The glass reflects everything. The dim room. My bed. Me, half-naked, illuminated by candlelight.
And Azrathiel's eyes in the reflection, gold-flecked and locked directly on me.
My face ignites.
"H-Hey!"
A low, dark chuckle rumbles from his chest. Not mocking—something richer. More satisfied.
I scramble to yank the nightgown down, nearly tripping over my discarded dress in my haste. The linen twists around my arms and I wrestle with it desperately, mortification burning through every nerve.
"You said—you were supposed to?—"
"I turned around." His voice carries too much amusement. "As commanded."
My legs tangle in the bedsheet as I dive onto the mattress, burrowing under the blanket and pulling it up to my chin. The fabric does nothing to cool the scorching heat in my cheeks.
"That's cheating," I hiss into the pillow.
"I fulfilled the letter of your instruction precisely." He still faces the window, shoulders relaxed. "You should be more specific with demons, Ilyra."
The way he says my name—low and deliberate—sends an entirely different kind of warmth curling through my stomach.
I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for the earth to open up and swallow me whole.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
The certainty in those three words makes my breath catch.
"I can leave," he offers again, still with a hint of amusement in his voice.
Silence settles. My heartbeat gradually slows from its frantic gallop. The embarrassment begins to fade into something softer, stranger. Almost like...
I peek out from under the blanket.
"Stay. Please."
Azrathiel has moved to the far corner, settling into the shadows like he belongs there. His eyes catch the candlelight—watching, always watching.
But not threatening. Not cruel.
Just... present.
He nods, and I feel my body relax, sinking into the old mattress. I pull the new cloak, which only could have been left by him last night, up to my cheeks and fall asleep with the scent of Azrathiel wrapped around me.
16
AZRATHIEL
The Undercity reeks of desperation and rotting ambition.
I step through shadow into a narrow alcove where three dark elves huddle over a table of trade ledgers. House Vyrenth. Minor. Dispensable.
The eldest jerks his head up, violet eyes widening.
"Lord—"