“Ah, Rowan.” Orion’s eyes twinkled as he crossed to me over the rocks, graceful as ever. “You don’t remember what happens if the first trial is a draw?”
My throat tightened, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You get to choose the next trial.”
A lock of silver hair fell before his eyes, and he nodded. He leaned down, speaking quietly enough that only I could hear. “But when I win, love, you could be my queen. And we will protect the demons together.”
I felt my cheeks heat again. Seductive bastard that he was, he made it sound so damned appealing, even as we stood here among the blood and the windblown ashes of two powerful witches.
24
ROWAN
When the trial ended, I’d returned to Orion’s house. I’d changed into leggings and a T-shirt, then turned off my phone and closed the shutters.
In the darkness, I’d let a deep sleep wash over me. I’d dreamt of the green-eyed boy, crouching to watch ants on a sidewalk with his hands on his knees. I’d dreamt of him making cookies and eating the sugar off the table. I’d dreamt of him drawing a picture with vigorous scribbles and burbling narration about a battle between the demons and the mortals, blood staining the streets—speaking of things a child should never have seen…
By the time I woke, the sun was already setting, and rosy light slanted at an angle through the wooden slats. Disappointing, yes.
But I wasn’t done yet. One more trial. I hoped.
As soon as Orion announced what it would be, I’d start preparing.
Sitting up in bed, I surveyed the darkened room, my stomach rumbling sharply. I had no doubt my phone would be blowing up with text messages from Shai, but I didn’t want to look at them. I didn’t want to face the disappointment of my little team who’d been helping me all this time. And what could I say that they didn’t already know? The news must have spilled through the streets as soon as the trial had ended.
I rose from the bed and opened the shutters.
The sun had dipped low and the sky darkened to indigo. The night’s subtlety was much prettier than the garish daylight.
As much as I wanted to stay in here, hunger was compelling me out of my room. But to my delight, when I opened my door, I found that Amon had left a tray outside for me—slices of chicken breast, roasted baby carrots, and buttered cauliflower. A small flagon of wine and a glass stood on the tray next to the food.
Perfect.
I ate by the desk, staring out onto the dark garden. I had no idea what to make of everything—the fact that assassins kept reporting Orion wanted me dead, and then Orion would swoop in to save me. But if he were going to have me killed, surely, he’d make damn sure the assassins didn’t keep telling me about it. Leaving a bunch of stupid loose ends wasn’t his style.
I sipped my wine and drummed my fingertips on the desk. If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said that clearly, his incubus charm had scrambled my brain, that I was ignoring the obvious. That Occam’s razor would say it was just Orion trying to take me down.
As I stared outside, I saw him cross into the garden and sit on a stone bench, his shoulders slumped. The boughs of an apple tree arched over him. I watched him as he pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping blood off his hands, staining the white cloth red.
Cool. Yeah, not suspicious at all.
With dread crawling up my spine, I turned to head downstairs and into the salty night air. I’d drunk the wine quickly, but the buzz had worn off with the sight of blood. When I crossed into the garden, his head snapped up, the masculine beauty of his face cast in silver.
“Have you been…murdering people all day?” I asked.
He tossed down the bloodied rag on the bench next to him. “Have you been sleeping all day, Shadow Scion?”
“Hell, yes.” I sat down on the bench next to him. “Whose blood is that?”
“Someone from our great city has been passing along information to the Malleus Daemoniorum, which is how the demon hunters know you’re in here. I caught some hunters probing for weaknesses in our defenses, trying to find a way inside. Someone gave them a clue where to start. Someone with information about our magical signature.”
“And if the demon hunters broke down our wards and walls?” I asked. “We could kill them before our magic faded.”
“The mortals have missiles. If they obliterate our city walls and vaporize us with their weapons, we’d never have time to recover. We’d simply die.”
A shudder rippled over me. “The demon hunters are very influential, unfortunately. They’ve been donating to politicians for ages, buying power.”