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The bath is set into the floor, obsidian tiles darkening the water as I step in, enjoying the heat seeping into my cold skin. The dark elves coat my limbs with strange smelling soaps and run their fingers through my wet hair, lathering it up before rinsing it out in the steaming bath. Their touch is oddly soothing, nothing like the dark elves of Protheka, so I can hardly imagine they’re the same creatures at all. They are as dutiful as any servants, and it’s almost nice to be doted on by the very beings that had once enslaved me.
But it never distracts me from Giroth’s yawning absence.
The tub is massive, and I wonder what it might be like to bathe with him. To have his claws rake over my flesh, and to feel his powerful form press me against the lip and– I can’t finish the thought, banishing the redness in my cheeks with a palm and sliding under the water’s surface, away from the dark elves and their muted curiosity.
I refuse to imagine a future we can never have.
It is unfair to my aching heart.
When I emerge again, the dark elves wait with towels in hand. I can’t look at them, even though I know they’re not judging my sudden change in mood.
“Leave me alone,” I mumble, “I know the way back.”
With that obedient little bow of theirs, they leave the towels within reach and vacate the room. Alone again, I sigh and rest my cheek against the obsidian tiles, pining after Giroth.
By his order, I cannot leave.
The thought stings, even though I know he has my best interest at heart. He wouldn’t have put such a rule in place if he did not mean to return, right? Even the smallest of doubts grows like a weed in the quiet, until it seeps into every other thought.
I stand abruptly and wrap myself with a towel, shaking out my hair in pent up frustration. I don’t know what I expected from him. Nothing has changed since I tried to fling myself off of the island. My sister is lost to me, and the others are slaves to the whim of a king that demands us to be bred like cattle.
And Giroth–he’s just a pawn in the game.
He doesn’t have the authority to compel anyone to do his bidding, and especially not a king of demons. I know how he struggled with me, and the memory brings a bitter smile to my face. It disappears as soon as it forms. What would I even be to him, if we could be together in a place like Ti’lith? A pet? A breeder?
My heart sinks at the answer that comes effortlessly: A slave.
26
GIROTH
The King’s chaos energy washes over me in his proximity. “Whatever your concerns are, Giroth, leave them behind. This is a day to celebrate. You have done a great service to your race.”
I lower my gaze, focusing on the hem of his sorcerer’s robes. “Are you not concerned about the missing human?”
“I asked for a dozen, and you returned with nearly twice that.” His voice is deep and sonorous. I can’t help but be lulled into unwanted tranquility, as if his voice is making me forget something important. “My experiments can begin post haste, and you can return to your kennels at your leisure.”
“If I may,” I say, battling the cloy of his assurance.
He raises a clawed hand in my direction. “Go on.”
“How-” I chew on my lip, glancing to where the women have gone. “How will you conduct your experiment with the humans?”
King Asmodeus follows my gaze, and offers a shrug. “How do you breed your Ur’gin?”
Something coils around my gut even as I am compelled to speak. I can feel the press of his focus even as I cannot see his dark eyes under the hood. “The Ur’gin females are vicious creatures in heat. It is required that they are tethered and muzzled, so that they do not kill the males that wish to breed with them. Some prefer to add vain root to their food so that they remain asleep during the process.”
There is silence.
I think of Cora in such a situation, her jaw clamped shut and her body strung taut for a host of demons intent on impregnating her, and fury rises inside of me. I can see her glittering, defiant eyes, her spirit never wavering for a moment.
How proud I am of her, and how fiercely I crave to protect her from such a fate.
I dampen the flames beneath my skin before they seep out, though the King watches me with pointed interest. “Does it bother you, Giroth?”
“It is not my place to question my King.”
That chuckle comes again. “No,” he agrees, sounding almost disappointed. “It is not.” With that, he adjourns to his throne and takes his seat, sighing as he does so. “Do not worry yourself over the missing human.
