Page 74 of The Devil's Trials

This isn’t real.

I’m dreaming.

It doesn’t matter. I’m not about to let this monster get the best of me.

He cackles maniacally. “You have no idea what you’re in for, princess.”

I grit my teeth against the nausea swirling in my gut and fight the urge to roll my eyes at the cliché line.

Thunder crashes overhead, and I suck in a breath. The demon uses that opportunity to advance once more, but I refuse to let myself lose focus, even as the skies open and rain pours down on me, chilling me to the core. As soon as he gets close enough, I aim for his rotted heart as I slam the dagger into his chest for the second time.

He snarls in pain, gasping for air as rainwater spills down his cheeks and blood as black as his eyes stains the front of his shirt. Except he doesn’t turn to ash like he should.

I blink quickly through the downpour, trying to focus my vision, my panic cresting as the demon before me changes.

A scream tears its way up my throat when the demon on the other end of my dagger is no longer the unknown one I killed.

It’s Xander.

NINETEENXANDER

I’m back in Seattle less than a day and Harper is blowing up my phone with angry texts about leaving Camille alone. I admire the fierceness in which she wants to protect her best friend, and I can’t help but consider how useful that could be on my council. For many reasons once I take the throne, but also for Camille should she decide to continue living in my world.

While I may be able to convince Harper to join me, other demons won’t look too kindly upon a hunter being part of the king’s council. We’d have to keep it secret—same with our shared bloodline. I’m not even sure the rest of my council would get on board without some guarantees being made, namely that Harper won’t attempt to dagger them. While keeping it from them might be easier, I don’t want to. These people are my support system. If they don’t agree with my decisions, they are welcome to accept dismissal from my council.

There will have to be some level of mutual trust for an arrangement with Harper joining us to work, and that’ll likely be as difficult as passing the ascension trials.

Instead of brainstorming the arrangement further by myself, I type a to-the-point message to Harper and hit send.

Where are you? I want to meet.

Her reply is immediate.

And I want an all-inclusive trip to somewhere sunny. We don’t always get what we want.

I can’t help the grin curling my lips.

I do.

So fucking arrogant. What could you possibly want to meet about?

Come find out.

If I say no?

Do you really want to play this game with me?

I don’t want anything to do with you. I thought we established that already.

One step forward, three steps back.

The reason for this meeting is mutually beneficial. You have my word, Harper.

Your word means nothing.

I ignore the slice of pain that brings to my chest. It’s a flare of heartburn that tells me that I care more about what Harper thinks of me than I realized.

Give me a chance to make it mean something.

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