He’s here, he’s here. Sera peered past the oracle, and there, moving in the darkness from the tunnel beyond, was a figure. He sauntered toward them, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, and stepped into the light.

  He was taller than Alistair, though not by much. His hair was pure white, cropped short on the sides and longer on top, a bright contrast to his straight dark brows and the pallor of his skin. She was too far away to make out the color of his eyes, only that they were deep set, hidden in the shadow of his brow bone.

  But a strong chiseled jaw led down his strong neck… and those lips. Sera knew exactly who he was.

  “I’d prefer if you didn’t brandish weapons in my home.” His voice curled around her like smoke. Called to her like a song she’d been desperate to hear her entire life.

  Alistair practically snarled. “And I’d prefer to collect the oracle and leave.”

  The scent of sandalwood and ash swirled around her. Her eyes fluttered closed as she breathed him in. It was no coincidence; it couldn’t be.

  Al pointed his sword at the lord, who just… chuckled. “First you use my language to scare me, then try to attack when you can barely stand?” The demon lord clicked his tongue and stepped beside Ophelia. There was a twinkle in his gray eyes that didn’t match the vicious grin he gave Al. “Some Mesar. I could have killed you before.”

  “But you didn’t,” Al said.

  The lord’s gaze focused on her then, and Sera saw the silver scar on his cheek. The mark she had given him when she’d finally controlled her magic. Her heart pounded. She hoped—no, prayed—that the next words out of his mouth weren’t about her or what she’d done.

  The demon raised a brow and tilted his head in curiosity. “No, I didn’t see the need to.”

  Ophelia clapped her hands together. “That’s settled then. No killing. And let me formally introduce you to Lord Vasso.”

  Lord Vasso gave a slight bow. “Welcome. Make yourself at home within the residence. Do not hesitate to ask if you need anything.” Vasso’s predatory gaze was still on her. She felt bare, even with Alistair partly blocking her from view.

  Alistair reached back with his free hand, and she took it. Vasso’s eyes homed in on the motion, and his smile dropped.

  “Ophelia, I’ll leave you to show our guests to their rooms.” Vasso walked past them, glaring at Alistair with so much vengefulness, she swore his eyes glowed red. And just as he passed them, Al fell to his knees.

  “Fuck,” he gritted.

  Sera stared daggers into the demon lord’s back. She’d kill him, rip him to shreds for whatever he’d just done, and all the lord did was give her a sly smile over his shoulder.

  “Come on,” she said and helped Al to his feet.

  Ophelia led them through another set of tunnels. “Just there is my pool, should you ever need me.”

  Sera was still trying to figure out how in Shadow’s name the oracle knew who she was. How on Eraphon had they ended up here, in this manor, with this lord?

  In a hall that had been constructed out of stone blocks and lined with ornate sconces, Ophelia pointed to two doors. “These will be yours while you recover. I shall return after you bathe, and take you to dinner.”

  Without another word, Ophelia left them.

  They were so fucked. So utterly fucked.

  Al threw open the first door and pulled her in behind him.

  The room was spacious. Near the entrance, a small writing desk stood against the wall. The stone floor was covered by a lush bloodred carpet. Then there was the bed. Iron posts curled toward the ceiling, with a canopy above. And pillows, so many pillows, atop a velvet duvet the same color as the carpet.

  The only thing that stopped her from jumping onto the bed was what she saw on the far wall.

  Tapestries depicting ancient magic. Their style was similar to those that hung in the Council chambers. But these depictions… she’d never seen before. Threads twined together, creating images of light and magic being released from a bottomless pit of stone. She walked toward them, reached up, and touched the flames in the depiction. They were black, just like hers.

  There was also violet for arcana, the green glow of plants, and blue for protection. This… this was the birth of magic. Moons, she wished she had her notebook, even if just to capture a rough outline.

  Alistair cleared the room around her. Checked every corner, even under the bed. But she couldn’t move, just stare, in awe, because she, Seraphina Wildrick, was somehow in the presence of the world’s history.

  Al’s grip on her shoulder was firm but comforting as he guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. Sera lay back. As she’d imagined, it felt like a cloud. Alistair entered what she assumed was the bathing chamber. She supposed she should be more concerned about what could be lurking there, but the lord of this manor, Vasso, could kill them with a flick of his wrist.

  He’d made that clear with whatever he’d done to Al.

  The amount of power that came off him… Sera shuddered, just as she had every other time she’d encountered him. What didn’t make sense was why Ophelia was here. Why would an oracle associate herself with a demon lord?

  Being shunned for sixty years probably didn’t give her much of a choice regarding allies. But why not kill her? To even consider Lord Vasso safe would make her a fool.

  “Seems clear,” Alistair said. “You hurt?”

  She lifted her head off the bed. “You’re the one who was about to reach burnout to save us.”

  He huffed a laugh. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  Al wiped his hand over his mouth. There were burns over his face, down his chin. That kiss, the heat between them. Sera touched her lips and pulled her hand away. Her face was covered in blackened demon blood.

  “You’re the fucking Mesar?”

  “Yes.” He was tense.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s not really something I’m allowed to announce.” He wiped his mouth again. The burns, the sensitivity to demons. Of course he would be the perfect fit. He could tell who his target was without question, with a brush of his hand. “Sera, I think we should leave.”

  “How do you suppose we’ll get out of here? You’re not strong enough to travel. Did you pay attention to which tunnels get us back to the main entrance?” She shook her head and grabbed his gloved hand. “Did you forget about the horde of beasts that almost ripped us apart?”

  The muscles in his jaw flexed. “This place feels wrong. Don’t you feel it?”

  “Other than the pit of anxiety swirling in my gut, knowing we are in a demon lord’s den, surrounded by things that want to kill us, and the fact that this lord probably controls them? No, I don’t feel anything else.” He didn’t smile like she wanted him to. Sera scooched herself off the bed and stood. “Stay here, rest, and keep healing that wound on your side. I’ll bathe and get this blood washed off me, and then we can make a plan. Together.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Are you asking to join me?” Sera raised a brow. Al’s cheeks turned bright red as he sat on the edge of the mattress, holding his side again. She held out her hands, and he took them, deep concern drawn on every inch of his face.

  “I’ll be a room away,” she said and let him go.

  “You’ll knock on the wall if you need me?” he asked as she entered the bathing chamber.

  “I promise.” She closed the door behind her.

  Safety wasn’t her first thought while she was undressing. It was the fact that she was naked and Alistair Alcott was steps away.

  And all she wanted was his hands on her.

  She supposed she should be embarrassed, considering the immense danger they were in. But all she wanted was to escape for a short time. And being wrapped around Al sounded like a great way to do that.

  Then there was the lord.

  Heat burned through her as she thought of him, what he had done. The arrogance, the nerve, after saying they were welcome… to ask if they needed anything. Sera swore the water in the tub rose a few degrees from the amount of heat running through her. She picked up a cloth and scrubbed.

  After Sera had changed the water twice, her body finally lost the sheen of grease and grime caked into the creases of her elbows, knees, and knuckles. She slipped back into her dirty pants and Legion tunic, wishing she had her pack with a less dirty uniform. She unwrapped her hair, then rubbed hard at the roots before letting her curls air-dry.

  Shadow, please keep Snik safe. She sent a kernel for an offering and prayed he’d make it home.

  “There’s plenty of hot water. Go clean yourself up,” she said, leaving the chamber and using a towel to scrunch the water from her curls.

  “Do not leave this room.”

  Sera rolled her eyes. “I won’t. Now go. You smell.”

  He gave her a small smile and closed the door behind him. Once Sera heard the water running, she tiptoed to the door and peeked into the hallway.

  Her eyes met Ophelia’s.

  “Shit,” she said, her heart pounding.

  “My intention was not to startle you. I wanted to make sure your accommodations were acceptable.”

  Sera released a breath. “Yes, they’re fine, thanks.”

  A second later, Alistair barreled out of the bathing chamber, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. The wound on his side was still raw and angry. “I heard something.”

  Sera took in every inch of hard muscle and swallowed. She admired his pectorals and his abs, and her eyes stopped at the V that dropped below the white towel.

  Alistair cleared his throat.

  “I’m fine. Ophelia just startled me, is all.” She did her best to give him a reassuring smile, trying to lessen the heat building between her legs.

  He nodded and looked at Ophelia before turning back toward his bath. “I’ll be another moment. Don’t go anywhere without me.” He closed the door behind him, leaving a puddle of bathwater and an acute awareness of desire.

  “I’m assuming you’re here to escort us to dinner?” Sera asked.

  “I am, but you’re not attending in that.” Ophelia snapped her fingers, and a gown appeared in her outstretched hands. “Please wear this while I have your current clothing… laundered. Just leave your uniforms by the door. I’ll make sure they’re ready for your departure.” The oracle looked like she had smelled something rancid.

  Sera paused before taking the gown from her and placing it tenderly on the bed. Ophelia followed, laying out an outfit for Al as well.

  “When you’re both dressed, meet me at my pool.” Ophelia gave her a look over and left.

  Sera lifted the gown. It was jet black, with a square neckline and sheer black organza puff sleeves cinched at the wrists. She slipped it over her head and admired the formfitting bodice, which hugged every curve from her chest to just below her hips. From there, the skirt fell straight to the ground.

  She stared at herself in the mirror, where her curls melded seamlessly with the dress, making her green eyes practically glow. She slipped on her boots, which looked wildly out of place against the elegance of the gown, and admired herself. It’d been ages since she felt pretty. Long before that abominable well of magic opened within her.

  Sera cracked the door to the bathing chamber. “Ophelia left us some new clothes. I’m going to wait for you to change in the hall.”

  “Sera…”

  “I’ll be right outside. I promise.”

  The splash of water hitting the ground made her close the door and leave the bedroom, allowing him some privacy to change.

  Sera leaned against the stone wall and waited. They’d found the oracle. Alistair’s job was over. But hers? The doorways? She was no closer to finding those than she had been before.

  The ruins, if you could call them that, were swarming with those things. And unless Al was back to his full health, she wouldn’t be able to chance it. Then there was the other concern… that he’d leave her on her own.

  Alistair opened the door. In contrast with the ruggedness she had been accustomed to over the past few weeks, he looked pale and uncomfortable, dressed in head to toe black.

  “Black isn’t really your color, is it?”

  “It’s not my favorite, but you look—” He paused. His eyes trailed over the gown’s neckline to her waist, and then to the floor. “Beautiful. It’s like it was made for you.”

  Despite the danger… his injury… the fact that they were in a demon lord’s lair, Sera couldn’t help but beam at him. “Are you feeling better?”

  “A little.”

  “Good. Ophelia wants us to meet her near the mirroring pool,” Sera said, looping her arm in his.

  “So we’re having dinner with a demon lord who tried to kill us?” His face was grave as he looked forward.

  “We don’t have a choice.”

  Alistair nodded, and they walked to meet the oracle.

  Chapter thirty

  Dominick

  Mystic’s was lively. The usual bare tavern bridging Dobro and Jedan Quarters was brimming with witches and warlocks, and their relieved chatter sounded better than any music Dom could have requested. Earlier today, they’d received word of a Legion victory with minimal casualties. It seemed every member of the coven, including Jedan, needed a brew to wash away the lingering anxiety.

  When they’d arrived, Dominick had pulled Ithar aside and bought out the bar. The old warlock with his dated muttonchops and bald head had hugged him and insisted he take Sera’s designated table.

  Dominick settled onto the stool, reveling in how the patrons’ confused looks gave way to joy as Ithar brought out more and more mugs of brew.

  “You only have one sibling?” Theodore asked him.

  Dominick had been surprised that Theo was willing to visit Mystic’s. They needed to update the ledger they were keeping at Sera’s boarding room, which detailed the discrepancies between the deaths Theo saw versus what the Council was reporting.

  He was feeling nostalgic. He missed Sera, Honora, and his brother. He was also hoping that the familiarity of the tavern would give him the courage to ask another favor of Theo.

  “Yep, just me and Colton,” Dominick said, sipping his brew. The purple foam coated his throat, settling his nerves. Sera hadn’t responded to his previous two messages. He was worried.

  “Who’s the favorite child, out of you two?” Theo asked.

  “Well, my mother would never admit it, but it’s Colton. It’s no secret he’s everyone’s favorite. Sera had a crush on him when she was young. Then she realized he was more of an older brother to her, and her admiration turned to Alistair.” Dom chuckled, remembering when she had tried to climb up onto the roof with the three of them. She’d slipped on the ladder and torn her dress all the way up her side. She was mortified. He could picture her face even now, red, with hot tears streaming down her cheeks. He’d helped her, and ever since that day they’d been inseparable.

  She’d always been a little behind. Not only magically, but slow to trust herself and others. But what Sera lacked in confidence, she earned in brilliance. No one could compete with her in their classes, not even Nora. She got top marks in every course, but her lack of confidence—as he’d realized when he was older—was a result of how her mother raised her.

  “Interesting,” Theo said.

  “Why is that interesting?”

  “Have you ever…” Theo cleared his throat. “Have you and Sera, I mean…”

  “Shadow, no. She knew I preferred warlocks before I did. She’s gorgeous—I’m not blind. But Sera and I just clicked. We felt like two impostors taking on the world. You know?”

  “I can’t say I do,” Theo said and looked at Dominick over the lip of his mug. “I don’t have anyone that close.”

  “No siblings?”

  “Not that I know of. Both my biological parents were killed in a skirmish before the ceasefire. Being raised under the Council’s watch prevented me from growing close to anyone. We were always set against each other. Who could be the better orphan and whatnot.” Theo just shrugged at the admission and motioned to Ithar to bring over two more brews.

  A life without his brother or Sera? It seemed like a life barely worth living. His fondest memories were of them all together. To be so utterly alone? Dom’s heart hurt at Theo’s admission. Orphans were raised in Jedan, with the same chance as any witch or warlock to change their station on their trial day. But Dominick didn’t know what life was like for them. He’d been raised in a loving home.

  Dominick caught his tongue before he could tell Theo that maybe… just maybe he could be his close someone. His old self would be making all the innuendos, but now, when he actually might want something more…

  “I hate to do this…”

  “I’ll pull Sera’s thread tomorrow,” Theo said.

  “I didn’t want to ask… You’ve already done so much.”

  Theo gave him a half grin and leaned his elbows on the table. “Dom, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not as slick as you think you are.”

  Dominick’s brows shot to his hairline. He didn’t even have a rebuttal, only a racing pulse and the need to throw this warlock against a wall and show him how slick he could be.

  The crowd quieted as patrons filed out the front door. But he let none of it distract him from Theo. “Tell me about being an orphan.”

  “Talk about a buzzkill, Dom.”

  “Is it a crime that I want to get to know you more?” Dominick swirled the brew in his mug before taking a sip.

  “I’m not sure. You know parts of me pretty well.”

  He couldn’t prevent the rush of heat to his cheeks with that comment. Their time together had been more than satisfying. The smell of him, his soft skin. Theo was… addictive. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  The twinkle in Theo’s eyes dimmed a bit. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  Dom nodded.

  “I fear… I fear there will be a lot more orphans.”

  It was a thought Dom didn’t want. No one did. But it was inevitable. It was the coven’s way of life, and even though he hadn’t agreed to it, he had no power to stop it.