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TRADITION
SAMMAEL
Over the centuries, I’ve been in the dungeons beneath Duke Haures’s castle countless times. Always acting as his mage, either conjuring the chains I now where or removing them from the prisoners when the duke released them—or decided that they deserved the shadows rather than a cell.
I should be grateful that Duke Haures didn’t command Glaine to bring me right to the edge of Sombra. When my comrade made it clear that it wasn’t revealing myself to my mate that earned me the chains but stealing the grimoire and casting the matefinder spell that angered our leader, I’d expected to face his wrath immediately.
I have not yet, but it will come. Duke Haures suffers no fool, and anyone who is a danger to his mate is eliminated. I know that better than most. The first law is unbreakable, too. I spent many cycles in the human world; it was inevitable that Duke Haures would use me to make an example to the rest of Sombra.
Only… I thought, if I wasn’t meant for the shadows, I’d at least have to explain myself to my lord. He had trusted me, believing that I would deliver the ancient book to the human world, then return to continue in my post as his personal mage. When I did not, I betrayed him.
I expected to be dragged in front of him instead of being tossed to the dungeons, though maybe I shouldn’t have. The duke couldn’t have made it any clearer that I was no use to him any longer than by abandoning me to a cell with Glaine the only one to visit me since, bringing me two meals.
He is quiet both times. The Glaine I know—the soldier I’ve worked alongside for centuries—is not usually so introspective. It’s as though he has something on his mind, the glow in his green eyes fading as he keeps our meetings short. All he wanted to know was if it was true, if I did bind Hope to me in the small amount of time that I wasn’t a phantom. The truth wouldn’t save me from the chains, but I couldn’t lie to Glaine.
Not about that.
Not after I had already deceived him by letting him think that I used magic to erase myself from Hope’s memories before I allowed my protege to clasp the chains on my wrists.
I am a selfish male. A selfless demon would have sacrificed their freedom for their mate—which I did, gladly—but he would also have taken the mark he left on his female with him. The chains won’t break the bond I have with Hope, though they do dull the connection existing between us; between the chains and the veil between realms, I can’t sense her at all. She’s safe in the human world, and she would’ve been content, believing that the one night we shared was nothing but a pleasant dream if I’d made her think it was so.
But I… I could not. I would treasure the small amount of time I spent with my beloved for the rest of my existence, but just as I was about to cast the spell to make her forget me, I found myself unable to.
I wanted her to remember me. Returning to Sombra, accepting the penalty for what I did all those cycles ago… I could do that with my horns held high so long as, in another world, Sammael still existed for his Hope.
After all, she is all I exist for now.
* * *
When I hearthe solid steps heading down the corridor, leading toward my cell, I frown.
With the chains on, I can only access my solid demon form. As chilly as the dungeons are—so much cooler than even Duke Haures’s garden oasis—I was able to conjure enough shadow coverings for the lower half of my body. Between that and the blankets Glaine brought for my bedding, I’m as comfortable as I can expect to be even though I have not been able to rest just yet.
I don’t know how long it’s been since I left Hope behind. Too long, and I know I’ll see her when I dream… but it won’t be the same as when I actuallysawher on the dream plane.
But all of that explains why I’m trapped in my demon shape. In the dungeons, all of the palace guards drift around in the shadow form in case they need to move much quicker than they can on their feet since only mages can create portals to travel through.
So why do I hear footsteps?
A moment later, when a large frame appears in front of my cell, flanked by two shadow demons—one with green eyes, the other gold—I know the answer to my question.
I’ve worked directly for Duke Haures since I graduated from the School of Mages. Aside from Susanna and possibly Dagon, I can say that I know the ruler of Sombra the best of any other of his subjects. And yet… I’ve never seen him appear in any shape other than his demon form.
Rumors have spread for centuries that he only has the one shape. That it was the mark of the demon destined to lead, the same as his eerily white skin. No other Sombrans are as pale as he, all of us with skin as red as the ash fields during the morning sun. And his eyes… I’ve never seen anyone with blue eyes the same color as Mavro’s oasis apart from Duke Haures himself.
I bow my head, awarding the ruler of Sombra my respect. To see that he’s come to visit me in the dungeons… I don’t know his motives, but I cannot imagine they are to my benefit.
The green-eyed demon is Harth, another one of Duke Haures’s guard. I know the golden-eyed demon as well. A craftsman from the village just outside of Mavro, he is Candor, the local male who specializes in marking newly bonded demons with the name of their females.
What is he doing here? Harth, I understand. Duke Haures, yes. But Candor?
When the duke clears his throat, his signal that I’ve shown him enough respect that I can now dare look him in the eye, I stand straight again.
Harth has drifted away, standing near the break in the corridor. Candor, a shadow-woven bag hanging loosely from his claws, is standing right behind the duke.
Duke Haures is watching me unblinkingly, his expression flat. “Sammael.”
I nod. “My lord.”
