Page 168 of The Bonds of Indigo

She has to be Proserpina.

“Lucifer.” Even her voice is elegant, my Gods. She lifts her gaze to her son, a warm smile on her light pink lips. “You look so well.”

I glance up at him just as he returns the smile. “Thanks, Mom,” he says, draping his arm back over my shoulder.

He guides us farther into the room, and I take in the space, an echo of gothic opulence like the rest of the mansion. It feels like stepping inside a cathedral, with towering arches and intricately carved black columns framing the hall. Candlelight flickers along the walls, bathing everything in a deep red glow. Crimson drapes hang heavy from the high ceiling; high-backed, throne-like chairs upholstered in matching leather line a long, regal table set with scarlet plates and goblets.

It feels like we’ve been thrown back in time, before modern society even existed.

I mean, I don’t hate it. It’s rich and heavy. Maybe a bit theatrical, but it has a lot of character.

“Who’s your friend?” Proserpina’s voice pulls me back just as she raises a glass to her lips.

“This is…” I look up at him, and there’s discomfort in his tense, strained jawline.

Ah, shit.

“I give you permission to say my name,” I slip through our connection.

Lucifer clears his throat. “I don’t really want to give them your name, dollface.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure your father has a way to get it anyway.”

“Still… I’d prefer not to.”

He takes a deep breath, and I watch him battle with himself. I send a reassuring sensation through the link. When he closes his eyes, he releases a sigh.

“This is Amarah.”

Belial, of course sitting at the head of the table like some infernal king, leans to his right and taps his wife’s hand. “Sweetheart, this is the Witch I was telling you about a few months ago.”

“Oh…” Her genuine smile from moments ago dims into something weary. “You have Verraketh.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lucifer steps ahead of me and pulls out the chair to the right of the space opposite Belial. I tug the black floor-length gown down slightly, and sit. He pushes me in, then takes the seat right beside me—at the far end of the table. As far from his parents as physically possible while still technically dining with them.

I don’t know if it’s strategic or customary, but I’m grateful for it either way.

“Where is it now?” Proserpina asks. The question is genuine, but it makes unease scrape at the back of my mind, considering the truth.

“It’s safe.”

I can’t tell her I gave it to Vendra—or rather, to her warrior, Thornwyn. “I promise I’ll keep it safe. Nulla rimas speculi.”

When her eyes meet mine, I know I’ve said exactly the right thing. “You must be ancient to understand such an important piece of weaponry and to know Latin, our mother tongue.”

The corner of my lip curves into a smile just as someone pours liquid into the chalice before Lucifer and me.

“I’ve lived for merely twenty-seven years.”

“On Earth?”

I narrow my eyes, and for once I’m grateful Belial feels excluded, because he cuts in.

“Son, how was feeding after nearly twelve years of abstinence?”

Lucifer turns toward me as he answers. “Wonderful. I’m planning to overindulge once we’re alone again.”