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Something wasn’t right. Ruby looked over at the nightstand the dog spirit had led her to. That sketch of Slate and Paimon covered in blood holding a demon’s head aloft would still be there, waiting.

“Have you killed a lot of demons?” Ruby asked cautiously.

“I have.”

“With… Paimon?”

Slate hesitated. “There were more, once. When things were less settled. Everyone and everything was vying for more territory. Paimon was a shield brother. It was how we met.”

Ruby’s mind raced with questions. Sweetsguard suddenly felt laughably small and quaint, full of people stumbling around in the dark. She thought she knew Paimon’s story, she thought she knew what the Bygone was, and she thought she knew what demons were. She thought she knew her own damn magic. And she was wrong about all of it. It was time to start uncovering the truth.

“Do you think one of them might have done something to Paimon?” she asked.

Slate let out another gruff laugh. “No demon has the power to hurt him. Paimon is not a powerful god, but he is still a god.”

“Tell me more about him.”

“Paimon is…” Slate looked away, and Ruby tried to imagine how long he had been alive. How many years he had known Paimon. How much he had seen and done and experienced, generations before Ruby was even an idea in her parents’ eyes.

“He is kind,” he said slowly. “And cocky. He was always exploring the realms. He tried to get me to join him. He stopped trying, some time ago. He also stopped exploring.”

He paused. “He was one of the only non-mortals I ever met who enjoyed the mortal realm.”

“He did?”

Slate inclined his head. “He was human, once. A long time ago. He said he enjoyed watching your realm because it reminded him what it was like.”

Ruby wanted to cry. She knew none of this. How did she know so little of her own god? She had prayed to him her whole life. She thought she heard him answer, sometimes. Nothing direct—a glow of pride when she cast a successful spell or comfort when she asked for it.

She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Did he ever watch his followers? Did he come to Sweetsguard?”

“He was devoted to his followers. I’m sure he did watch you.”

Ruby laughed wetly. She wiped a tear away, embarrassed.

“Oh,” said Slate stiffly. “You are weeping again.”

“It’s not bad!” Ruby swiped her cheeks, fighting back a sob. “I’m just—I’m so relieved. He gives me magic, but I always hoped he—I don’t know—that he cared. About me.”

She rubbed her chest, trying to soothe the ache in her ribcage. There were times after the last witch of Sweetsguarddied when Paimon was the only person she spoke to all day. Knowing he not only heard her but might have really sent some of that comfort she thought she felt, it was like balm on an old wound.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For telling me.”

Slate nodded. His hands clenched and loosened at his sides, his tail swishing.

Nervous, Ruby realized, astounded.I think he’s nervous.

“I will continue my search to discover what has become of him,” Slate said. “Until then… do you wish to practice again?”

Ruby giggled, smearing tears off her cheeks. The request made her clit throb painfully. She had stuffed herself with her fingers before she slept last night, or whatever passed for night in this unchanging place, and she had winced the whole way through.

“I would,” she said. “But I’m… I’m quite sore.”

Slate frowned.

“No, it’s fine! I’m just not used to it.” Ruby bit her lip, rubbing her thighs together carefully to feel the flat of the dagger he had strapped to her thigh. A dress made of shadows and now a dagger, it made her think of being covered in his come.Markedby him, in whatever manner he saw fit.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “We can try again tomorrow.”