Isabelle didn’t attend today’s eting. It was the first ti she’d neglected her duties since being appointed to them. It was strange to be enjoying the crunch of snow beneath her boots instead of suffocating in that stuffy office. She pressed her back against a tree, the rough bark catching on her cloak.
She slid to the ground, the air escaping from her lungs, the breath snaking out as frigid wisps. Her finger toyed with the button on her jacket as she spaced out. As usual, the others ignored her. Workers stread by like she was part of the decor, the once-friendly acquaintances now pretending she didn’t exist.
At first, she had attributed it to her proximity with the Demon Lord. As his left hand, the attention she garnered was presumably paralyzing to the common workers. Recently, however, she’d been picking up on sothing strange. The looks they gave her as they passed…muscles tensed, brows furrowed. This wasn’t the behavior of fear. To her, it seed more like…coercion.
But who? And why? She was already antisocial, it seed counterintuitive to isolate her from friends she barely had. Albrum? It seed like sothing he’d do. Out of spite, perhaps.
Isabelle chewed on her lip, mind wandering. It would be so ti before the eting ended. Would she be scolded? Or discarded? As efficient as she was, she had little hope of her importance in the court. The Demon Lord wouldn’t lose sleep over executing a lazy assistant.
She should move. Get to work. File those papers. nd the general’s mistakes. Settle disputes. Endless, pointless. Easy, irritating. Her mind yelled at her to rise, to work. Things needed doing. People needed directing. Isabelle braced her hand against the tree to rise, but stopped short of moving.
No.
The word echoing in her head surprised her. No? Was that sothing she was allowed to say? She never had. Not to the Demon Lord. Not to the Generals. Not to the villagers that belittled her or the rchants that cheated her.
For the first ti in her life, Isabelle was putting her foot down. Help them? Tend to them? Those beings that could crush her in one hand? She supposedly had dominion over them? Could wrangle them in order? That it had worked previously was only by the grace of who stood behind her words.
That wasn’t the case now. The Demon Lord was in seclusion. No one knew why, and no one dared to ask. They’d seen the scarlet paint scattered across the throne room too many tis to offer their own in a agre attempt at curiosity.
The generals were belligerent, excepting Verinia. Praxus completely ignored her existence now, and Albrum openly mocked her. She’d been laughed out of the eting room when last she’d attended. The offending suggestion? To communicate more frequently on matters relating to the war.
Such a simple thing. Common sense. Blindingly obvious, yet utterly refused by the Demon Lord’s spawn. Isabelle bit her lip. Albrum…that pompous ass. She’d had enough. Honor in the position? Coin? She cared little. Her sanity was her currency now, spendthrift though she was.
She glanced around at the bustling workers passing her, heart clenching as each one avoided eye contact. Isabelle blinked away her tears, and rested her head on her knees. She spaced out, mind wandering, ears catching little besides the rushing blood in her head.
This little defiance. How pointless. She’d be stripped of her position, if not her head. Who would protect her? Verinia?
The woman had told Isabelle her thoughts on the matter already. If the Demon Lord ordered it, Verinia would tear her heart out and present it to her master on a silver platter.
So why was Verinia so kind to her? How could she care for sothing she’d slaughter without question?
But those worries, those doubts, faded as they always did when she heard a familiar chuckle.
“Isa…were you sick? You didn’t send notice.”
Isabelle looked up, a smile prying her mouth open. “Nia.”
Verinia smiled, helping Isabelle to her feet. She swept Isabelle into a hug, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“Yes,” Verinia said, “My na is sweeter when it cos from your tongue.”
She brushed her lips over Isabelle’s, the whispering touch tickling her.
Isabelle’s ears burned. “Here?”
“Where else?”
She pulled away from the general, her hurts not yet faded. She brushed her hair behind her ear, eting Verinia’s hungry gaze. “Later?”
The general frowned. She traced a finger over her cheek, face closing in again. “Should I not…regale you with Albrum’s report?”
Isabelle snorted. “I’m sure half of it is about my absence.”
She grinned. “You would be correct.” Verinia brought her finger to her nose and booped it. “But there is sothing you might find interesting.”
Isabelle raised an eyebrow.
“Co.”
She stared at the massive hand, the fingers wiggling in expectation.
Isabelle sighed, hiding her smile, and grasped the outstretched hand.
“Where are we going?”
“Sowhere you’ll like.”
“You’re mysterious today.”
Verinia glanced at her. “It’s a day worth celebrating.”
Celebrating? From sothing related to Albrum? The only thing Isabelle could conjure to mind that might make her smile was his funeral. Maybe he’d died when his head popped from too much hot air? Isabelle cracked a smile, the image occupying her while Verinia pulled her to her destination.
Verinia dragged her to a little-used wing on the southern side of the castle. Isabelle blinked, nose wrinkling at the dust that scattered as they walked.
“I know I like libraries, Nia, but the dust isn’t what I visit for…”
“Then you’ll be pleased with our spot.”
Her eyebrow raised, a smile creeping over her lips. Verinia was lavish with her surprises and gifts. Though most of those included wine or herself. Not that Isabelle was complaining. Couldn’t. The dark thoughts that crept into her head so often shrank at the light shining in from the general.
Isabelle’s doubts, worries, often seed of little importance in face of Verinia’s affections.
Was that a good thing? Did it loosen her, who was so tightly wound? Or did it weaken her? Did she care?
Her thoughts ended as the doors opened to Verinia’s surprise.
It was a library. Nothing special. The shelfs were stacked full of unread tos, each dustier than the one shelved next to it. The only clean thing in the room was the table they headed toward, the surface covered by boxes wrapped with ribbons, a bottle of wine, and two glasses.
Isabelle’s eyes widened. “What is this?”
She stepped forward, jaw dropping in wonder. Arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into Verinia’s soft embrace.
“Happy birthday, Isa.”
Isabelle’s heart fluttered. After being ignored all day…to think she’d rembered. Isabelle had only said it in passing so ti ago. No, Verinia had stirred the topic up. Was she planning for it?
Isabelle felt the warm tears drip down her cheeks, but couldn’t find the will to wipe them away. A hand lifted from her waist and did it for her.
A warm, teasing voice whispered into her ear. “Too much dust?”
Isabelle shook her head. “No. It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Verinia pushed her to the table, before scooting out a seat and settling Isabelle into it. She slid a glass in front of her and poured it to halfway. The crimson liquid wafted sweet tones to Isabelle’s nose, the scent enrapturing her. She’d never been one for wine. Found it too dry or too bitter. Not so for the drinks Verinia procured.
The room was silent but for the pouring splashes of wine. Isabelle opened her mouth to start a conversation. Verinia had done all of this, put all of this in place for her. She wanted to reciprocate, but how? What could they talk about?
Her brain scoured its contents, leading to the only thing sitting unfiled in her mind.
“So, what’s the news about Albrum?”
She winced imdiately. Verinia laughed.
“You work when you should drink.”
Isabelle blushed, picking the glass up and swirling it. She shot a small smile to Verinia before sipping at it. Delicious as always. She smiled, brightening at the taste.
Verinia kissed her forehead before settling in next to her. “You might want another glass before I begin.”
Isabelle shook her head. “No, I’ll listen now. To think I miss sothing the one day I don’t show…”
Verinia smiled. “It’s glad news. Apparently, Albrum and his little birds have been making headway in Valesint.”
“Valesint?”
Isabelle blinked. Valesint, the major city on the borders of their country. It was the first wall humanity had to their attack. It was a fortress through and through, built on the back of a mountain, paths sharply defended and maintained. Even if all of demonkind attacked at once, save for her master, Valesint could likely repel them.
Verinia leaned in, her cheeks turning rosy. Her breathing grew heavy as she brought her lips to Isabelle’s ear. Her voice was joyful, ecstatic.
“I’m going to war, Isa. Front lines”
Isabelle looked up in surprise. Her heart filled with dismay. War? Verinia? If so, Isabelle would be alone. All alone, truly. Would Verinia even co back? Would she die on the field, laughing as her eyes glossed over? Her peculiarities aside, Isabelle was more than fond of her. She couldn’t ignore the fluttering in her chest each ti they touched, couldn’t help but look past her absolute loyalty. Verinia was a dangerous and alluring woman.
Her mouth moved before she could finish thinking.
“Let go with you.”
Verinia froze, but imdiately smiled wide. She pulled Isabelle into her grasp, hugging her tight enough to bruise later.
“I was hoping you would say that Isa.”
She pressed their foreheads together, their breath intermingling.
Verinia grinned. “I’ll show you how beautiful it can be. The dawn painted red.”
Her thumb rubbed Isabelle’s cheeks.
Isabelle lost herself to the touch. That she could go…stay with her. Her heart lted. “If they let go.”
“The only one who could stop you is hiding in his hole.”
Isabelle’s eyebrows rose. Was she criticizing who Isabelle thought she was?
“I’m surprised you say such things, Nia.”
Verinia chuckled. “My loyalty doesn’t buy complints, Isa. My obedience is absolute, that, do not question.”
They felt each other’s warmth for so ti, until Isabelle looked around at the library. She smiled at Verinia.
“This really was such a surprise, Nia. I haven’t had a birthday celebrated in quite so ti. Usually I spend it alone.”
Verinia smiled, leaning in, touching their lips. She gripped Isabelle’s chin, tracing her thumb over it.
“That isn’t the worst. I prefer it when we’re alone.”
Their lips t once more. She grinned as she pulled away from Isabelle. Verinia leaned over, her words tickling Isabelle’s ears.
“I hate crowds.”
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