Page 41 of Demon's Beauty

As the night wears on, though, she seems a bit uncomfortable with the larger group.

Perhaps she’s not a fan of parties, not one for bawdy jokes and several strains of conversation competing for center stage.

Or perhaps it’s just because she’s the novelty tonight, the only human among a bunch of demons. No one has been rude to her or said anything offensive, but they all have plenty of questions about her and her realm. Unsurprising, given how much stir these humans have caused in the demon realm.

Glenson, especially, seems fascinated.

It’s been damned hard not to bite his head off, to tell him to ease up, leave her alone, give my mate some breathing room and… and…

That’s the problem.

I haven’t told anyone Soleil’s my mate.

Vayla seems to know, given her pointed looks in our direction, but as far as I’m aware, no one else does.

Surely, they can sense something strange and strained between us, but unless they’ve drawn their own correct conclusions, I haven’t said a word.

I’ve got far more than a word I’d like to say now as Glenson peppers her with questions.

But Soleil hasn’t seemed to take too much issue with answering, and after how I’ve hovered over her today, it’s likely not my place to play protector.

“Tell us more about the coven.”

Soleil pokes at the fire with the long stick she’s holding.

Her expression has gone back to being more closed, guarded; the brief glimpse I got earlier of something warm and teasing replaced by the same implacable, professional calm she seems to show everyone else.

“What do you want to know?” she asks.

“Anything, really,” Glenson says eagerly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Is Esme Hawthorn as fierce and terrifying as they say she is?”

Soleil laughs, but the sound of it is hollow. “No. And… yes. It’s complicated.”

“And does she rule the coven with an iron fist, as some of your fellow witches have said?”

Soleil’s brow furrows.

Goddess, this idiot needs to back off.

“It’s not just Esme making all the rules,” she says slowly. “There are other witches, Ascended witches, who sit on the council.”

“And they can overrule the High Priestess?” Glenson asks.

“Not really. I suppose it’s like…” She thinks for a moment. “A court. Like the demon court. You’ve got a ruler and a council to give the ruler advice, and everyone else just has to fall in line.”

Petyr grunts. “King Eren is a fair ruler.”

“I’m sure he is,” Soleil says quickly. “And Esme is too… in her way. The things she does, how strict some of the rules might be… it’s really all for our safety, at the end of the day.”

“You’re not safe back in your realm?”

The question slips out before I can think better of it, and Soleil’s gaze finds mine across the fire.

“We’re as safe as we can be. Witches—anyone who uses magick, really—are never truly safe. The world either thinks we don’t exist, or would be horrified to know we do.” She lets out a long breath. “Again, it’s complicated. There’s history and religion and a bunch of other things that mean we can’t exactly exist in the world as we are.”

Her eyes go sad and far away, as if she’s looking at something the rest of us can’t see. Golden firelight gilds their emerald depths, and it takes everything in me not to stand from my seat and go over to sit beside her, take her hand, do whatever I can to lighten her mood until that melancholy disappears.

“Anyway.” She shrugs, putting that damned placid expression back on her face. “It’s just… different, being a magick-user in my realm. Not like it is here in yours.”