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Silence stretches, broken only by the crackling of arcane flames. My gaze drifts across her face, lingering on the bruise near her temple. It’s half-faded now, but I recall how she earned it—when the dark elf soldiers dragged her to the ritual. The memory ignites a smolder of anger in me. Anger for her, or anger at the elves who dared to seize what is mine?

I clamp down on that line of thought. “We need to talk,” I say, stepping forward until we’re a few paces apart. “Your illusions trial proved you have a high threshold for fear and pain. Yet I wonder if you understand just how hopeless it is to resist me if I decide you’re no longer useful.”

Her fingers graze the hilt of her dagger. “Is that what you came to tell me? That you can kill me anytime?”

A humorless smile curves my lips. “Not precisely. But I sense your defiance. Let’s see how unwavering it is.”

She tenses. “I’m not picking another fight with illusions, if that’s what you mean.”

“No illusions this time.” My voice drops, a dark promise. “Only you and me.”

Her brows knit in suspicion. “You’re challenging me to a duel?”

The notion prods an amused snort from my throat. “A demon of my power against you? That’s not a challenge—it’s a slaughter. What I propose is more… instructive.” I pivot on my heel, gesturing for her to follow. She hesitates, then falls into step behind me.

We traverse the corridor in silence, eventually emerging into a small courtyard enclosed by four spires. Overhead, the sky churns with swirling illusions, red clouds streaked by arcs of black lightning. A balcony lines the upper levels, where lesser demons occasionally prowl or perch. I sense their curious gazes. Let them watch.

I stride to the center of the courtyard, an open space of cracked basalt. Valentina stops a yard away, gripping her dagger. Her posture says she expects an attack, but her eyes flick around, searching for hidden threats.

I face her, wings partially spread. “You claim to be no man’s puppet,” I say, voice echoing. “Prove it.”

She warily glances around. “How?”

I summon a flicker of chaos flame around my claws, letting it spiral up my forearm. The black fire crackles, reflecting in her wide eyes. I keep the blaze contained, but menacing. “If you want your so-called freedom while under my roof, you must show me that you can hold your own. That your will is stronger than the contract that binds me.”

The question in her gaze is obvious: How can I challenge that contract? But she doesn’t speak it. Instead, she huffs, tensionvisible in the set of her shoulders. “You want me to fight you with this dagger? You’d tear me apart.”

A smirk crosses my lips. “I won’t tear you apart—unless you bore me.” I pause, letting the threat hang. “But we’ll see how far you get. Draw that blade, try to strike. If you can land a blow, I might grant you more autonomy. Fail, and perhaps you’ll learn hopelessness.”

She releases a shaky breath. “You’re insane,” she mutters, but there’s a spark in her eyes that suggests she won’t back down. She shifts her weight, pulling the dagger from its sheath, the metal glinting in the courtyard’s grim light.

I direct her to begin. She squares her stance, the coat billowing around her calves. For a beat, we lock gazes, the fortress hush enveloping us. Then she lunges.

Her move is surprisingly quick, a slash aimed at my midsection. I twist aside, letting her pass me by. She stumbles slightly but recovers. My wings flare, stirring the dust. She whirls, dagger raised, scanning for an opening.

I remain calm, letting her come again. This time she tries a feint, pivoting at the last second. She aims for my ribs, but I catch her wrist with my clawed hand. Her eyes widen, and I sense that flicker of fear—brief, raw. I could crush her bones. The knowledge lances through me, fueling the chaos flame swirling up my arm.

I don’t crush, though. Instead, I shove her away, forcing her to stumble back. She gasps, regaining her footing. Her expression hardens, defiance radiating. “You said you’d let me try. Let me,” she snaps.

A low chuckle escapes my throat. “I am letting you. Go on, mortal.”

We circle each other. She feints high, then crouches low, slashing for my thigh. I step back, wings shifting for balance,the blow missing by an inch. “You’re faster than I expected,” I acknowledge, voice rumbling. “But your technique is lacking.”

Her glare intensifies. “My technique is survival.” She darts in again, ignoring my mockery. I parry with a sweep of my arm, chaos flame licking the air. The heat singes the coat’s hem, and she recoils, cursing.

In a burst of speed, I move behind her, hooking an arm around her waist. Her back slams into my chest. The dagger dangles uselessly at her side. She gasps, wriggling to break free. My wings close around us both, forming a partial cage of leathery membrane.

Heart pounding, she cranes her neck, silver eyes blazing. “Let me—let me go.”

I tighten my grip, not enough to injure but enough to convey that I could snap her spine. Heat radiates from the press of our bodies, her labored breath mingling with the faint brimstone scent clinging to me. My horns cast long shadows across the basalt.

I dip my head, my mouth near her ear. “Do you feel it?” I murmur, voice low. “How futile it is to fight me here?”

Her pulse thrums against my forearm. She tries to elbow me, but I twist, anticipating the move. Despite her frustration, I sense no surrender—only fury at her own helplessness.

Something sparks inside me, a charge that hums where our bodies meet. My heart stutters, and the contract’s magic churns in my chest. That unwelcome ache returns, as though the oath is unraveling, or perhaps resonating with her. I let out a shaky breath, momentarily disoriented by the swirl of conflicting energies.

She goes still, sensing my shift. “You’re trembling,” she whispers, surprise leaking into her tone.