Page 127 of The Devil's Trials

Gio continues to cook for me and makes conversation that makes me feel almost normal, but the reason I’m here having these conversations always exists in the back of my mind, same with the nagging concern about what’s going to happen if Xander doesn’t pass the trial—or if he does.

I’m sitting at the dining room table across from Gio trying to convince myself to pick up my fork and eat despite the swirling unease in my stomach making me feel queasy. He put in the effort to make a perfectly fluffy quiche with a flaky, buttery crust, and I feel bad I’m just pushing bits of it around my plate.

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” he says in a gentle voice.

Glancing up, I meet his friendly gaze. “Yeah.” I take a small sip of my water. “Will you know when it happens? Like how all the demons felt when the queen died?”

He considers it for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think so. The trials are a technicality the royal guard implemented. We felt when the previous monarch died because that was the change in power. Though if for some reason Xander wasn’t taking the throne, I suppose we might feel that.” He offers a small smile. “This hasn’t happened in quite some time. The change in power, I mean. And it’s never happened like this before.” He chuckles softly. “Of course Xander had to go and do something unprecedented so none of us can figure out what the hell is going to happen next.” Gio’s tone is fond, but I get the underlying concern in his words.

“You’ve known him for a while then?”

“We go way back.”

I chew the inside of my cheek, running my finger through the condensation on my water glass. “Do you think taking the throne will change him? I know he lost his soul when he killed Lucia, but there’s still part of him that’s, I don’t know…”

“Human?” He offers.

My heart is still human and it remains yours.

My cheeks flush, and I give a halfhearted shrug. Gio’s nice, but I’m not about to sit here and talk about my relationship with Xander with him.

Gio sighs. “Xander has always toed the line in that regard.”

“What line would that be?”

“Good and evil,” he says simply. “He’s struggled with humanity for as long as I’ve known him. I thought the absence of a soul would eliminate that but it seems not.”

I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say but it wasn’t that. “Right,” I mumble. Instead of pretending like I’m going to eat, I push my plate away and stand. “Thanks for breakfast.”

His eyes flick from my plate to my face, and he smiles. “Of course. Can I make you something else?”

My stomach drops, and I rush to say, “Oh no, that’s okay.” I feel bad for leaving my food untouched. “Sorry, I’m just not really hungry right now.” I push my chair in, picking up my plate to take it to the kitchen. “I’ll, um, see you later.”

I retreat to the bedroom, slipping into the en suite bathroom and turning the shower as hot as it’ll go before undressing and getting under the waterfall shower head.

Steam fills the room with a hazy warmth as I use too much of the stupid expensive shampoo, conditioner, and body wash until my hair and skin smell and feel incredible.

It’s only once the water gets cooler that I shut off the shower and get out. Exhaling a long breath, I wrap a towel around my hair and another around my body. I wipe the fog off the mirror and lean against the vanity, my head swimming from the heat.

I take my time dressing in comfy light gray joggers and a black crewneck sweater, combing my hair and applying body lotion, because self-care—I may be spiraling a little, but at least my skin is soft.

I pass the afternoon with an extended nap and a call to Harper, who reassures me she’ll be here as soon as she can.

When my stomach grumbles around dinner time, I figure I should head downstairs and try to eat something.

I walk out to the hallway and nearly collide with someone just outside the door. Reeling back, my gaze shoots up to meet the most striking eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Um, hi,” I stutter, taking in the rest of her otherworldly stunning appearance. She’s tall and well-toned from what I can see. Her hair is long and shiny, falling in loose waves past her breasts, accentuated by the vest style top she’s wearing, paired with high waisted dress pants and impressive heels.

The stranger looks me over, her gaze calculating. “You must be Xander’s little human houseguest. Caitlin, right?”

I arch a brow, pulse still racing. “Camille,” I correct. “And you are?”

“Francesca,” she says. “Council member and Xander’s oldest friend.”

That sparks something in me I choose to ignore. “I thought Blake was his oldest friend.”

Francesca chuckles. “Yes, well, Blake has never slept with him, so I think I still win.”

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