Page 42 of Demon Food

“You are the future king.” The king spun for the door, his long robes swishing behind him as he left. “It’s time you fucked like it.”

13

Blood had pooled onto the floor. It was a nearly dried and darkened puddle surrounding the prince where he lay still. He hadn’t tried to move. All he did was blink at the ceiling, occasionally coughing.

We’d sat in silence for what felt like hours. So long that the candles burned low, and the moon now soared high, bathing Alek in its cool light. I stayed huddled against the wall in the shadows like a scared child, as if I could make myself disappear from this nightmare. I couldn’t.

And him. Gods.

I’d seen my fair share of brutality. I’d seen whores beaten and battered for disobeying the law—their fingers crushed for touching another human; made to stand on their feet for a full day for mouthing off to a client. I’d never seen something so vicious between them. A father and son, no less.

The prince stirred, digging into his pocket, his every movement wretched in pain. He was weakened, having lost blood, starving to death.

I dragged a hand down my face, but my eyes continued to drift back to him. Back to the future king.

I could end him. I could kill a vultae king. It would maybe even be easier than expected, and if I could somehow make it look like he bled to death, then maybe there was a chance I wouldn’t be blamed.

I’d be a fool not to think that was what he was doing.

There was zero chance he was lying there thinking about anything other than ending me. Or at least ending his pain, and consequently, me. His agony would be over the second he crawled atop me, and the threat from his father would vanish.

Landry’s face bore into my mind’s eye. For the first time, I was grateful he’d left. I was grateful he wasn’t wrapped up in this horror.

What the prince had been digging from his pocket was one of those little rolls of dried leaves. He pinched it between his lips and summoned a flame into his palm, but it disappeared with a pop before he could light it, scattering embers of orange in the air.

“Hey.” I wet my lips. My voice sounded strange cutting through the silence that had been settled around us for so long. “Can you break this chain?”

He tried again with the fire. But it didn’t hold.

“Can you?” I asked when he didn’t answer. “If you can, do it now, and I’ll find a way out of here.”

The fire in his palm crackled as it disappeared the instant he summoned it. He coughed, tossing one arm over his forehead.

“Prince Alekus.”

“Alekus, huh?” he asked, his voice low. “And here I was thinking we were friends, human.”

Never in my life had I met such an unserious demon. “Can you break the fucking chain or not?”

“If those well-fed, strapping soldiers couldn’t break it,” he said, smearing a hand over his face, “then what makes you think I can?”

Fuck. Good point.

My chain dragged the floor as I slowly stood, my legs aching from the huddled position. It wasn’t like there was a use in hiding. He knew I was here. How it wasn’t killing him was the insane part.

“I need real clothes,” I said, bouncing a little. “I can’t wear this.”

He tried again to light his herbs, failing.

“I need to borrow something of yours.”

“Now we’re wearing each other’s clothes? So, we are friends.”

No. We were not fucking friends. We were the furthest thing from it, both separately considering killing the other, but we also had to figure out how to survive. If I was to trust what he said, that he really wanted his first to be ‘special,’ then maybe we could get through these two weeks.

I kept a cautious eye on him as I padded across the floor to the wall, where three candles hung inside seeded glass orbs. I lifted the pelmet of one of them and twisted the candle from its spike. Holding my palm beneath it, I walked it to where he lay.

Good grief, there was more blood than I realized as I approached him. Maybe, I wouldn’t have to kill him at all. He’d die on his own.