Page 13 of The Demon's Tongue

Geneva lets out a small sigh. As she turns around, the disappointed expression on her face makes it apparent that she's looking for someone. Me.

I hold back a chuckle. The human wants to see me again. Who would have thought?

As much as I'd like to continue our conversation, I remain invisible. I watch as Geneva's shoulders slump as she grabs her cleaning tools and makes her way down the hallway. The disappointment lingers on her face as she turns the corner to leave, much to my pleasure.

The human is growing fond of me,I think.What an intriguing turn of events.

7

GENEVA

By the time I'm done in the kitchens, my hands are sore and my back aches from being hunched over the whole time. But I'm finished. The day is done.

"Calix had the chance to help me out and he didn't," I mumble bitterly to myself, wringing my aching hands together. "Are all demons as thoughtless as he is? I'm not sure."

Making my way back to the quarters, my stomach growls, but I'm not eager for dinner. It'll be another tray full of beige slop that I'm supposed to call food and be grateful for.

Dinnertime happens in one of the spare dining rooms within the manor, with long dark tables cramped together to seat us all. At least we get to sit this time around.

I shuffle into the cramped room, my nose wrinkling at the stench of unwashed bodies and stale air. The other women are already seated on their beds, their eyes downcast, shoulders slumped. It's like walking into a room full of ghosts.

"Move it," a gruff voice barks from behind me. I stumble forward, nearly tripping over my own feet.

Finding an empty spot at the end of a long table, I slide onto the bench. The sight of the food in front of me does nothing to stir my appetite.

"What is this supposed to be?" I mutter, poking at the gray, lumpy mass on my plate.

The woman next to me, her face gaunt and eyes hollow, whispers, "It's best not to ask. Just eat it and be grateful."

I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but the sound dies in my throat as I look around. The difference between our meager meal and the opulence of the manor is stark. Crystal chandeliers hang above us, their light catching on plates that hold nothing but scraps.

"Hey." I nudge the woman next to me. "I'm Geneva. What's your name?"

She flinches at my touch, her eyes darting around nervously. "Lila," she whispers, so softly I can barely hear her.

"Nice to meet you, Lila," I say, trying to inject some warmth into my voice. "How long have you been here?"

Lila's fork pauses halfway to her mouth. "Three years," she says, her voice hollow. "But it feels like a lifetime."

A chill runs down my spine. Three years in this place? I can't imagine surviving that long. I'm already tired and it's only been a few days.

"Quiet down there!" a dark elf servant shouts from across the room. "No talking during meals!"

I clamp my mouth shut, but my mind races. There has to be a way out of this. I think of the crystals hidden in my dress, of Calix and his deal. It's a lifeline, no matter how thin.

As I force down another spoonful of the tasteless mush, I wonder what Calix is doing right now. Is he watching? Apparently, he has the ability to do so, but none of us would be able to realize that. Does he care at all about what's happening to me?

Of course not, I think bitterly to myself.He's a demon. Why would he care about me?

After dinner, Sylas' dark elf servants herd us towards the showers like animals. Their eyes linger on each of us, probably waiting for any excuse to slap us or berate us for doing something wrong. I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Any day now, human," one of them snarls, shoving me forward.

I stumble, catching myself on the slick tile floor. The shower room is large, but with so many of us crammed in here, it feels claustrophobic. Steam rises, clouding the air and fogging up the mirrors.

"Five minutes," a servant barks. "Make it quick."

I strip off my grimy clothes, tossing them into a heap on the floor. The crystals are enclosed in my palm, safe from the water. The water sputters to life, lukewarm at best. But it's something. I close my eyes, letting it wash over me, imagining it could cleanse more than just my skin.

---