hand, and she passed the vial over. The memory of our hands touching—skin to skin—made heat curl low inside me. I wanted that again—to take off my gloves and touch her skin.
No.
I tore my mind from the thought and uncorked the vial. The glass vial was the kind used by the apothecary at the edge of the stone garden. Unlike other glass containers, hers were enchanted to reveal when the contents had been tampered with. I smelled it for the signature scent of candle flame that would indicate Seraphia had modified the potion, perhaps doctoring it with a sleeping potion or something else to incapacitate me.
It smelled fine. Which was good for the apothecary, as I wouldn’t have to kill her.
She arched a brow. “Trying to make sure I don’t poison you?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I didn't, as you can tell by the vial and the scent.”
I nodded and held out my hand for hers. “Now give me yours.”
She scowled and handed it over. I smelled it, then gave it back.
She took it. “Satisfied?”
“Where you are concerned? Never.”
She glared, then lifted the vial to her lips and tossed the potion back. I did the same, drinking the bitter liquid without hesitation.
“Well, that’s that.” She dusted off her hands and put the glass vial back into her pocket. “What do you have to drink?”
“Whiskey.” It was one mortal invention I was fond of. I pointed to the table. “In the corner, over there.”
She went to the table, returning with a glass of whiskey and a glass of water. She handed the whiskey to me.
I raised my eyebrows. “Water for you and whiskey for me? It hardly seems fair.”
“Are you afraid?”
“No.” As with other emotions, I hadn’t felt fear in forever. Not since my last stint in Tartarus.
But that was a lie. I’d been afraid when she’d fallen into the crevasse at the Temple of Shadows.
“Then you’ll drink it,” she said. “You’re a god, after all. More powerful than a mere mortal such as myself. It will even the odds between us.”
“Fine.”
She held hers out to mine. “Cheers.”
I clinked my glass to hers, then drank deep, letting the burn trace its way down my throat.
She picked up one of the white pawns in front of her. “Shall I?”
I nodded, and she made her move. The game passed quickly from there. She was good—very good. And I hated that I liked it. What a weak thing to feel, and yet I did.
Seraphia
Damn, he was good at chess.
Really good.
I had a backup plan, of course, but I didn’t want to lose to him. Especially since I’d taken the potion that would bind me to practicing my magic with him. And he’d barely drunk any of his whiskey.
My plan wasn’t so simple as to get him drunk and wipe the floor with him at chess, though I could admit I’d hoped it would go that way.
I glanced up at the window, hoping to see Beatrix. I’d gotten lucky and found her earlier today, and she was meant to show up as a distraction. If all went as planned, I would dose his whiskey with a sleeping potion from the apothecary. I’d chosen the beverage because the strong taste would conceal the potion.
But Beatrix hadn’t shown, yet.
Come on, Beatrix. We’d agreed it would be better if I tried to win on my own. That way, Hades wouldn’t have to see her, even in bird form.
But it was looking more and more like I might lose.
Partially because it was hard to focus with him sitting so close. His firelight smell was a perfect match for the flames that flickered on the hearth. The golden glow that it cast upon his fallen-angel face made him look divine, like he was the king of the angels.
But I knew he was a monster, even if he didn’t look it. The light inside him, though… I’d felt it. He wasn’t all bad—not by a long shot.
“Why do you turn to the dark instead of the light?” I blurted, unable to help myself. It drove me crazy.
“We’ve already discussed this.” His voice turned cold, but the electric tension between us ramped up a notch.
“Yeah, but there’s more to it.”
“There is, but I won’t be sharing.”
This was the wrong course of questioning. I needed him relaxed. Drinking. Especially if I wanted a chance to slip the sleeping potion into his glass.
I switched tactics, gesturing to the books filling the shelves, wanting to distract him as much as I wanted the information. “You like to read.”