The Spirit War(69)

“We did,” Josef said quietly. “A lot can change in fifteen years, Dela.”

“Nothing that matters, Josef,” Adela said, putting down her cup and tossing her napkin on the table. “I’m going to bed,” she announced, standing up and starting toward the bedroom. “Finish your damn wine and let’s get this done.”

Josef looked after her. “But I don’t dri—”

The slam of the bedroom door cut him off. Josef sat at the table fuming for several minutes, and then he let the battle calm fall over him. He grabbed the small glass of wine and drained it in one gulp. When it was gone, he stood up, threw the empty glass on the table, and turned toward the bedroom. He marched across the room and opened the door with an angry tug, slamming it behind him as he vanished into the candle-lit bedchamber.

Nico crouched on the edge of the kitchen chimney, staring through the tiny strip of Josef’s window at the closed bedroom door. She stared for a long time, digging her fingers into the sleeves of her coat until the fabric growled.

She was such an idiot. What had she been thinking, vanishing right in front of the queen? Hiding from Josef when he’d come looking for her? It was stupid, dangerous, and, worse, childish.

Nico put her head down, burying her burning face into the folds of her coat. Josef would be so disappointed in her. He’d always said she was a survivor, a fighter. He didn’t know she was a coward, hiding away on the rooftop because she couldn’t stand to see him with… with…

Nico sighed and jumped down, sprawling herself out on the steep slope of the palace roof to stare up at the long, snakelike creatures that were just barely visible against the flat black of the night sky. The worst part was she didn’t even have a right to be this angry. After all, what was Josef to her? A partner in crime. A friend. A trusted companion. But all those things could be said about Eli, and she wouldn’t be up here if Eli was the one who was married, would she?

Nico rolled over and punched the palace roof, breaking the tiles with a hard crunch. If she were honest with herself, she could trace her love for Josef back to the moment he picked her up off the shattered slope of that mountain. Maybe even earlier. She might have loved him from the moment she first saw his shadow, but whenever it had started, her love was her problem, not his. He hadn’t asked her to love him, didn’t return her love. And even if he miraculously did, she wouldn’t let him. Though she was her own master now and the demon was sealed away, the seed was still inside her. She was still a demonseed, still a monster. If it wasn’t for the coat, the world would turn on her the instant it recognized what she was.

And who could love a monster?

Nico closed her eyes. At once, the world faded away. She was standing in a dry, sun-drenched field, staring at the boulder that was sitting on the pit that held the demon. It was still secure, and Nico breathed a sigh of relief followed by a rush of profound self-pity. She might be her own master, but her control was still unstable. Even now she could feel the demon patiently pressing on the weight of the will that kept him trapped. He was always there, waiting for her guard to go down, for her determination to falter. Nothing she did could ever banish him for good. If she was ever weak, he would win, and she would become the monster the world thought she was. How could she ask Josef to love something so dangerous? She had no right.

She was still in her sunny field staring at the boulder when something cool, smooth, and hard touched her cheek. Nico jumped backward, returning to the dark rooftop with a jolt as she landed with her fists up to see Eli leaning against the chimney. It actually took her a few seconds to recognize him, on account of the light. Where everything else on the roof was dark and still, Eli was strangely bright, his skin almost luminous, like he was lit up from the inside. She’d never seen anything like it, and yet, almost as soon as she noticed it, the light vanished and Eli stood before her, same as always. He had a bottle in his hand, the cool thing she’d felt against her cheek. When he caught her eyes, he sat down and held out the bottle in obvious invitation.

Nico stayed back, suddenly embarrassed. She had almost certainly put him on the spot last night, vanishing like she had, but he didn’t look angry. He just sat there, bottle out, his black hair standing up in all directions in celebration at being freed from the ridiculous blond wig.

Finally, she crept along the roof and sat next to him, taking the offered bottle gingerly, as though it might explode.

“It’s brandy,” he said before she could ask. “Drink.”

She put the bottle to her lips and gagged almost instantly.