The sound that escapes me carries centuries of amusement at mortal misconceptions. "Currency?" The luminescent cracks of red and orange burn brighter as I lean forward. "What use would I have for your copper coins or silver trinkets?"
From the shadows at my feet, parchment materializes—not the crude paper of her engagement contract, but something that seems to absorb light rather than reflect it. The document unfurls between us, revealing script that shifts between languages as she watches.
"One year." I gesture to the elegant terms written in flowing infernal script. "You accept my intervention in your current circumstances. I collect payment when the term expires."
"What payment?" Her voice sharpens, intelligence cutting through fear.
"To be determined upon collection." The chain markings across my shoulders pulse in steady rhythm. "Covenantenforcement ensures I cannot exceed the value of services rendered. Balance must be maintained."
She studies the contract, her eyes tracking over clauses that rearrange themselves to accommodate her limited literacy. The infernal magic translates intent rather than mere words.
"This could be anything." Her fingers hover over the parchment without touching it.
She rocks back on her heels, calculation flickering behind those watchful eyes. I can practically hear her mind working—weighing certain subjugation against unknown obligation. The engagement contract crackles from her desk, its mundane ink somehow more threatening than infernal script.
"What happens if I refuse?"
"You're on your own. As alone as you were when you prayed to your gods." I let the words settle between us like stones dropped into still water.
Her breath hitches. She chews her bottom lip.
"And if I accept?"
"You choose your own path."
I extend my hand toward her, palm up, the celestial chains across my knuckles glowing like molten gold in the darkness.
9
ILYRA
The candlelight flickers against the stone walls, casting dancing shadows that make this entire encounter feel like something pulled from fever dreams. I blink hard, expecting the figure to dissolve into smoke and leave me alone with my crumpled engagement contract and mounting desperation.
He remains solid. Real. Impossibly present in my small chamber.
If I had ever bothered to imagine demons—which I hadn't, because why would a girl waste time on such thoughts—I would have conjured something monstrous. Twisted limbs and rotting flesh, perhaps. Claws dripping with blood and eyes like burning coals.
The being before me bears no resemblance to those childish imaginings.
He stands taller than any man in our settlement, his frame carrying an elegance that speaks of centuries spent in positions of authority. His skin catches the candlelight like polished obsidian, dark and smooth, with veins of ember-bright light pulsing just beneath the surface. Those veins trace patternsalong his arms and disappear beneath the shadows that cling to him like expensive fabric.
His hair falls in dark waves past his shoulders, and when he tilts his head, gold flecks swim through irises that hold depths I cannot fathom. Markings wind across his shoulders and ribs—not tattoos, but something that glows with its own inner light, like chains forged from starfire.
Beautiful doesn't begin to cover it. Terrifying, yes, but in the way that storms are terrifying—magnificent and dangerous and impossible to ignore.
"What will you take?" The words burst from me before I can stop them. "When this year ends, what exactly do you collect?"
His expression remains perfectly composed, those gold-flecked eyes studying me with the patience of someone accustomed to mortals asking the wrong questions.
"That determination comes at collection time."
"That's not an answer." I push myself up from my knees, refusing to remain prostrate before him. "You want me to sign a contract without knowing the price?"
"You want me to solve your problems without knowing the cost." His voice carries no mockery, just statement of fact. "Both positions involve calculated risk."
My hands shake as I gesture toward the engagement contract on my desk. "Can you stop it? The wedding?"
"Yes."