Page 36 of The Devil's Trials

“Your first trial commences now,” he says, handing over a glass of dark amber liquid. “Drink the poison and face what lies on the other side.”

I take the glass without hesitation, glancing over at Blake, who looks less than pleased. To be fair, I’m not thrilled about it either, but with the power zipping through my veins, at least I’m at my strongest.

Blake takes my arm, pulling me away from any prying eyes. We find a quiet spot along the side of the haunted barn, and I bring the glass to my lips. The liquid is thick and bitter on my tongue, and I force it down with a hard swallow.

It makes my throat tingle and my gut fill with heat. The night air feels cooler as my vision blurs, and I barely hear Blake wish me luck before reality slips from my grasp.

A dim hallway materializes around me, and after a few moments of my limbs feeling like static, the ground solidifies beneath my feet.

I stand in the doorway of an unfamiliar bedroom, but I know exactly where I am. My eyes find her immediately, standing at a dark window with her back to me and wearing a long-sleeved light gray pajama set. “Camille.”

She whirls around to face me, her expression pale with shock as I walk into the room, stopping a few feet from her. “Xander,” she breathes, and her features sharpen. “How did you get in here?”

I open my mouth to explain, but stop myself before the words form. I glance around the room, searching for something to confirm if this is a dreamscape, or a hallucination brought on by the royal guard’s poison.

“You need to leave,” she insists, snaring my attention again. “If he sees you—”

“Who?” I cut in sharply.

She blinks, folding her arms over her chest. “Noah. He’s in the shower.”

Those words shouldn’t feel like a dagger to the gut, but they steal my breath just as viciously. My molars grind as I bite back a growl, stepping closer to Camille.

“Come with me,” I tell her in a low voice.

Her lips fall into a frown. “Where?” She shakes her head as if to herself. “No. No, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

I cock my head to the side, searching her gaze. “But you want to.”

Her pulse ticks up. “I don’t.”

Before I can call out her lie, the doorknob rattles across the room, and we both turn to face it. I clench my hands into fists, straightening and preparing to take on the hunter.

Except when the door opens, it isn’t Noah.

I clench my jaw, my head spinning as I fumble for words. Only one falls out. “Mother.”

The late queen of hell glides forward, her black eyes locked on me, and says nothing. She’s dressed in a floor-length crimson gown, her dark hair pin straight. Her appearance is flawless, as always. Which is unsettling for so many reasons.

The most prominent being the last time I saw her, she was a pile of ashes at my feet.

This is a hallucination, then. That much I know for certain.

Still, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

Lucia’s eyes flick between me and Camille before she sighs. “Cleaning up your mess, as usual, my son.”

I grab her wrist before she can make a move toward Camille, recoiling inwardly from the ice-cold feel of it against my fingers. “I don’t need you to do that. I’m handling it.”

She laughs, and I stiffen at the condescending sound. “You’re ‘handling it’?” she echoes, shaking her head. “You’ll never be able to do what needs to be done when it comes to her, Xander. The human girl will be your weakness as long as she’s breathing.”

Camille stays silent, her expression unreadable. Nothing but the rapid beat of her heart gives away her fear of the situation. Which makes me think that perhaps Camille is experiencing this trial alongside me. And if this is real for her, if the royal guard is somehow controlling her dreamscape. That puts her in very real danger.

“I did what needed to be done, which is why you’re no longer here.”

Her eyes narrow, and she pulls her wrist free. “You believe yourself strong enough to sit on my throne?” Moving at preternatural speed, she grabs Camille, sinking her nails into her throat, making Camille yelp in pain and gasp for air. “Prove it.”

No sooner are the words out of her mouth does an obsidian dagger materialize in my hand. I glance down at it, my jaw working.

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