Page 6 of Demon's Beauty

But who knows what I’ll face in the demon realm?

Poisonings or burns or fevers or rashes—really, anything could happen. And sure, maybe it’s partly just a safety blanket—if I’m prepared for anything, nothing can hurt me, right?—but I can’t deny I feel better when my healer’s kit is stowed safely away with the rest of my things.

There’s nothing left to pack.

Nothing left to do.

No reason for me to still be hanging around when I could be going to meet Allie at the Veil.

Every moment I spend here is a moment someone might come down and ask me what the hell I’m doing, or that word of my departure will make it back to Esme.

But my feet don’t move.

I’m rooted in place in this workshop that’s been as much of a home as anywhere for me these past ten years.

I’ll be back.

I’m sure I’ll be back.

I’ll… probably be back.

Once I figure out where this panic is coming from, once I get over the deep, deep dread I feel any time I seriously imagine myself Ascending, I’ll be back.

Until then, though, I need some breathing room.

Until then, I guess I’ll be spending some time in the demon realm.

2

Finn

The center of my chest feels warm and achy.

Heartburn, most likely.

After Seren and Callum returned last night—fresh off another successful assignment and flush with affection for each other, the lucky bastards that they are—we all went out drinking. And stayed out drinking until the small hours of the morning.

I used to have a stronger constitution than this.

I used to party until dawn, then jump out of bed after only a few hours of sleep, ready to take on the world.

A damned shame, really, to know I’m not the demon I once was.

With a heavy sigh, I leave my rooms in one of the best branches of the demon king’s court and make my way back to the main atrium and the great hall.

With any luck, there will be something delicious on offer for breakfast that will chase away any lingering hangover.

It’s not early, per se, but it’s much earlier than I’m usually out and about, and there are a surprising number of courtiers who are already up, dressed, and about their business. Most of them look a right sight better than I do, too.

Though I’d also bet they had better things to do last night than downing a few bottles of honey wine.

I nod to familiar faces and receive much more effusively respectful greetings in return.

Irritating, as always, to wield the Nighfall name without even speaking a word. I suppose I should try to be more grateful, more magnanimous, but mostly I wish people would stop recognizing me and allow me on my way to breakfast.

Fortunately, in the atrium—the large, hollowed-out chamber at the center of the mountain which houses the demon court—most of the courtiers scurrying to and fro are too busy to notice who they’re passing at all.

Goddess, they’re always so busy.