Page 40 of Bargain with the Demon King
I stare at my empty palm, at the glittering remnants falling onto my untouched dinner. When did I—
The fortress shrieks. Every ward in my domain screams warnings in frequencies that make my teeth ache and my horns vibrate. The walls pulse red. The floor trembles. Soul-stones don't break. They're never destroyed. Never freed. What's mine stays mine—that's the law older than the realms themselves.
The dust settles on my plate, glittering like accusations, like promises, like the end of everything I've been for seventeen thousand years.
Crystal becomes dust. Her essence disperses into air, into nothing, into freedom. The bond between us shifts, changes, becomes something other than ownership. I still feel her—will always feel her after what we've shared—but the chain is gone. The claim released.
Once a soul is taken, it's never returned. That's the law older than my reign, older than the realms themselves. What's claimed stays claimed. What's broken stays broken. What's mine stays mine.
I just broke all of it. For her. Without even deciding to.
Adraya is free. She just doesn't know it.
I stand, gathering my untouched plate, and cross to the adjoining door. No knock. We're past formalities, she and I. Past pretense. Past everything except the truth that she's dying and I'm the only one who seems to care.
She's curled on her bed, still in the green dress from court, the fabric twisted around her thighs from lying in the same position for hours. Her hair spreads across the pillow, gold turned amber in the twilight that filters through her window. Even devastated, she smells of mortal warmth and lavendersoap, that particular scent that makes my beast want to curl around her and never let go.
Her plate sits on the nightstand, food congealed and cold. The twilight necklace glints against her throat, the only color on her besides the dress she hasn't bothered to change. My claws itch to trace the chain, to feel her pulse beneath it.
"Seventeen." Her voice comes out rough from disuse. "There are seventeen cracks in that stone."
"Fascinating." I sit on her bed without invitation, the mattress dipping under my weight, making her roll slightly toward me. I set my plate between us. "Eat something."
"I'm not hungry."
"I didn't ask if you were hungry. I said eat."
She turns just enough to look at me, and the emptiness in her eyes makes my chest tight and my horns ache with the need to gore something. "Why do you care? Your court thinks I'm broken. Raziel's probably right—I'm dragging down your reputation. The mighty Demon King with his shattered mortal pet."
"Raziel wouldn't recognize spark if it set him on fire." My claws drum against my thigh, leaving small tears in the fabric. "Which I'm considering."
She actually almost smiles. Not quite, but the ghost of it flickers. "You can't set all your lords on fire."
"Watch me." I select a piece of meat, holding it out to her. "Besides, you're not broken."
"No?" She laughs, the sound sharp enough to cut glass. "Then what am I?"
"Disappointed." The meat hovers between us. "There's a difference."
"Disappointment suggests I expected better. I didn't. I expected Chad to love me the way I loved him. I expected the bare minimum, and he still went lower." She takes themeat, chews mechanically. "That's not disappointment. That's stupidity."
"That's humanity." I offer her wine, which she accepts with hollow automation. Her fingers brush mine on the goblet, and even through her numbness, I feel her pulse quicken slightly. "You believed in love because you're capable of it. He wasn't. That's his failing, not yours."
"Pretty words from someone who thinks love is just wrapping paper on selfishness."
"Perhaps I'm reconsidering that position."
She actually looks at me then, really looks, and for a moment something flickers in her eyes. Not hope—she's too far gone for hope—but curiosity. The scholar in her that can't resist a puzzle. "Why?"
Because you brought me dinner for three centuries of solitary meals. Because you found beauty in soul-stones and songs in demon markets. Because your breaking is breaking me. Because I just freed your soul without meaning to, my hand acting while my mind drowned in memories of your laugh.
"Because you're teaching me there might be exceptions."
She's quiet for a long moment, mechanically eating what I hand her. The silence between us isn't comfortable, but it's shared. Two creatures existing in the same space, breathing the same air, pretending things are simpler than they are. Her thigh presses against mine through the twisted fabric of her dress, warmth bleeding through despite everything.
"I threw a tray at a servant today." She says it conversationally, like discussing weather. "She was bringing breakfast and I just... threw it. Drew blood. Who does that?"
"Someone in pain."
