Page 24 of Tricky Princess
She leaned back in her chair, one too large but very cozy. Looking out the window, she took a moment to think it over. What would she need to learn first?
“Kings.”
Ellea’s brain hurt. She’d left Azzy’s sitting room a few hours ago, but her head was still swimming with all she’d learned. He’d told her about the rules, how the kings were appointed, and how the dead lived—well, how they spent their days. The one thing she couldn’t wrap her head around was how Hel had four kings, but Azzy had the final say in everything. The other three had their own domains, but the Gods had given him the most power. Before the heirs were born, there had been several attempts to overthrow him, mostly by Beelzebub and once by Sonneillon, the twins’ mother. But old age seemed to have settled things.
Azzy barely looked forty, with only a small amount of gray hair and just a hint of wrinkles arounds his hazel eyes. Even he could die, though, or retire as the Gods had. How long would it be until Ros had to take his father’s place? Five hundred years? A thousand? Gods, her head hurt. She hadn’t slept well either, which wasn’t helpful. Back in her room, she’d found a note from Florence. It said to be ready to leave during the witching hour. That was all. She had no idea what she needed to be ready for, but she dressed in a black shirt, leggings, boots, and tucked a dagger into her waistband. Nothing good could come from a three-in-the-morning meeting, so simple clothing seemed best. Unless she was taking her to some orgy, but she doubted that.
Ellea peeked up from her book as the door opened silently. A whisper of shadow beckoned her to come out. They were soft and silent, unlike Duhne’s storm-cloud shadows, or Ros’ strong, solid ones. She stopped her thoughts as they started drifting toward the wicked things they did. She crept toward the door and poked her head out. Florence was leaning against the opposite wall, waiting.
Ellea shrugged at her and whispered, “Why are you being creepy?”
Florence only gave her a smirk and a nod, gesturing for her to follow.
Demons.
Ellea shook her head but followed, doing her best to mimic the demon’s silent feet. She was jealous of how gracefully she slunk around the halls, her shadows opening doors. These halls were less decorated than the others she’d seen, as though they were going through the servants’ quarters. And they were endless. She was about to ask what the plan was when Florence opened a door to a room instead of another hallway.
“Florence,” Ellea hissed.
She only shushed her and led them to a balcony shrouded in shadows. Florence pulled her down behind the ornate railing, and they both crouched there. Ellea was about to protest when she heard slurping and sucking sounds coming from the neighboring room. She glared, and Florence rolled her eyes. She brought her delicate hand to her ear. Listen.
Ellea mouthed gross, and Florence gave her a wicked grin, but agreed with a nod of her head.
“You like sucking a prince’s prick?”
Bile crept up Ellea’s throat. Not only was that the dumbest thing she’d ever heard, it was fucking Belias getting a blow job.
Fucking Belias.
An even more horrendous, muffled giggle sounded as the ass-hat came to a sad finish. Someone knocked on the door. Had Belias even given the girl a moment to clean up? She shot Florence a look, and they both seemed to think the same thing.
Sad and gross.
Florence perked up when the visitor began talking.
“Belias, I got your message. I do not know how many times I need to tell you in a day, but your spell is holding.”
“So we won’t get any visitors?”
“Yes, as I told you hours ago.”
Someone strode across the room with loud, clipped steps. “But how long will it hold?”
Belias’ voice grated on her skin, and she had to hold back the urge to jump onto his balcony and stab him in the face.
The visitor huffed a sigh. “As long as it needs to. And before you ask, no one else is getting in or out.”
“Good. You’re dismissed.”
She shooed her blood lust to the side and tried to understand what they were talking about. Spell? No one getting in or out? But the visitor cut in.
“Learn some respect, Belias, I will only play your games for so long.”
“You will play my games as long as I say so. It won’t take long before—”
“They are games; don’t think I believe your crusade will be fruitful.”
Before Belias could snark back, the visitor left the room. The door slamming shut made Ellea jump, and Florence grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her from the room and back to the servants’ hallway.
