“So, how—”
“We met first when we were young children. We played together. Jarron was always off on his own. He liked to build things and explore. He wasn’t very social. It didn’t help that he was groomed to be a ruler, so his education was much more stringent. Trevor and I were only friends for all that time. Our parents saw how Trevor and I got along so well, and they switched their ambitions from queen to princess. But Trevor and I didn’t think much of that as children. It wasn’t until I hit puberty that things changed.”
I watch her fingers curling and twisting expertly through my hair. “How did they change?”
“He imprinted on me.”
I straighten. “He what?” Why do I feel like that’s all I can manage to say when talking with Bea? “Imprint like… the werewolves in that YA novel?”
She snorts. “No. Not even a little bit.”
My brow furrows.
“In our culture, there is a tradition. It’s specific for rulers but fitting for any demons in the royal line. This tradition states that at some point in a male’s youth, their demon will choose a mate.”
“Their demon?” I ask, confused. Theyaredemons, right? How does theirdemonchoose?
“Yes, it’s a difficult concept to translate because the words are the same in English, but its…” Her fingers still, eyes narrowing as she focuses on the right explanation. “This instinct? The spirit of the beast inside, I suppose.” She nods, content with that wording. Her fingers continue their dance through my hair.
“You see, we are a different breed than other creatures in our world. They are more animalistic. Violent and focused on the kill. Most species from our world are now creatures. They’re intelligent and have languages and loved ones and even cultures, but they have little compassion or empathy. They do not care for anyone outside of their own. They don’t think much of the future. You won’t find stores of food or farmers adding substances to increase crop growth. They take what is available and move on. Or they stubbornly stay in ruins, never considering ways to rebuild what’s been lost. Our family does that for them, for the betterment of the world. Most of our people, many different species included, do not understand our way of higher thinking or controlling, but they have come to realize the benefits.”
I consider my conversation with Laithe and what I read in my textbook. This all fits into what I already know, but I’m not sure how it connects back to imprinting.
“So long as we benefit them, they will protect our rule. That is the way of lower-level demons. Without us, there would be no society at all. Only small factions hunting each other and warring for resources. They see us almost as alien rulers, so different from them but guiding them to be better. Some follow us like gods. Others, a form of being they simply accept. No matter how diluted our blood becomes, though, we have a form that is fully demon. My demon form is the same as any other females of our kind, even though my mother is fae. The skin is not muted, the scales and horns remain, and the wings are the same size, but we are able to switch into a secondary form using glamor. It feels more like a shape-shift than a glamor to me. I cannot change what I look like in human form in any substantial way. This is who I am as a human. But to our people, this duality is in spirit as well as body. We are alien beings with a demon soul. And it does feel that way often. Like I am me, but inside is a beast waiting to be freed. When I change my form, I see through the beast’s eyes, not my own. The world is changed. It’s simpler. We usually only transform into these forms during very instinctual events—sex and battle—because we can lose who we are. Our minds change along with our bodies.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to soak in every word. “What does this have to do with imprinting?”
“I believe the tradition began around the time we learned to use glamor, when more and more portals to other worlds began and our kind continued to change through intermarrying other worldlings. When our right to rule was questioned by lower demons. The tradition states that our logical, high-order forms cannot choose our mates. Our demons do. The base, instinctual being—the beast—will choose for us, and we must obey this choice. This is one stipulation for the lower-level demons to continue to trust us. We allow the part of ourselves that is like them to choose our future, our bloodline. They trust the beast, not the mind.”
My eyebrows pull together as I take this in. I consider about twelve thousand questions, but most of them are things she’s already answered that I just have a hard time fully grasping.
“But there is some truth to it; there is a raging instinct that rushes through young demons when they find a mate. From that moment, those instincts will pull us toward that being. It will never go away.”
“Never?” I whisper. “What if—Is it always reciprocated?”
“No!” she says quickly. “That’s part of the tradition as well. It is one sided, almost never two, especially when you consider other species who cannot experience the phenomena. A two-sided imprint is nearly unheard of. And so, you cannot guarantee your chosen one will even want you in return, and it is forbidden to force your chosen mate. In fact, it’s even forbidden to talk about it until you’ve been accepted. You must earn them. To earn the love of your chosen is to earn your right to rule.”
I frown. “What happens if you fail to earn them?”
“You are free to choose another, and most of the time, nothing changes. It really only matters for the next in line for the throne, but even then, unless a rival for the throne were to campaign against the ruling demon with proof of chosen rejection, the lower demons will not know and there are no real consequences. There’s no easy way to prove who a demon’s chosen is, so it’s unlikely to have any legitimate consequences. We do care about it, but the chances of it affecting real world events are slim. It’s simply highly personal to us.”
I’m quiet for a while after this. It’s a lot of information to take in.
My mind jumps to the one and only time I’ve seen a demon’s true form. Jarron’s true form. He wasn’t himself. I knew that. I’ve always known that. When he was in that form, he was not the Jarron I knew. But when he changes to human form, he’s back.
I suppose that makes sense based on my experience. But it also increases my fear of him ever shifting around me.
“So, if you’re not supposed to talk about it, how did you know Trevor imprinted on you?”
“Well, being from the same world, I’m familiar with the signs, but also once he marked me and we began to share magic, I could feel it.”
I blink rapidly, trying to wrap my mind around it all.
“Finished!” Bea announces.
I blink those thoughts from my mind and look at myself in the mirror. The loose braid wraps all the way around my head like a crown and then twists into more intertwining braids in the back.
“Now, let me check on the seamstress so we can finish up and turn some heads.”
