close.”
My lower lip quivered. Ducking my head, I pushed my glasses above my eyes and wiped my face with my sleeve to hide my humiliation.
“Did it talk to you? What did it say?” His voice sharpened with urgency and I cowered away from him. He tightened his arm around me. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know any better. Demons can be very manipulative.”
I nodded numbly, staring at my feet as the trembling subsided.
He drew me toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here before Dad gets back.”
I forced my head up. “You won’t tell him?”
“No, I won’t tell Dad or Claude, but … Robin, if the demon spoke, I need to know what it said.”
Cold prickles washed over me. How could I tell him anything about my conversations with Zylas? Not that I cared to protect the demon—not anymore—but I didn’t want to incriminate myself. Travis waited expectantly for my reply.
“I heard … whispering,” I invented. “I went over to try to hear, but the words … weren’t English.”
Pursing his lips, Travis led me up the stairs. “The demon should be able to speak English. The language rite was the first thing we did.” At my blank look, he added, “A series of spells that imparts the basics of our language to the demon. Without it, negotiations would be impossible.”
So that was how Zylas knew English.
“Maybe it was?” I revised hastily. “I couldn’t really hear.”
“Huh.” He walked me to my room. At the door, he smiled wanly. “You’re lucky you got out of there in one piece.”
So, so lucky. Lucky that Travis had come down when he had. Lucky that Zylas had hesitated and he’d loosened his grip. Lucky that I’d reacted fast enough to escape.
“But,” he added, “how many times have you been in the library? Has the demon tried to get your attention before? Have you ever—”
“No,” I cut in, too shaken for politeness. “That was the only time. Thanks for your help.”
Shoving away a flash of embarrassment over my rudeness, I closed the door on him. Weak and cold, I walked woodenly to my bed and sat on the edge, staring at the wall.
Zylas was a demon. He was famished, dying, isolated, and ten weeks into torturous confinement. He had a day or two left to live—and I’d offered myself on a silver platter. I’d given him the chance to get me, and he’d taken it. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.
He was a demon. He’d obeyed his nature. Profoundly immoral and wicked … an apt description of the demonic psyche.
I knew that. I understood it.
I still felt betrayed.
Most of all, I felt like the biggest fool on the planet. A bleeding heart, like Amalia had said. I’d thought, in his own demony way, Zylas saw me as an ally, or at least an odd, annoying cohort in his lonely imprisonment.
So unbelievably naïve.
I flopped onto my bed, exhausted and wrung dry. As my eyelids grew heavy, I lifted my hand and stared at it, remembering Zylas’s clawed fingers sliding so carefully across my delicate skin.
What does your blood look like, payilas?
Shuddering, I rolled onto my face and hoped, cruelly, selfishly, that Zylas wouldn’t survive the night. If he died before morning, I would never have to think about him again.
Chapter Twelve
At a knock on my door, I closed the self-help book I was reading in the hopes of learning not to be an impulsive, naïve idiot. So far, it wasn’t helping.
The knock sounded again and I sat up in my bed. “Yes?”
My door cracked open. Travis stuck his head in. “Hey.”
Warmth rushed into my cheeks and I surreptitiously slid the blankets higher. I wasn’t wearing a bra under my tank top. “What’s wrong?”
“I just want to check on you.” He crossed to my bed. I couldn’t tell if he did it on purpose, but he swung the door hard enough that it clacked shut behind him. Dropping onto the foot of my bed, he grinned at me. “How are you feeling after that scare? Did you sleep okay?”
“Pretty well,” I mumbled. Post-adrenaline exhaustion could do that. I didn’t mention that I’d woken up at 6:30 a.m. from a nightmare involving Zylas, the circle, and my gory death. I’d been reading in bed ever since, afraid to go back to sleep.
“That’s good.” He cleared his throat. “While I’m here … I’ve been meaning to apologize. Amalia told me you aren’t a summoner or an apprentice or anything. I’m sorry I bought into Dad’s bullshit