I flinch. There he is, brandishing my name like a serrated knife that saws straight through my shields and down to my molten middle that pulsates in surprise, so unused to being exposed to anything…or anyone. “Why are you so against this?”
“You know I don’t like magic on me,” I mutter, but it’s a feeble excuse.
“This will take mere minutes,” he says, voice softening. “There are no ulterior motives. Even with me acting as your guard dog in this place, I am not infallible. Especially…now. Neither are my chambers. I would like to do everything I can to prevent any threats that might arise, and…it would be an honor if you would allow me to mark you.”
I force a thick swallow. Now he’s the one making it sound very…intense. “Alright,” I rasp out.
“Okay?” A smile tugs at his mouth, and his subsequent enthusiasm feels like a dire mistake.
“Yes, but please keep your left nut to yourself.”
“Are you sure because—“
I cut him off with a snarl, and he laughs heartily. Vera is pleased. I send her a meaningful glare. She only beams.
“I want to know well beforehand,” I say quickly. “When…?”
“Not tonight. Sometime later this week.”
We linger a while longer. I think Sitri’s trying to give me an adequate amount of time outside of his chambers. Vera’s animatedly telling me a story about a time Kobold nearly flooded the kitchens when Sitri pushes a grape toward my mouth.
I take it distractedly to get him off my back. He presses another one in, and this time, his thumb brushes against my bottom lip, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. Heat washes over me, and when I glance over, he’s a littletoopleased. “What are you…” It’s only when Vera arches a brow that it dawns on me. A memory of him proudly declaring I’ll be eating from his hand.
My face twists, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to feed me a third grape. “You…motherfucker,” I snarl. Reaching out like I’m going to take the grape from his hand, I smash it against his fingers. He only smirks, a satisfied gleam in his eye as he shakes the smashed bits of fruit and juice onto the floor. “That did not take nearly as long as I expected it to,” he says smugly.
“How did—I was—you—“ I growl, and his shoulders shake with laughter. “I was distracted!”
“Mhm,” he says happily, it still very much a count in his book.
I kick at the leg of his stool, and his smile promptly fades as he starts to tip back. He catches himself against the counter before the stool slides out from underneath him. Jumping out of my stool, I drag it noisily across the tile floor. Scooting it as far away from him as possible as I glare daggers into the side of his head. He flashes me his teeth. Vera’s eyes flicker back and forth between the two of us. “Should I…ask?”
Sitri draws a long sip before saying, “I think I may have succeeded in taming her far sooner than I thought possible. Against all odds.”
“I’m not your pet, and the next time you try to feed me, I’ll bite your goddamn fingers off.”
His head snaps in my direction, eyes still gleaming. “Giving me so much to look forward to, pet.”
The blood beats at my face mercilessly, and I turn my head. Anything I say sure to be used against me. Vera keeps relaying thosesee, I told you he likes youlooks, and I growl again, only to shortly realize my angry grunts are doing nothing for my wholeI’m not a petargument. I spend the rest of our time in the kitchens with my mouth clamped shut so it’s unable to betray me in either eating or speaking.
The Priest and theGrand Prioress came for her early in the morning. She didn’t make a fuss. She’d long learned any fuss she made was sure to lead them to believe the daemon was overpowering her will. She walked behind them obediently, head bowed and chains clinking as they exited the north wing and headed right. Her palms began to sweat, the daemon already bridling with nervous anticipation. She didn’t know what to expect, but she knew it wouldn’t be good with the manner of things they’d done to her already.
It bleated in her ankle, the back of her skull, right wrist to her shoulder. The usual pain of its song. They took her into a room. A new room. One she hadn’t been in before. Her vexation increased when she spotted the array of vases spread over the floor. Several incense sticks were stuffed into each one. The same incense sticks that were usually only lit during temple in order to purify the air.
Shackles awaited her. This part wasn’t new, but her heart rate still spiked at the sight. The Grand Prioress ushered her over to them, and she took her place on the floor so she could lock them around her quivering wrists.
The Priest swept out of the room and came back carrying one of the torches that lined the hallway. He leaned down and began lighting the many incense sticks, his face void of expression. She wanted to ask them what they were doing, but she knew they wouldn’t be forthcoming. They thought it would privy the daemon to their plans and give it time to prepare.
Thick streams of smoke filled the air as the Priest continued lighting more and more incense sticks. He coughed, waving a hand over his face. He gave the Grand Prioress a look, and she filed out of the room, coming back seconds later armed with a torch of her own to aid him in lighting the rest of them.
The suffocating perfume clotted the air. It singed her nostrils and sharpened the dull ache in her head. Her eyes burned. She recalled a memory of Syra saying the smoke of the incense carried our prayers to the heavens. She started repeating the prayer they’d ingrained into her head.
Heavenly Father, cleanse my heart.
From the shadows that tear apart…
The smoke had already gotten so thick the Priest took to holding the collar of his robe over his mouth and nose as they finished lighting the last of the incense sticks.
Renew my spirit, make me whole,
