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Peri did not know how magical doors worked, this sort of magic didn’t exist in her Circle and she hadn’t known it existed anywhere. Either way, she found herself curious to see how one worked.

“Yes, obviously,” she said with a huff of annoyance. “I just didn’t realise that the Rune Circle also used them, is all.”

Namble examined her for so long that Peri’s façade of confidence threatened to crumble. Finally, the gremlin nodded. “I’ll take you through the gremlin passageways. Much less bother.”

Peri nodded. “Alright, lead the way.”

Namble was one of the three gremlins Peri knew personally. Gremlins were known for their ability to briefly travel between the realms, often sneaking into the mortal world to snatch up whatever they needed, which they brought back for Hell’s residents to enjoy. Some gremlins opened cafés, bars, or little shops, while others specialised in home deliveries of various oddities and treats.

Namble gripped a painting on the wall, giving it a sharp tug. It creaked, revealing a dark passageway hidden behind it. With a fluid motion, the gremlin darted through the opening and Peri followed, pulling out her pea-sized enchanted orb from her satchel.

The door snicked behind them and they were engulfed in almost complete darkness, her orb grew from its tiny portable size to nearly the size of her head. She held it in front of her by a leather strap, and its soft golden hue allowed her to see just enough that could scramble to catch up with Namble.

“Wait! I can’t see in the dark like you can,” Peri whispered.

Namble scoffed. “You’re fine.”

Peri huffed out a small laugh, following the gremlin through a maze of hallways and up a spiral staircase.

The walk continued in silence until they reached a tiny, ornately carved door. Namble touched the frame and the door glowed grass-green, she then bowed dramatically toward it before shuffling away without another word.

Peri cracked the door open cautiously, peering inside to ensure the room was empty. Brightmore should already be at the ceremony, so she’d be able to sneak a pair of shoes from his wardrobe without anyone noticing. As she stepped into the room, however, a flood of cinnamon scent hit her like a wall, overwhelming her senses. She stumbled, dizzy, and collapsed to the floor.

The room spun around her as nausea rose. Peri pinched her nose. She needed to get out. Fast. Maybe if she crawled out quietly and waited on the stairs until the dizziness passed, she could make a quick exit. That seemed manageable.

As she turned to scoot back through the small door, a deeply annoyed scoff—almost a growl if she had to name it—rolled over her. Involuntarily, a shiver skittered over her skin.

“Wilder?”

She froze, then slowly turned back around.

Standing in the doorway was Brightmore, looming over her, his expression a mix of irritation and surprise. The strangest thought occurred to her as she gaped at him.

She thought he looked... rather lovely. His deep sapphire skin contrasted beautifully with the long, cream-coloured tunic he wore, and—

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he grated out.

“Oh, um…” She managed a weak smile, and a shaky wave. “Hi.”

And then, without warning, she vomited.

Chapter

Eight

OLEANDER BRIGHTMORE

Wilder laid slumped against his bedroom wall. His bedroom. Alone. They were alone in his home.

Despite his annoyance, something stirred deep inside him—excitement, curiosity, and something that felt too close to desire for comfort.

He gripped onto his irritation like a lifeline, channelling it into the hard line of his jaw. Folding his arms across his chest, he blew out a deep breath to centre himself. As much as he was tempted to, he couldn’t allow himself to kneel in front of her and offer his help. He would risk her discovering emotions that he normally kept tucked tightly away.

If he knelt before her there was no telling what would come tumbling from his mouth.

She was obviously unwell from the purification smoke. The smoke was intense, even for him, who was used to this ritual of being brutally honest with himself and his feelings.

Wilder however, he suspected, was lying to herself about many things. The instant vomiting was proof enough.