Page 43 of To Dwell in Shadows
Slowly, the great hand lowered the mirrored pyramid until it settled perfectly over her brain, enclosing it entirely. Then the hand twisted the pyramid, locking it into place. Keeping her brain and everything in it safe and protected.
“I see it,” Selene breathed.
“Good,” Thema said, approvingly.
“Does it really work?”
“Try it,” Thema replied, rising gracefully to her feet. “The next time you walk freely in this realm. Don’t wait until you’re under attack.”
“I will. Thank you.”
At that moment, the Eventide bells rang out, making Zetta’s ears perk up. Selene looked down at the hellhound and said, “I guess it’s time to take you back, girl.”
Queen Thema stood and yawned. “I should be getting back to my room as well. I’ve missed my afternoon nap and am feeling the effects.”
“Thank you for your help. I feel much better.”
“Good. And thankyoufor bringing me along on this journey.”
“Have you had fun reconnecting with Lamia?”
“Oh, immensely,” Thema said, her smile turning nostalgic. “We squabble, of course, as sisters do, but it’s been wonderful to see her again.”
Zetta let out a low whine and nudged Selene’s hand.
“All right, then. Let’s get you to the kennels,” Selene said.
She walked Queen Thema to the door, then continued down the corridor with Zetta trotting faithfully at her side. When they reached the kennels, Zetta padded into her pen without protest, tail wagging at the pile of raw meat waiting for her.
Selene lingered at the gate, her hand resting on the cool metal as she weighed her next move. She wasn’t hungry, and the nap had left her feeling oddly wired. A hollow ache pressed behind her ribs. She was desperate to see Sam after everything that had happened. But she didn’t want to bother him. And truthfully, she didn’t even know where he was in the palace.
What she did know was that she wasn’t ready to be alone with her thoughts. Not tonight. What she needed was a distraction.
Then she remembered: the library was just a short walk away. If she couldn’t escape the mysteries of the Underworld, at least she could escape into a pile of books.
Chapter 22
Sam kicked a loose stone along the path to the royal dining room. It had been over two weeks since they arrived in the Underworld, and he’d barely seen Selene. It was making him irritable.
When he wasn’t training in the Sanctum, he was being pulled into one royal duty after another. Though no one wanted to speak of the Dark Sovereign when he brought it up, it was clear his parents were preparing him for it. They insisted he observe and take part in every aspect of court life. So far, he’d presided alongside his father at a ceremony honoring the demons of Wrath, signed a decree legalizing nudity in the Chapel of Mourning, and sat through several meals with distant relatives he barely remembered.
Most nights, when he finally crawled into bed around midnight, he and Selene could only exchange a few words before she drifted back to sleep. Once, she’d forced herself to rise at dawn to catch a moment with him, saying something about her sister, but an imp had interrupted them, claiming urgent royal business. For all the supposed privileges of being a prince, Sam was growing bitter that he hadn’t managed to carve out even an hour for himself.
And now, his mother wanted to have dinner with him privately.
A demoness bowed as she passed, and Sam gave a curt nod. As much as he had resented being feared by the Aurelians, being revered by demons was worse. Every word, gesture, and expression seemed to invite commentary and exaggerated praise—especially from Vanthee, who never seemed far from his side.
When Sam pulled open the doors to the royal dining room, he was surprised to see the space dark. A large blanket had been spread in the corner of the room, and Queen Lamia was lighting candles around it.
“What is this?” Sam asked.
“There you are,” Queen Lamia said, turning to him with a smile. “I thought we could share a picnic on the dining room floor as we used to. Do you remember?”
When Sam was a boy, he usually took meals in the kitchen since he was too small to fit in the large dining room chairs. One night, after begging to dine with his parents, his mother had taken pity on him and moved their meal to the floor, picnic-style. This had delighted young Sam so much that it became a tradition for him and his mother on evenings when Asmodeus was engaged elsewhere.
Lamia settled herself on top of the blanket then patted the space beside her. Sam sat down. He realized he was now more than a head taller than his mother, even while sitting. On her face he could see worry lines carved between her brows and signs of age on her hands. Though she was a demi-goddess, it seemed she was not immune to the effects of time.
Lamia gazed out the windows into the night-blooming garden while Sam adjusted the clasp of his boot. This was the first time they had been truly alone since his return, and each seemed unsure of what to say.
