Page 15 of Not Today, Satan
I jam the button down on my clock and groan.
I’m supposed to start my lesson on manipulating fire in twenty minutes. But there’s no way I’ll sit still while Mr. Bellum rambles on about controlling my emotions, when all I can think about is Attero and that photo and whether he’s taken it to Father.
Changing into a red crushed-velvet dress, I study myself in the mirror.
My hair still covers the budding wings enough that I don’t think anyone will ask questions. I straighten my shoulders in the mirror and take a deep breath.
I can do this.
Father’s quarters are across a bridge and a twenty-minute walk—uphill—from my own. His house is surrounded by a garden of red roses with flickering flames in their centers, located at the highest point of Hell.
Climbing the hill is a bitch, and my legs and lungs ache by the time I reach the top.
At least the walk keeps me from focusing on the nerves clawing at my throat.
I haven’t seen Father since my birthday. He tends to avoid me as much as possible. The only reason he threw me a party was to tell me he was leaving me for good. Typical.
Father’s quarters loom larger as I approach, the red sky shadowing the peaks of stone that form a crooked castle. Souldiers line the path, but they pay me no heed as I cross in front of them. They remain rigid as the rocks around us.
I’m almost at the door, panting and wiping the sweat behind my neck, when one of the souldiers steps forward.
“He’s not in there, Your Highness. He’s out on business.” The helmet amplifies the familiar voice.
My breath hitches. “Attero?”
He flicks up the black visor and frowns. “Don’t you have class?”
“What?” I curl my fingers into fists. “This wasyouridea, remember? You insisted I talk to my dad.”
I step around him, but he blocks my path. “It was my idea when I thought you were having trouble understanding your job, Devica. Before learning you’re helping a shadeling.”
His words slam into my chest with the force of a punch. He’s still upset with me. And he’s concluded for himself what that picture means.
“I’m not helping anyone, Attero. His photo ended up in my pocket by accident, and I forgot it was even there. Then, after he broke into my room, I remembered I had it. I was going to bring it to Father for a second opinion. That’s all.”
Attero grabs my elbow and pulls me from the other souldiers. He speaks in a low and controlled voice I’ve never heard from him before. “Devica, I found the prisoner in your room. You were sprawled on your bed—in a nightgown, I might add—with him on top of you.”
I wrench out of his grip and look away so he can’t see the blush creeping up my neck. “I know how it looks, but I swear he burst in on me. I was only trying to prove he’s guilty so he’d leave me alone. I want nothing to do with him. Or any shadeling, for that matter.”
Attero sighs. He studies me, then glances over his shoulder. When he’s sure none of the other souldiers are watching, he pulls the photo out of his pocket and slips it between my fingers. “I was going to show this to your father and tell him what I saw last night, but he wasn’t here. To be honest, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to go through with it. I’m not Ferus, Devica. I don’t need power over you. I just want you to be safe. But I trust you. I know you’ll do the right thing.”
My knees buckle with relief.
I can still fix this.
“Thanks, Atty.” I lean in to hug him but stop myself when his body goes rigid. He eyes the souldiers around us, now staring. I stash the photo in the bodice of my dress before nodding at my friend. “I appreciate it. I promise that shadeling will have nothing to do with me or my bedroom after today. I’m gonna go in and wait for Father. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ve already walked up that damn hill. I’m not doing it again.”
Attero bows his head. “Good luck, Dev. I hope he helps.”
He shuffles back to the line of souldiers as I ascend the steps to the main door. The steel is heavy and groans in protest as I yank it open.
I’m in an empty lobby, made entirely of onyx. A single torch burns in the center of the room, surrounded by tall pillars that disappear overhead. My steps echo off the walls as I walk down the hall to Father’s room.
His chambers are five times the size of mine.
The hickory scent of charred wood and burning debris fragrance the warm air. Yet there are no visible flames in the vicinity. Only the lingering scent of the being who occupies this space.
I stand in the middle of the room with my hands on my hips.
