Page 90 of Hell-Bound

The pink Devil pursed her lips and dropped the bag near the vanity.

“You know I belong to Azur, right? I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Ren struggled to keep her face from scowling.

“I see. Well, thank you anyway.”

“Honestly, it’s fine,” the pink Devil replied, “I kind of live for this, helping clueless women find their sparkle.”

Ren chose not to be offended as she sat at the vanity.

There was a tense silence before Zelaia interjected, “do you prefer that? Being called a woman? Or do you preferfemale? You are Half-Elven, right?”

Ren opened her mouth to respond but paused. She hadn’t thought about it before. True, she took more after her mother with her silver hair and was showing signs of longevity, but her eyes were undoubtedly from her father. Her ears were the size of a Human’s, though they came to a point, giving away her mixed blood.

“Either is fine,” she said quietly.

Zelaia met her eyes in the mirror.

“I just wanted to make sure.”

As Zelaia ran brushes through her hair, applied powder, and did something or other with oils, Ren contemplated the question. The more she thought about it, the more her stomach twisted. It prompted her once more to linger on the knowledge that she didn’t know who she was. Her identity was undefined and mysterious to her and so intrinsically tied to memories and learned behaviors. She didn’t know enough about Elves or Humans to even begin to organize any sort of opinion on the matter. How was she supposed tobesomething without even knowing what it meant? What was the difference between an Elf and a Human? Or, for that matter, a Devil and a Human? Not physically, but something deeper. Leo warned her never to trust Devils, but besides Benji, Jester had been her only real friend. He’d shown her kindness, made her smile, and always tried to protect her. Even Zelaia, despite her bruskness, didn’t seem evil or manipulative.

She felt frustrated with the concept of having to choose a box to put herself in. To be defined.

Just Ren.

Shouldn’t that be enough?

After putting on the final touches, Ren had to admit Zelaia was a genius. She’d twisted her silver hair in an intricate knot, pulling it off her shoulders so as not to obscure her shining gem. She had applied coal to highlight the chocolatey hues in her eyes, and her lips were painted to match her dress.

I am beautiful aswellas commanding. But moreimportantly, I’m Ren.

She reached up to brush the tips of her fingers on her vurmite.

“Good luck tonight. Many Devils would sell their souls to be where you are,” Zelaia said before patting Ren’s shoulder and letting herself out.

Ren’s eyes followed Zelaia, and she wondered what had brought the Devil to Azur’s doorstep—what desperate need this gorgeous creature had.

After adjusting her stone once more, she tore herself from the mirror and descended the wide staircase to the entrance hall, pride filling her chest for not snagging the perfect fabric on her heels. Azur was waiting, hands crossed behind his back, staring out the open door.

She’d seen several versions of Azur already, from the hellish negotiator to the unleashed terror, but tonight, Azur was all king. He did not wear a crown. He didn’t need to. His horns were everything any king would need to display power and position. His wings were unfurled and tucked tightly against his back. The impossibly terrifying appendages looked every bit as noble as any mantle worn by royalty. His waistcoat was red, the perfect complement to Ren’s dress, and his breeches were leather, as if he still wanted his subject to know that he was a warrior as well as a king.

He turned, hearing her approach, and grinned with approval.

“Jester told me you might pick that dress. I must say I am quite pleased.”

She lifted her chin as she descended the rest of the stairs.

“You could just say I’m stunning and be done with it.”

He raised an amused eyebrow.

“You look stunning, Ren Eldanuer,” he said without a hint of irony.

Her breath caught.

Aloof, she reminded herself as she placed her hand in the king’s and allowed herself to be led to the royal carriage.