Page 10 of The Demon's Queen

It’s true. They’re the one who will be checking in on the other humans in the various territories over the next seven years. They’re the only one I trust to hold the other leaders to the same standards I would. “Do you have everything lined up for the Shadow Market?” As much help as it is to have Ramanu here, I can’t keep them from this particular trip.

“Of course. She’ll summon me before the event, without a doubt. She’s so desperate, I can taste it across the realms.”

A witch will be a valued addition to the territory, which is to say nothing of the fact that Ramanu clearly has a soft spot for her. “Just be careful.”

They grin. “Darling, I’m never careful.”

I stand slowly and stretch. I’ve been at my desk for most of the day, and my back feels like it’s compressed into an unfortunate curve. “Try to act against type for once.” Something in my spine pops. “And good luck with your murderous witch.”

Their grin widens. “I don’t need luck. She’s all but mine.” They start to turn away. “It’s been days, Azazel. You should stop avoiding your human. She’s furious and determined enough to try to descend the side of the tower if left to her own devices for too long.”

“I already asked the castle to lead her to dinner tonight. I’ll take care of it.”

Ramanu is still for several long seconds. Finally, they shrug. “It’s your funeral. I’ll let the kitchen staff know to expect a mess.”

“You are such a pain in the ass.”

“Want to fire me?” They laugh. “Oh wait, I’m the best at this job, and part of said job is telling you things you don’t want to—but need to—hear.”

I wave that away. “Go.”

“Consider me gone.” They pause. “I know you’re trying to go easy on her, Azazel, but I think she may surprise you if you’re just honest with her.”

I don’t answer. What is there to say? No amount of honesty will detract from the lies that brought us to this place.Mylies. “I’ll talk to her.”

Ramanu snorts. “Good luck.”

I wait a bare five minutes after they leave to make my way to my bedroom. The castle isn’t particularly pleased with me either; it takes me three times as long to reach my destination. I pause outside my door. “I’m working on it. I’m sorry.” There’s no response, but why would there be?

Within an hour, I’m in the formal dining room, staring down at two places set. There’s no reason for my stomach to be tying itself in knots. I’ve dealt with so many stressful meetings with greater potential consequences and never once let something as mundane as nerves affect me.

But the personal stakes have never felt higher.

I hear Eve’s footsteps before I see her, angry heels clicking on the stone floor. Seconds later, she walks through the doorway looking like a fucking dream. She’s wearing a red dress that ties around her neck; the V shows off her generous breasts, making it seem like one wrong move will free them entirely. It’s also short—shorter than anything I’ve seen her wear, barely covering thelower curve of her ass and also showcasing her thick thighs and gently curved calves. Tall heels complete the image.

Her blond hair is loose around her shoulders, styled in waves I want to sink my claws into. Her lips are the same brilliant red as her dress, and her eyes are smokey... and furious.

She stops just inside the door and takes me in with a long sweep of her gaze. She crosses to the table and grabs the bottle of wine sitting there. “I was wondering about something. You speak English here. That seems odd.”

Guilt pricks me, but there’s no point in avoiding this. It will just be worse in the end. “We don’t.” When she pauses, I force myself to continue. “While you were unconscious, I put a translation spell on you.”

“Puta translation spell on me.”

I swallow hard. “I tattooed it. It’s on the back of your neck.”

Her eyes flash. “I see.” She pours the wine into her glass, filling it nearly to the brim. “I want to go home.”

“That’s not possible.”

She drains half the glass in a single gulp and refills it. “Then I want to know why. You owe me the truth, don’t you think? You lied and manipulated and had me sign a contract under false pretenses that took me away from my life, my friends, my fuckingrealm, apparently. The very least you can do is tell me why.”

She’s right. I know she’s right. But telling her the truth is going to make things worse. There’s no other option. I watch her lift the wineglass to her ruby lips. “Slow down.”

“I don’t think I will.”

Guilt pricks me, sharp and condemning. “You have a one-drink rule.”

“That was for clients, a group that you no longer belong to. I think you’ll find that, if I can’t control anything else in my life right now, Icancontrol this.” She holds my gaze as she takesanother long drink. It’s from one of the cases we imported from the human realm rather than the faerie wine we brew here in this realm, so at least she’s not falling-down drunk after a single glass. Even so, I have no idea how often Eve drank or what her tolerance is. So much in so little time is worrisome.

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