the book in Miranda’s library. “But … what are the demon shadows? Are they sick demons?”
It was Taran who answered this question, taking Donna by surprise. “No. The shadows are all that remain of the humans we sacrificed in each tithe.”
“The Tithe to Hell,” Donna whispered, her mind racing.
Cathal nodded, taking up the story. “The tithe is how the demons swell their own ranks. Demons cannot procreate.”
“Which is why they want the Stone,” Donna said.
“But,” continued Cathal, “what I want to know is this: why is Aliette Winterthorn here? What does the dying Court of Earth have to gain by being part of these negotiations?”
Aliette sat up straighter in her chair. “I was invited by the king of the demons. That is all you need to know, cousin.”
The way she said the word “cousin” left Donna in no doubt that the Wood Queen wasn’t speaking fondly to a family member.
Demian waved a hand in the air, as though dismissing their argument as nothing more than a petty annoyance. “The wood elves are here—as are you, representatives of Faerie—to resume payment of the tithe you owe me and mine.”
The Wood Queen drummed her woody fingers on the table so hard that Donna thought they might splinter. She didn’t look happy to have Demian telling everybody her business.
Taran gazed at Aliette, his blue eyes bright with curiosity and disdain. “Why would you be willing to pay the tithe again? Trying to ingratiate yourself with the demons so that you can return to Faerie?”
The Wood Queen turned away from the dark-haired knight, fixing her attention on one of the blood-stained paintings hanging from the wall.
Demian answered for her with questions of his own. “And why are you here, Taran? Why would Queen Isolde agree to send two of her knights to my gathering? Perhaps you should think on that. Perhaps you should think about what you all owe me.”
The two men of Faerie exchanged a glance filled with foreboding, but before Donna could find out more, her mother put her cup down with a clatter.
“Enough of these riddles,” she said. “We have not resolved the issue of the Stone. You have demanded something of the alchemists that is simply not possible.”
Demian turned to face her. “You are telling me that the alchemists cannot make the Philosopher’s Stone—and you expect me to believe that?”
Rachel shook her head. “You’re turning the most complicated thing in the world into something simple.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What good are you, if you cannot make the thing you were born to make?
“It’s the timing that makes your demand truly impossible,” Rachel sighed. “Nobody can make the Stone in a matter of days. It can’t even be done in weeks. You need to give us more time, at the very least.”
Demian’s expression didn’t change. “You have received all the time I am willing to give: no more and no less. I believe Donna Underwood is capable of greater things than your limited human minds can comprehend.”
Donna shifted in her seat and stared at him, trying to match his steady gaze. “While I am … interested to learn that you have such faith in me, Your Majesty, I don’t know how to create the Philosopher’s Stone. Let alone how to do it in forty-eight hours.”
“Ah, you have so little belief in yourself. In your power. I can see it from here, shining inside you. Do you understand what you’re capable of? You could—”
Simon cut him off. “This girl is untrained. Untested. She’s a danger to us all!”
Demian made a slashing motion with his hand, and although Simon’s lips continued to move, no sound came out. The demon smiled. “Much better.”
Miranda half-rose from her seat. “This is a neutral space. You cannot harm us here.”
Demian seemed genuinely puzzled. “I didn’t harm him. I merely rendered him less … bothersome.”
Donna swallowed a trickle of slightly crazed laughter. She shouldn’t find anything the Demon King did funny, but it was hard not to enjoy the fact that someone had the ability to shut Simon up so effectively. And she was so filled with a numbing sense of terror, it helped to grab hold of any passing emotions just to ground herself.
Simon, meanwhile, realized what Demian had done and had stopped even attempting to speak. His face was stark white with impotent rage. Donna smirked.
Her mother caught the expression and frowned at her.
Miranda had taken her seat again. The two faery knights appeared bemused by the disturbance. Aliette simply looked bored.
Demian leaned back in his