Page 32 of The Demon's Queen

“We have.” She shrugs. “The land is doing well, and our numbers have grown. We gained three new families in the last six months alone. Not everyone is cut out for city life; they’ve slipped right into our rhythm without much friction at all.”

“Will you need supplemental help come harvest time?”

She chuckles. “We always need supplemental help during harvest time.”

I don’t know how leadership sits so easily on her shoulders. I suspect it has to do with a difference in personalities. From the moment she was born, Alice has moved through the world in a completely different way than I do. “I’ll make sure to put the word out. There are plenty of young adults who can afford to spend a season with you. The city will supplement their wages, of course.”

“Of course,” Alice says dryly. “It’s not necessary, though. We can afford the cost. Our coffers are full, thanks to your trading policies.”

“That’s why I saidsupplement.” I nudge her with my shoulder. “You have a lot to take pride in here, Alice. You’ve done a good job. But the city is prosperous enough to help, and so it should.”

She’s silent nearly all the way back, only speaking when she pulls me to a stop as we reach the first house. “You’re doing good work, Azazel. I know it’s a thankless task to run this territory, especially with so many of the old guard rumbling about the changes, but the changesaregood. So many people who were barely getting by before are prospering. That’s important.”

I clear my throat. “Uh, thanks.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll stop praising you now.” She shakes her head and moves forward again. “I hear the music starting up. You’d better make sure you dance with your girl.” She shoots a grin over her shoulder. “Otherwise, I might beat you to the chance.”

CHAPTER 15

EVE

Once, Pope took the lot of us to some kind of harvest festival, and we had one hell of a good time with the spiked cider and apple picking. This is a lot like that... and also not.

It seems like the entire village has come out in celebration. There’s a four-person band striking up a tune. The food smells amazing. Children dart through the gathered people, giggling and shouting with glee. Teenagers make eyes at one another from their respective friend groups. This isn’t a party with an eye for tourists; this is for this community, a social event that it seems like everyone pitched in to make happen. Now they get to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

“Eve.”

Two couples begin to dance. Then three. Then four. The people gathered quickly move back to create an open space for them to spin one another around. My heart lurches at the joy on the dancers’ faces.

“Eve.”

I can’t quite tear my gaze away. Not even for Azazel. “What?”

“Would you like to dance?”

I know what I should say, but I can’t quite dredge up the anger that’s been brimming beneath my skin since the moment I woke up in this realm and realized what he’d done. It’s not that I forgive him—I don’t know what it will take to get there, or if it’s even possible. It’s more that I’m starting to fully understand the kind of man Azazel is... to recognize in him the client I shared meals and conversations with over the years. The stories he told me may have been edited, but they seem to hold a core truth.

Or maybe it’s the call of the fiddle-like instrument one of the band members is playing, insistent and tempting. I don’t know, but I set my hand in Azazel’s and let him pull me onto the impromptu dance floor. I’m not short, but he’s massive, and it feels a little absurd as he carefully places one hand on my waist.

Staring up at his roughly handsome face has my heart doing unforgivable things. I shiver at the nakedneedin his eyes as he leads me around the circle, picking up speed once I get the rhythm down. There don’t seem to be specific steps, but we dance and dance until I’m dizzy and the whole world narrows to the man tethering me with a perfectly polite touch.

I can’t stop myself from laughing in giddiness. It’s worth it, because Azazel loses some of his intensity and grins down at me, relaxing for the first time in... I don’t know. Ever, maybe?

“Ready for a spin?” He doesn’t wait for me to reply before he changes his grip on my hand and sends me whirling before him. He catches my hip again, continuing to move with my momentum, as someone cheers in the background—Alice, I think.

As I’m dancing with Azazel, it’s so easy to forget all the bad things that have happened. At least for a little while. The song changes and changes again, and neither of us flags or suggests a break. My breathing comes hard, sweat gathers along my spine, and my muscles ache from more use than I’ve given them since arriving here.

Except for the sex.

There’s no use thinking aboutthatright now. Not when every nerve ending feels alive and brimming with lightning. Not when Azazel’s big hand is on my waist, his heart in his onyx eyes.

The music shifts. I glance over to find the drummer and the one playing a guitar-like instrument sitting back, sweat sheening their foreheads. They laugh and accept frothing mugs of beer, obviously ready to take a break. The fiddler turns the tune to something soft and achingly sweet.

We slow alongside the other dancers. Azazel clears his throat. “We can rest if you like.”

“Not a chance.” I laugh breathlessly. “I love to dance.”

“I’m beginning to see the attraction.” His fingers flex against my hip. “Eve?—”

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