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“Am I?” I retort, though I feel the faint tremor in my arms. My wings twitch. The fortress wards hum, responding to myconfusion. I don’t know if it’s her presence or my own power turning against me. I grit my teeth, forcing the swirl of chaos flame to subside.

She twists in my hold, meeting my gaze from over her shoulder. Our faces are inches apart—close enough that I register each fleck of silver in her irises, the faint cut on her lower lip. My breath hitches, a primal awareness pounding through my veins. The mortal is pinned, her defiance palpable, and yet I can’t ignore that spark of dangerous attraction.

For a dizzying heartbeat, the fortress’s oppressive hush closes in around us. We stand at an impasse, chest to back, my horns angled just over her temple. Her ragged breathing fans across my jaw. It feels like we teeter on the brink of something that has nothing to do with violence. The desire to lean in, to close the inch between our mouths, flares hot and sudden. My claws tighten on her waist.

She senses it too, I realize. Her eyes widen, tension coiling in her frame. She shivers, not from fear but from something else. The air crackles, reminiscent of the illusions chamber when I tested her mind. Except this is more real—raw and electric, a near-kiss poised between us. My wings flex involuntarily, trying to cage her more.

The contract surges, sending a jolt of pain through my chest. I gasp, hissing under my breath. My hold slackens as I press a clawed hand over my heart. The fortress wards flicker, responding to my turmoil. She slips away, staggering free, rotating to face me with confusion etched on her features.

“What—? Malphas, what’s happening?” she asks, voice tight with concern.

I double over briefly, fighting the waves of pressure. Damn it. The oath’s binding punishes me for daring to step out of line. Or maybe her presence triggers a reaction I haven’t prepared for. Either way, it’s agony—like razors digging into my soul.

She hesitates, then steps forward, expression torn between wariness and alarm. “Are you all right?”

I bare my teeth, letting out a snarl that echoes through the courtyard. The lesser demons perched on the balconies hiss in response, flapping away in panic. My tail lashes the ground, cracks splintering the basalt.

Abruptly, the pain recedes, leaving a dull throb in its wake. I force myself upright, panting. The swirling illusions overhead subside. Valentina stands a few paces away, dagger raised but uncertain. Her silver eyes flick from my horns to my chest, worry overshadowed by frustration.

I drag in a shaky breath, pressing a hand to the basalt column for support. “It’s the contract,” I rasp. “Something about… you.”

She frowns. “Me?”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Your blood… it’s interfering.” I straighten, forcing my wings to settle. “Every time I try to assert my will too strongly—like now—it triggers a backlash, as if the oath can’t fully contain me in your presence.”

She rubs her brow, obviously perplexed. “That’s good, isn’t it? It means you can break free?”

I exhale slowly, regaining composure. “Potentially, yes. But it also means I’m vulnerable to the contract’s sporadic punishments if I push too far without an actual method to sever it.”

She lowers the dagger, face etched with conflicting emotions. “So… you tried to prove my hopelessness, and instead you got a reminder of your own chains.”

I glare at her, though the edge is dulled by my lingering discomfort. “I wouldn’t phrase it so eloquently, but yes. Congratulations, mortal. Your presence is a double-edged sword.”

She grimaces, glancing at the silent watchers above. “If it helps, I’m not exactly thrilled to be the cause of your pain. We both want the same thing—your freedom from that contract.”

A jolt of surprise runs through me. “You want that?”

She shrugs, eyes shifting away. “It’s not just about you, is it? If I help break your chains, you might help me survive. Or maybe I’m a decent person who doesn’t enjoy seeing someone tortured by an oath. Take your pick.”

I study her, uncertain how to respond. Mortals rarely show compassion for demons, especially one who nearly consumed them on an altar. Yet here she is, forging an alliance with me for reasons I can’t fully parse.

My chest clenches with a rush of conflicting warmth.Stop, I chide myself. I step back, ignoring the faint tremor in my limbs. “We have an archivist to find. Wallowing in mutual pity won’t help.”

She nods, expression guarded. “Agreed. Then what’s the plan?”

I cast a wary glance upward, where two Trolvors skulk along a high ledge, observing. I sign for her to follow me into a side passage where the wards dampen echoes of conversation. Once inside, I close the thick iron door, the clang reverberating in the gloom. The corridor is narrow, lit by a single sconce of ghostly blue flame.

Turning to face her, I fold my arms. “We’ll travel at dusk. The fortress wards hide us from scrying, but once we leave, King Grymlock’s forces could detect me. I need to mask my presence.”

Her brow creases. “How? You’re… not exactly small.”

A grudging smile graces my lips. “Chaos illusions can cloak my appearance, as I did in the city. But that doesn’t help with the contract if they attempt a direct summon. If the pain hits me mid-journey, it might incapacitate me.”

She taps the hilt of her dagger in a nervous gesture. “Then we’re stuck?”

I shake my head. “I have a partial solution—an amulet that blunts the contract’s hold. It was crafted by Soz’garoth sorcerers once under my command. The artifact was never finished, but it might buy me time. I need to retrieve it from the depths of the fortress. It’s not exactly stable.”

She pales slightly. “Unstable how?”