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My stomach churns.
She was happy to die.
Still, it takes everything I have to keep my meal from revolting and coming back up. My mind is at war with some deep-rooted instinct that should have faded well over a century ago. My head aches with the bevy of contradictions that eat away at all I know.
She wanted to die.
Elizabeth bends at the waist, tilting my face up to meet her gaze. “Well done,” she purrs. Her voice is low and seductive.
Hers.
We belong only to her… her prince.
The glowing ring around her lavender irises is so intense, it would force a mortal to avert their eyes. It’s only when she holds me captive with her gaze that I can remember who I am, the reason I exist.
Her tongue darts out, licking a smear of blood from the corner of my mouth. “You will finally be the prince I have waited so long for you to become.” It is not a hope she has for me, but a command.
We will not fail her.
“I will not fail you.” The words leave my mouth with the same effortless ease as drawing breath in sleep.
Her mouth descends on mine. Fangs scrape over my tongue as she allows both sets to lengthen. The points tear at my flesh, a bottom fang pierces my lower lip.
I relish the sharp sting because it is from her.
She ends the kiss. The wounds inflicted by it are already healing by the time she releases me and allows me to straighten.
One corner of her mouth tilts up. My queen watches me, assesses me. A long, elegant finger taps rhythmically on the elbow of her opposite arm crossed over her body.
Kharis croaks, the sound an unsettling mimic of the wordblood.My queen’s attention slides from me to her demon. She nods to them once. Then, without a word or glance, she turns and strides toward the door. The bird leaps from the fireplace mantle and perches on her shoulder.
Without a discernible sound or signal, the guards on the other side open the doors and allow her to pass without breaking her stride. With a resounding thud, they close behind her.
The silence rings in my ears. Loud. Nearly deafening. I can hardly think through the viscous cloud it creates in my head.
Do not displease her.The thought comes harsh and scraping across my mind.
She should never be displeased.
CHAPTER TWO
CLARA
When stories end,evil is defeated, and we content ourselves in knowing the hero will live a peaceful life from that point on. But reality has no such endings or guarantees. We may think we have found our way out of the dark, only to stumble right back into it, without warning.
Two eyes swirling with the blood-red and burnished gold of molten metal grow brighter, rooting me to where I stand.
Thick shadows along the edges of the cell, where no light ever touches, stretch out, expanding until the dark swallows up what little I can see in the dim light of this cell until those bright orbs are all that remain. The demon’s breath washes over my face with every exhale—cold as winter wind, carrying the faint scent of wood smoke.
“Do not make the mistake of thinking it will be easy to take in my power, and there is a good chance you will not live long enough to make use of it—regardless of how hard you train. I may be chained beneath this castle, but that does not make me weak.”
That might as well be a promise of certain death. A fact that should frighten me, but I find it doesn’t. After all, the likelihood I’ll die anyway before this is over is practically guaranteed.
If making a deal with a demon doesn’t kill me, there are a dozen other, more terrible ways that await their turn. Only this offers me a sliver of hope for success. Out of the limited options available to me,thismight be the least horrible end I could choose. Still, I don’t wish to die.
The demon’s low growl sends a shiver vibrating over my skin as it rumbles through the dank cell. Their gaze narrows when I do not respond. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The sound is little more than a dry rasp clawing its way up my throat. “I have no intention of going back on my word,” I say softer than intended, though grateful my voice doesn’t waver.
