a work camp on Protheka. The next, we are being kidnapped and taken to Galmoleth by demons, locked in a castle dungeon. And Laura somehow has found herself the right-hand woman of the Prince himself.
Whatever Laura did, whatever agreement she struck with the demon King, she did not do it knowing the misery that would come for the rest of us. Hearing the regret in her voice makes it easier to finally let go of the burden of blame that I have carried deep inside of me.
I have done everything in my power to silence it. I remind myself that everything only happens with the pushing of the deities, and that Laura was simply the conduit for the events that needed to unfold. If it was not meant to be, The Mother would have stopped it.
Besides, it’s not like it didn’t come together in the end. Without the horrible events of the past few months, I never would have found Volikan. Ultimately, The Mother was right.
