Page 14 of The Demon's Queen

“I don’t care how long it takes. I’m getting out of this magic trap of a hallway.” I glare at the room around me. “You have to let me out at some point!”

But when I throw open my door, it’s to find Ramanu waiting for me. They’re wearing a boxy cropped top that leaves their stomach bare, a garment that may be pants or may be a skirt, and boots. They grin. “Perfect timing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Perfect timing for what?”

“Azazel is tied up in meetings today, and I figured you could use a change of scenery.” They offer me their arm. “Let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping . . .”

They don’t wait for me to move; they loop their arm through mine and turn us down the hall. “Yes, Eve. Everyone loves shopping. It’s an excellent way to pass the time, and there’s something to be said for seeing the very people Azazel has fought so hard to make a better life for.”

I shoot them a glare. “So we get to the crux of the matter. You’re here to campaign for your boss.”

“I campaign for no one, darling. It sounds like a staggering amount of effort with little fun involved.” We turn a corner, and I could sob in relief at the sight of wide stone stairs leading downward. Ramanu laughs a little. “The castle is wary of strangers. It helps if you’re polite in the first place, rather than cursing at it.”

“You speak as if it’s a person.”

“Not quite.” They shrug. “But magic is a strange thing and it never hurts to be courteous when dealing with borderline sentient objects and places.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I murmur. Up until the moment I woke up here, I assumed magic was fiction. Yes, this world—or my world—is complicated and strange, but hundreds of years ago, they were calling things like antibiotics witchcraft and no one washed their hands. If there’s magic, then it’s just science that we don’t have the technology or knowledge to explain yet.

It’s hard to keep that belief when faced with a castle that seems to shift itself at will.

I don’t think science can explainthat.

We walk down the stairs and then down another set and another. I haven’t worked out in a week, and I’d love to believe that my endurance wouldn’t flatline as a result, but my thighs are shaking by the time Ramanu stops and tilts their head to the side. “Castle, please. You’re being difficult for no reason. I’m not absconding with her. We’re going on a nice little walk to let the sun touch her face, and then I’ll return her, safe and sound.” They snort. “You’ve being overprotective.”

“Overprotective of whom?” Surely not Azazel. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.

“Ah, here we are.” Ramanu turns me to face the staircase... except it’s gone. Instead, there’s a narrow hallway that ends in double doors.

I shudder. “I am never going to get used to that.”

“You’d be surprised.”

I don’t have a chance to come up with a response to that, because we walk out the doors and into another world. One strange and yet familiar at the same time. I’ve traveled widely, and if every city I’ve visited has a different feel, they all share certain things in common—the main of which is a large variety of people moving about their day with a rhythm that feels almost coordinated.

These people aren’t human. They have skin tones that range from a rosy pink to a deep crimson that edges into black. Their horns are different shapes and sizes. Some of them have wings tucked politely against their backs, some have dual sets of horns like Ramanu, and some even have scales like the dragon-man who attended the auction. They’re tall and short, fat and skinny and brawny, and everything in between. Some of them areclothed similarly to me. Some are wearing dresses. Others are wearing pants or kilts and little else.

And there are humans mixed in among them.

I try not to stare as Ramanu leads me down a cobblestone street that seems designated for foot traffic only. I see a willowy Black human with short curls and warm dark-brown skin. There’s a short white human with pale pink skin, a long blond hair, and the kind of curves that make my mouth water. And more. So many more.

And the children. I don’t know why it shocks me to see them walking side by side with people who may be parents or guardians. Or the small group in an open courtyard we walk past, darting about and laughing wildly as they play some game I don’t recognize with two balls. The sound rolls through me, easing something tight in my stomach. These children are happy. They’resafe. Safe enough to be comfortable being loud and rambunctious.

I’m not naive. I understand all too well that this is a small sliver of the population. Surely abuse and neglect exist here just like they do in my world... but it’s hard not to slow, wanting to linger in this moment of peace.

“I would like an explanation,” I say softly. “Not for what Azazel did—for how this works. Because it sure seems like your people take advantage of mine.”

Ramanu snorts. “There was a time when that might have been true, but Azazel put a stop to it. We only offer bargains to those who want them, and they’re fair enough deals when all is said and done. Anything within our power to grant in exchange for seven years in this realm with safeguards in place to ensure no one is forced to do anything.”

“The power dynamics?—”

They stop short, stopping me alongside them. “In the human world, you would be right. There are power dynamics at play,and they can be abused readily. Not here. The contract is sacred, Eve. I don’t mean that as a metaphor. Both parties sign it, and it’sbinding. To violate it is to nullify it.”

Nullify.

I tuck that knowledge away to examine later. If I can force Azazel into breaking the contract, that will nullify the terms and force him to take me home... hopefully. Ramanu mentioned something about this when we spoke earlier, but I wasn’t willing to listen then. I am now.

---