Lord of the Night

Chapter 16: The Prince's Property

Isalio strode toward the exit without stopping to check if I was following. I glanced at the two open walls where rain still poured in. What would happen if I made a run for it? How many steps could I make before Isalio would strike me down like he had done to the Farmer—or before another Demon decided to make me their next feast?

A snort drew my attention to the Duchess, who eyed me with a strange intensity. "Follow him, Guardian," she said dryly. "If you run now, you'll only make any future escape harder." Then she spun back toward the table to count her pile of coins.

The moment she turned her back, heads swiveled in my direction. My skin tingled with the glow of amber eyes. Could they smell my lifeforce?

I had no idea what the Duchess's motives were, but she was likely right: if I tried to escape right now, I would only create a scene and anger my captor. To have any chance at escaping, I needed to play at obedience until the right moment. And while my body refused to bow to him, I could at least follow.

More Demons wheeled toward me as I passed, noses raised and fangs and claws bared. Then their eyes darted to the High Prince, and they dissipated back into the crowd.

Isalio did not stop until he had opened the door. He stepped back and held the door open for me in a gesture that might have passed as chivalrous if not for the steel in his eyes and the arch of his brow.

Chivalrous, until I made one wrong move.

I wasn't sure I could return his gaze with anything resembling submission, so I ducked my head low as I passed him.

I had just passed through the exit when a hand snagged my forearm. I flinched, anticipating penetrating claws. With a strange combination of relief and disgust, I realized that the hand belonged to Isalio, and that my life force remained intact.

He yanked his hand away from my arm as though he had touched something vile. His gaze never met mine, instead fixed on the space just past the door. There, the two Demon soldiers he had ordered to leave minutes ago bowed low in greeting.

"High Prince," they murmured.

He tilted his chin high and folded his arms over his chest. His still-damp dress shirt and jeans clung to lean, unforgiving muscles, and his posture oozed annoyance and command. I could no longer spot any trace of the naughty child who had addressed the Duchess moments ago.

"Oh, I'm sorry—I must be confused," he said. "I thought I told you to leave...?"

The red-haired Demon gulped. "You did, Highness, but we wish to protect you."

Isalio arched a single sleek brow. "Oh, really? Do I look like I need protection?"

The other Demon fiddled with his pointy black beard. "No, Highness, but the General commanded us to return."

"Hmm." Isalio stroked his chin as if in contemplation, but the look in his eyes sent both soldiers teetering back a step. "And, just to clarify...which order holds more power? Mine, or the General's?"

The first Demon found her voice once more. "We reminded him that your commands outrank his, but then he called upon the Queen and King..."

"They weren't too busy, after all?" Isalio's brows furrowed a little, but his voice remained disconcertingly pleasant. "How shocking."

"They were worried that this Guardian could hurt you, Highness."

"They were worried," Isalio repeated, "that a single, pathetic cow...could hurt me?"

I tried to ignore the stabbing in my chest, not because his words were harsh but because he was right. Injured, cuffed, and surrounded by Demons, I was utterly alone and undeniably pathetic.