The Demon’s Queen (A Deal With A Demon)

“Rusalka is here.”

I look up from the report that I’ve been staring blankly at for . . . a period of time. I’m not sure how long. “What?”

Ramanu drops into the chair across from my desk. “She brought Belladonna for a shopping trip. They both seem content, but there was no warning for this visit, so I’m not sure if you want to look into it or not.”

I do. Ramanu is keeping an eye on the humans who were sent with the other territory leaders, and while some of them are doing better than others, Belladonna is the one I’m most concerned about. She was raised in a toxic religious household and has internalized a number of falsehoods as a result. The god her people worship is nothing like the ones mine do; he’s controlling and cruel and determined to flog his followers into submission. I hate seeing the pain it causes, the scars. Her coming from that background means she can’t be entirely trusted to advocate for herself. That’s why I spoke with Rusalka ahead of the meeting to ensure Belladonna went back to their realm, instead of with one of the others. “I’ll invite them to stay for dinner.”

Ramanu winces. “Yeah, about that.”

“Why do you have that look on your face?”

Instead of answering directly, they frown. “What happened last night after the attack? Eve seemed shaky, but mostly okay. There was nothing in her emotions to indicate she’d end up in a spiral that resulted in a particularly nasty panic attack this morning.”

I go still. “A panic attack?”

“It’s a good thing the castle sent me to her,” Ramanu says slowly. I can actually feel their attention narrowing on me. “I don’t like the idea of her suffering through that alone.”

Alone. Suffering.

Because I was too damn cowardly to face her waking up, knowing she’d regret everything that happened between us. I have no illusions about the wrongs I’ve committed against her. I deserve her anger. But I care about Eve, and every time she comes to me for sex while holding so much anger, it hurts. It’s a hurt I’ll shoulder until the end of time, but I’m only mortal. Sometimes I need to retreat.

I just didn’t expect my retreat to cause Eve more pain. “What was wrong?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Ramanu’s tone gains an edge. “What happened last night? This morning?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Wrong.” They shake their head. “You may embody the overprotective-bargainer persona, but every single one of us has those same instincts. I didn’t make the deal with Eve, but you decided to put her on that dais, which means she falls under my check-ins. So you will, in fact, answer my question, Azazel.”

I have to concentrate on holding their gaze. That, more than anything, prompts me to answer honestly. “She came to me last night and wanted sex as comfort. She was a little rattled from the violence. She slept in my bed afterward.” Each sentence is stilted.

“You bloody fool.” Ramanu shakes their head. “Damn it, Azazel. You left her alone, didn’t you? Fucked her sideways, cracked her right open emotionally, and then weren’t there to catch her when she woke up feeling vulnerable.”

I flinch. “I had work to do.” The excuse feels as flimsy as mist.

“You’re afraid.”

I hold up a hand. “Stop reading my emotions.”

Ramanu scoffs and slouches back into the chair, crossing one long leg over the other. “It’s literally how I see, asshole. If you don’t want to be perceived, learn how to shield better.”

I have many skills, but shielding from Ramanu’s sight isn’t one of them. That doesn’t mean it’s comfortable to hear those truths stated so baldly. “Is she okay, Ramanu?”

“Okay is a relative term.” They shrug. “She’s angry and overwhelmed and hurt. She wasn’t struggling to draw breath when I left her, but I would have preferred to stay with her longer. Unfortunately, Rusalka has poor timing.”

It’s tempting to rush to Eve and try to talk to her, but I’m still the leader of this territory, and there are a lot of people depending on me not fucking up relations with the rest of the realm. I’m on the best terms with Rusalka, and that needs to be honored. “I’ll speak with Eve at dinner.”

Ramanu’s attention is like static against my skin. “You’re too smart to act so foolish.”

“I know.” There’s nothing else to say. Except . . . “I need Brosh found, Ramanu. I can’t fix anything until the threat is truly eliminated.”

“If you thought Brosh was the only threat, you would have eliminated him a long time ago.”

I wish that were the truth. I sigh. “Family is complicated.” And my family has been tangled up with the leadership of this territory since its founding. Most of them can see the benefit of what I’m doing, but . . . “If I go around murdering my cousins in cold blood, it will turn the entire family against me.” If that happens, then dealing with Brosh will look like playground antics.

“I don’t envy you the balancing act you’re in the midst of.” They hesitate. “The list of people I trust to handle this is smaller than I’d like.”

I know. Most of my people are happy with the changes I’ve made. The trade alliances benefit our territory where war only ripped families apart and resulted in far too many of our young adults gone far too soon. We’re longer-lived in this realm due to the magic inherent in every atom. It means those scars aren’t going away anytime in the near future.

But there are always those who want more power, who flourished in the violence of war. Some of them are louder—like Brosh and his followers—than others. It’s those that worry me. I might be willing to risk my own safety to build trust with those people, to bring them over to my way of thinking, but I would never willingly risk Eve’s safety for the same.

“There has to be someone,” I finally say. “You can oversee things, but with you leaving at any moment to chase your witch, it’s too risky to have your attention split.” Or to delay the search.

I have half a mind to command Ramanu to stay, to deal with their witch later, but that’s not an acceptable command. They haven’t made a bargain in ages, and the amount of time they’ve spent watching the witch nearly rivals mine with Eve. It’s important to them, and I’d be a shit leader if I prioritized my fear over their potential happiness.

They consider for long enough to make me restless, before finally saying, “I think Nuin and Ziven are safe options. Both have their reasons for preferring your leadership to someone like Brosh. They also have no direct connection with anyone in your family, which is a small miracle. They won’t be conflicted if they find him.”

“Talk to them and set up the search.”

“Will do.” Ramanu sighs. “Eve isn’t going to play nice at dinner. You know that, right? She’s going to put on a show for Rusalka and Belladonna.”

I hate that they’re right. I give a sigh of my own. “Well, maybe it will teach Belladonna a thing or two about advocating for herself.”

Ramanu smirks and starts for the door. “Or maybe she’ll see a kindred martyr when she looks at you.” They waltz out of the room before I can work up a response to that.

Dinner starts to go wrong the moment I sit down. It’s clear enough that Rusalka and Belladonna are getting along swimmingly. I made the right choice in sending her to them. That’s small enough comfort when Eve sashays into the room, brimming with fury in a way I’ve never seen from her before.

She looks beautiful in her anger, dressed to kill in black, each step dripping acid and aimed directly at me.

I clear my throat as she downs half her wine in a single swallow. “This is Eve. Eve, this is Rusalka and Belladonna.”

“I remember you.” Eve looks at Belladonna, some of the tightness fading from her expression. “You were part of the auction.”

“Yes.” Belladonna leans forward, curiosity alighting her expression. There’s none of the wounded woman whom I first made a deal with present, which would be more of a relief if I weren’t so acutely aware of Eve’s anger. Belladonna smiles. “It’s been an interesting experience.”

“Interesting. That’s one way to put it.” Eve downs the rest of her glass. She’s drinking too fast, as if she’s fleeing something . . . or working up the destructive courage for a fight. I can feel Rusalka’s eyes on me, but I can’t pull my attention away from my woman.

At least until Belladonna crosses her arms over her chest, a small frown appearing between her brows. “You’re not happy here.”

“Ding, ding, ding.” Eve raises her glass in a mock toast.

I grab the wine bottle before she can refill it. A lost cause as such things go; she just shrugs and grabs my glass instead. I try to catch her wrist, but she evades me and snags it.

Belladonna frowns harder. “If you’re being mistreated⁠—”

“Mind your tongue,” I growl. I’m still too focused on Eve to moderate my tone. A mistake.

“I don’t care if you made the initial deal that got her here,” Rusalka snaps. “If you use that tone again, I’ll rip out your tongue.”

Eve laughs bitterly. “Down, Daddy.” She turns to address Belladonna, and some of the venom in her tone eases. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. I’m safe.” She practically spits the word. “What reason do I have to be angry?”

All the reason in the world, and we both know it. I sigh. “Eve . . .”

“I think I’ve had enough. Good night.” She rises unsteadily to her feet, sweeping up Belladonna’s wine as she does, and wobbles out of the room.

I don’t know where she’s headed, but I can’t let her go alone. I shove to my feet. “I apologize. This isn’t how I’d hoped things would go. I have to see to Eve.”

“Wait.” The sharp command doesn’t come from Rusalka, like I would expect. It comes from Belladonna.

I force myself to pause and give her my attention even though every instinct is demanding I charge out of the room. “Yes?”

She swallows visibly. “I know you said time moves differently, but . . . my sister?”

Frustration blooms like a poison flower inside me. I have to work to lock down my expression. It’s not Belladonna’s fault that her family is awful to the point that I’m tempted to wipe them off the face of the earth. She made the deal to save her sister, and I’d be a monster to shove my anger at this woman, who’s looking at me with hope in her eyes.

I swallow down another sigh. “She was gifted with an anonymous medical scholarship to cover her treatment the moment you signed the deal.” I can’t quite keep a sneer off my face. “Your parents believe it’s a reward for her faith that your god would provide.”

“Not my god. Not anymore.” Belladonna shakes a little but nods. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course.” Later, I’ll pause to consider the implication in her words, to allow myself to hope that her changed belief is true. Right now, I need to deal with Eve. “Stay as long as you like. One of my people will escort you to the portal when you’re ready to go.”

I move out of the room as quickly as I can without running. Despite it having only been a minute or two, Eve has made good progress. Or at least she started that way. As I close in on her location, she weaves drunkenly to the wall and uses her hands to “walk” along it.

“You’re acting ridiculous,” I snarl. I sweep her into my arms without missing a step, ignoring her cursing protest. “You can barely walk, so I’ll carry you.”

“I hate you.” She swallows the dregs of Belladonna’s wine and drops the cup to bounce along on the floor behind us. Three glasses would be enough to knock her on her ass if they were stretched out over the course of an evening. To have downed them in less than fifteen minutes means she’s well on her way to passing out.

“I’m aware,” I snap. Even as I speak, I curse myself for letting my frustration take hold. She has every right to be angry with me. Just because I love Eve doesn’t mean I’m entitled to a single thing from her.

The effects of the alcohol continue to sweep over her as I climb the stairs toward her room. Her body goes loose, and her head lolls against my chest. “You weren’t there,” she whispers.

I almost miss a step. I don’t have to ask what she means. I already know. “I didn’t think you’d want me there.”

“Liar. Again. Even though you said you’d stop.” She wags a finger in front of my face, her words slurring dangerously. “You felt it too.” Her eyes drift closed. “I know you . . .”

I frown down at her. “Eve?”

No answer. I stop short, suddenly sure that she’s dead. A foolish, irrational thought. She drank enough to get drunk, but nowhere near enough to be truly dangerous. Even so, when I reach the landing at the top of the stairs, I hesitate before finally saying, “My room.”

The castle makes me work for it. Apparently it’s angry at me too.

By the time it allows me to reach my room, I’m too exhausted to worry about the implications of bringing her to my bed instead of her own. I could pretend it’s to ensure she stays safe through the night, but the truth is much more vulnerable.

I want her close to me. No matter the consequences.