Wicked Abyss
Page 12

Yet Goürlav had ordered him to go, wielding his power over his twin for the first time, infuriating Sian. . . .
 
“Why can we not simply attack these uncanny newcomers?”
“Your thoughts are forever turned to conflict.” Goürlav exhaled. “We can always go to war with them. Yet a chance for peace is fleeting. I should at least try for it before the hell-change robs me of reason.” He clamped Sian’s shoulder. “If this works, if you help me make this work, we could all know prosperity as never before. Our realms need each other’s resources; with trade, we could better the lives of all elven- and demonkind. . . .”
 
Sian had resisted right up until he’d scented Kari on the other side.
Uthyr said, —At least tell me, demon: Why make her spin?—
“Because she can never complete her task, and it will please me to watch her fail.”
The dragon winced, his scales rippling. —Sometimes you forget there’s a difference between trickery and cruelty.—
“That female taught me much about cruelty.” She’d used his feelings for her to manipulate him, digging for demon weaknesses without a qualm—because she’d seen him as a lesser being. Her bigoted parents had taught her that all beings were vastly inferior to the elves.
Sian recalled when Kari had asked if demons formed bond pairs. He’d figured she would need to know all of the details about demon matehood—graphic though they were. . . .
 
“A male can sense a female is his. Yet the only way to be absolutely certain is through intercourse.” Pulling on his collar, he said, “A demon cannot spill seed for the first time with any but his fated female. Some males bed many with this hope. It’s called attempting.”
“How convenient,” she sniffed. “And primitive.”
Though the elves formed bond pairs, no physical limitations constrained them; they could marry where they pleased. With so much control over their emotions, they could repress any instinctive drives.
He’d found them to be like unfeeling shells. But Kari was different.
She asked, “And if attempting is successful, do demons wed?”
“Only royals. But marriage is just a formality. If a male finds his mate, he will mark her neck. That is a lifelong pledge.”
“Mark?” Realization flashed in her dual-colored eyes. “A demon would . . . bite a female?” She was appalled. “Like those disgusting vampires? How barbaric!”
“Have you ever even spoken to a vampire, Kari?”
She blinked in confusion. “Talk to a vampire? Why would I bother?”
 
He’d told himself that he would introduce her to other species, expanding her views—that once she was separated from her parents, she could shed their narrow-mindedness. He hadn’t realized how deeply ingrained her beliefs had been.
Kari’s reincarnation was fey once more, so he had little doubt she’d been raised the same way.
And her godsdamned eyes matched.
All the same flaws—yet none of the charms.
 
 
NINE

It might take me more than a week to crack this prison. Other than stone, Lila hadn’t found anything she could use to attack her captor—no materials to create a projectile, or a sneak blade, or a trap.
Nor could she find a single door leading into the castle. That large archway to the terrace was the tower’s only opening.
Taking care to avoid those excruciating fire vines, she crossed to the railing once more. She gazed out from what must be a league in the air and surveyed hell, disbelieving she was here.
The landscape boggled her mind. The night sky was black and choked with ash. In the distance, a gigantic volcano spewed lava. A river of it coursed through the valley below. Was that the legendary Styx?
The air reeked of misery, ruin, and death. Like a horror theme park on steroids.
A dense wave of fire vines did in fact crisscross the tower’s exterior. She’d have no chance of avoiding them if she climbed down.
Even if she could reach the ground, the “legions” below would seize her. There must be thousands of demons gathered. If she somehow outran them, she’d be hemmed in by that lava river. The heat didn’t seem to bother all those shirtless warriors, but she would be burned alive.
Lava rapids? She truly was in hell.
Nïx, you bitch. Why would she have betrayed Lila? Only Saetth had incentive.
Lila was the next in line for the throne, and her parents hadn’t been the only ones grumbling about his inability to protect the royal house from the Møriør. Lila’s cousins might mount a coup, especially now that he’d lost the sword.
But she couldn’t believe he’d send her to hell just to be rid of her. If he’d felt threatened, he would simply keep her exiled or kill her.
The Valkyrie must have duped him as well.
Lila shivered in her damp underwear. Night grew chilly in hell? Her captor hadn’t provided blankets or dry clothes. No food. Only orders.
For all her bluster, Lila was about to have . . . doubts.
What “wrongs” did the demon think she’d committed? If Abyssian came in the night as her reaper, would he behead her the way Saetth had her parents? One clean swipe? Maybe she’d go to sleep and never wake up.
Lila would fight to get free, but right now she needed to focus on her immediate task. She did fear spiders—didn’t most people?—but more than that she feared a challenge stumping her. It’d be a first.
Her life motto was FITFO. Because as far as a problem went, she always figured it the fuck out.
She gazed up at the sky, trying to determine how long till sunrise. The lengths of days and nights varied from world to world, and she’d read that hell’s stretched longer than most. But if dawn arrived sooner than she expected—
A gust of ash-laden wind rushed over her. As she hurried inside, she went into another coughing fit, brushing against a fire vine. Damn it!
Eyes watering, she crossed to the wheel that he’d conjured with a wave of his hand. Having been away from the Lore for so long, she wasn’t used to real displays of magic.
Was spinning a cobweb even possible? It sounded so fairy tale–esque. But then, she was a fairy princess.
She sat and replayed the earlier demonstration. Tamping the floor pedal would make the wheel spin. A measure of thread had already been started. Apparently, she was to attach sections of thick cobweb to the end of that length, pulling it straight as the wheel dragged it in.