Page 18 of The Demon's Queen

As long as she’s still breathing, still fighting, then it’s a price worth paying. Even if she hates me. Even if she ends up searching out the company of another.

Eve doesn’t call me back as I leave the bathroom. I linger outside that door for a few extra beats in hope that she will. But she doesn’t.

I swallow my sigh and leave her room, tugging the door gently shut behind me. I pause there. “Go easy on her. It’s not her fault that she’s upset about being here. She’s entitled to feel the way she does about me. And the rest of us can work to be more welcoming.”

The castle gives no response, but I don’t truly expect one. I head down the hall and then descend a narrow set of stairs to the dungeon. Ramanu is already there, their mouth drawn into a tight line. “We have a problem.”

I follow their motion to see a body laid out on the floor. The cause of death is clear enough from the red-flecked foam at their mouth. Poison. “This seems extreme, even for Brosh.”

“I agree.” They cross their arms over their chest and shift from foot to foot. “I don’t like leaving you and the others. I can postpone?—”

“It will be fine,” I say with a confidence I don’t quite feel. I know how much the murderous little witch intrigues Ramanu, and they’ve put their interests on hold time and time again to help me. The witch has been gathering supplies to summon them, so it’s only a matter of time before she does. I can’t hold them back from that, no matter how inconvenient the timing.

They hesitate but finally nod. “How is Eve?”

“Shaken up and bruised, but otherwise fine.”Fine.Such a neat little word that means absolutely nothing at all. She’s not fine. She may never be again. Because of my choices, my selfishness. If I’d taken care of Brosh when I realized he was a problem... If I’d demonstrated enough control to stay away from Eve...

It’s too late to go back now.

I hate that I’m grateful for that fact. I hate that I don’t know if I’d make different decisions even if I had the choice to change things. She may hate me, but she’shere.

I truly am the monster she thinks.

CHAPTER 9

EVE

Ican’t sleep.

It’s not the bruise, which still radiates a faint ache through my ribs with each breath, that keeps me awake; that’s healing faster than I could have imagined. I don’t know what magic is in the balm Azazel used, but it works and works well.

It’s not that Ramanu unquestionably killed a person right in front of me. For reasons unknown, that doesn’t shift my perspective of them at all. Maybe because I don’t have a tangled mass of conflicting emotions in my chest when I think of Ramanu. I believe we could be friends, given some time, but I have no desire for more than that with them.

With Azazel?

He killed someone too. Someone who was trying totakeme. He came running the moment there was trouble, without hesitation. More than that... I glare up at my ceiling. This may not be the route I would have chosen, but Azazel is a king. He has so many more lives to worry about than just mine. He could have let his enemy take me. It would have been easy. A preventable death, but it would have closed any weakness for Brosh to exploit.

But he didn’t. He saved me. He keeps saving me.

I roll over for the hundredth time, but no matter how comfortable my bed is, I can’t escape the thoughts lingering in the back of my mind. I should hate Azazel. Idohate him. He’s protecting me from danger that his presence created. But the danger is true enough. I don’t want to die.

I’m no stranger to stalking or even violence. I wish it were otherwise, but even before I started my work as an escort, there were a string of bad relationships with both men and women. Looking for love in all the wrong places. Or, rather, I was looking for love, and the people I fell for were looking for someone who was less of a partner and more of a possession. After my last girlfriend slit my tires over a harmless text, I swore off dating entirely. Then I met Pope and started my work. I’m too busy to date now, too uninterested in all the bullshit that comes with filtering out potential prospects who would have a problem with what I do.

And if I sometimes develop fondness and desire for my clients? If sometimes I let myself fall into the fantasy that they love me too, that they’re choosing me above all others? Well, that’s my problem, not theirs.

I’m spiraling, I know I’m spiraling, but I don’t know how to stop it. There’s no Pope to call to talk through the mess in my head. I know what they would say about my unease with Azazel: Use what you’ve got. He obviously cares about my well-being, even if he’s going about it in a shitty, over the top way. I could use that...

God, I’m so tired.

I open my eyes and stare at the city lights dancing over my ceiling with the movement of my sheer curtain in the faint breeze. It’s all too much. This situation. The violence I witnessed today. The future. All of it.

I don’t make the decision to get out of bed and pull on a short robe. I certainly don’t choose to open the door and step into the hallway. The lights are lower than normal, a nod to the late hour.

“I don’t know how to do this.” I reach out and gingerly press my fingertips to the stone wall. It’s cool and pleasing against my skin. “I...” I take a deep breath. “I would like to go to Azazel... please.”

Nothing happens as far as I can tell, but even with Ramanu and Azazel, I never see the castle move. It’s one of those strange phenomena where I look away and when I look back, things have changed. With that in mind, I start walking.

This may be all for naught. Or I may change my mind the moment I come up against the reality of how impulsive I’m being. I pick up my pace, as if speed has ever been enough to outrun my thoughts.

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