Page 2 of The Devil's Trials

“Liar.” He sighs. “Just hang on. I’m taking you back to Seattle. I have a place there no one knows about. We’ll go there and come up with a plan to figure this shit out.”

Figure this shit out.

“I killed the queen, Blake,” I say in a detached voice, swallowing the bile burning my throat.

He nods. “I was there.”

“We both know what that means. What comes next.”

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Maybe not.”

“There’s no running from this. Unless I want to face treason for killing my own mother, I don’t have a choice.”

His only response is a quiet sigh as the dark sky outside opens to a steady rain. Thunder claps through the air in between flashes of lightning, and Blake puts on music as we get closer to Seattle, quiet enough that we can still speak, though neither of us do.

Instead, I replay the last moments of my mother’s life. I should feel sad or guilty over being the one to end her life. But the only emotion that registers is regret, and it has less to do with killing her and more to do with the consequences of it.

I’ve been heir to the throne for as long as I’ve been alive, but if I’m honest, I never truly considered the day I would come into the position. Lucia wasn’t going to vacate it for at least a century, and by that time, I would’ve come up with a plan to get out of taking her place.

“What’s going through your head?” Blake’s voice brings me out of the haze, and I blink a few times before clearing my throat.

“I’m trying to process…everything.”

He glances sideways at me for a moment before returning his attention to the road, where he speeds up to change lanes. “Talk to me.”

Scratching the stubble along my jaw, I admit, “I don’t know where to start.”

Blake nods, pausing before he asks, “Were you planning to kill Lucia all along?”

Part of me bristles at that, but another, newly stronger part nearly purrs at the idea. It calls to me, promising to quiet the unpleasant emotions warring in my chest.

“No.” Dragging a hand through my hair, I exhale a heavy breath. “When I saw her hand wrapped around Camille’s throat, something in me broke. I’ve never felt fear like that. I lost control of myself and acted on instinct. I couldn’t let Camille die, and I was prepared to do anything to ensure her safety.”

Blake adjusts his grip on the wheel before his words pierce the space between us. “Including sacrificing your own soul.”

I nod without a word.

Killing my mother to save Camille…it shattered my soul.

“You notice the change, don’t you? You’re a full demon now.”

Another nod.

“What’s it feel like?”

Wetting my lips, I tell him, “A space in my chest where I know something used to be but isn’t anymore. It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it’s new and uncomfortable. And considering I’ve never heard of a demon getting their soul back, I’d say it’s pretty much a done deal, so I need to get used to it.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

I shrug, grimacing at the flare of discomfort in my chest. “I made the choice. I have to face the consequences.”

“I’m fucking sorry, mate. I really thought we had a fighting chance.”

“Yeah,” I say, “so did I.” My chest tightens, restlessness making my knee bounce as I stare forward and swallow against the tingling sensation in my throat. The uneven tick of my pulse tells me I should feel something, like uncertainty or fear—and perhaps there are subtle hintsof both weaving through my rib cage—but those emotions seem to be ebbing away.

I stare out at the traffic in front of us as the wipers clear the rain falling on the windshield.

The drive back to Seattle offers too much time to think. To come up with scenarios of what’s going to happen next. What Camille is going to do.

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