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My hands are trembling as I reach under the lip of the window, and I give it a sharp push.
It doesn’t budge.
I push harder, hoping that the window is just stuck in place from years of the room being unoccupied, but the window won’t open. Only then do I see the small latch on the outside of the window, securing it in place.
Shit, I think to myself as I hurry to the next window, trying to open that one as well. I repeat the same process over and over, checking each window in the room and attached washroom, and every single one is locked tight.
By the time I’m finished, my heart is nearly pounding out of my chest, panic closing in as I realize that the only way out of this room is through the door. I’m tempted to try my luck, but the only time I’ve wandered out without someone escorting me, Kha’zeth was never far behind.
For all I know, he has magical wards placed that alert him to my whereabouts in the house. And if Kha’zeth isn’t the one who finds me, it could be the girls, or a servant, or some unknown monstrosity. I’m not prepared to deal with any of it, and I’m certainly in no state to fight a demon, magical or not.
I sigh, fighting back the urge to crumple to the ground and cry again. I’m tired of playing the part of the weepy human girl, and I’m tired of being a prisoner everywhere I go, but I can only control one of those things.
I turn my attention back toward the dresses, plucking through them in a dejected fashion as I come to terms with the truth of my situation. There is no way out of this, comes the slow realization. I put on the simplest dress I can find, a muted green cotton shift that hits my calves, and perch on the edge of the bed.
The light from the windows is steadily dimming, and magical candles flare to life around the room, casting a warm glow over the dresses spilling out of the trunk. I pace for a while, moving from window to window, always listening for the sound of footsteps or the turning of the handle.
Seconds creep by, every minute an eternity.
I try to keep myself busy, sorting the dresses and putting them away in the wardrobe, organizing and reorganizing them in various ways.
I consider bathing, or trying to do something about my tangled hair, but I don’t want to give Kha’zeth, or anyone else for that matter, the impression that I’m pleased with this situation.
So I sit and wait, the silence as suffocating as the dread tickling down my spine. The sun sinks behind the city’s horizon, the thick storm clouds undulating and growing darker by the minute, thunder rumbling in the distance.
My mind wanders in the quiet, and I can’t help but wonder what lying with Kha’zeth will be like. I’d imagine that since demons seem to be entirely without empathy, they have little regard for tenderness or reciprocation either.
That being said, however, I have a hard time imagining Kha’zeth truly wanting to hurt me in pursuit of his duty. Perhaps it’ll just be a quiet affair, another task for him to check off his to-do list in service of the King.
I haven’t slept with anyone other than Toklys. The first time we made love, it was an awkward affair for me, but it was sweet, and I couldn’t get enough of him.
Trying to picture Kha’zeth in Toklys’ place in my memories makes me feel dirty. Toklys is dead because of the demons, and here I am, thinking about having sex with one. I wring my hands together, suddenly feeling very cold.
I climb under the covers, wrapping the quilt tightly around me to fight off the chill. All of my crying and worrying is beginning to catch up with me, but the idea of waking up to Kha’zeth’s naked body pressing into me sends waves of anxiety through me that keep my eyes peeled open.
He said to be ready tonight, that he’d be coming, and yet the sky has been dark for quite some time and there’s no sign of him.
Perhaps he’s forgotten, or become too busy to worry about our arrangement. Maybe he’s changed his mind, and has decided that he doesn’t want to go through with it anyway. A small spark of hope settles in my chest at the thought, dispelling the anxiety lingering in my system.
I relax into the warm embrace of the bed, my eyelids growing heavy as I mull over all of the reasons Kha’zeth hasn’t come to my room yet. Maybe he won’t come at all; maybe he’ll agree to pretend with me, to let me stay here and be as free as I ever will for a short time until the King grows wise to the situation and deems me unviable.
I cling to this hope as my body gives out on me, slipping into a deep, peaceful sleep.
74
KHA’ZETH
I pace my room, my shoulders drooping under the weight of my conversation with Natalie. The sound of her sobs echoes in my ears as I move about, the image of her small, fragile body bent with grief swimming before my eyes.
The raid on Protheka was necessary, I tell myself firmly, trying to dispel the growing seed of discontentment taking root in me. The way her voice broke when she said her former lover’s name still lingers.
Should I tell her?
King Asmodeus may have been the one to suggest the raid, but I was the one to coordinate it. After the King had informed us of the human woman he was in contact with, it fell to me to organize the mission, and taking on such an important task had been a source of pride for me. Until tonight.
Until I’d heard it from Natalie’s perspective.
Memories of that day flash through my mind, the images blending with the picture Natalie painted for me when she told me her story. I had remembered the raid honorably, regarding it as a job well done, a flawlessly executed endeavor that had yielded exactly what was promised.
