Page 118 of As Above, So Below

I expected to wake regrettingeverything.

Instead, I regret nothing.

And it’s a delicious thing.

Nested on a windowsill in the hall near my bedroom door, I sip my morning tea, staring at the gardens below. I’d slept soundly, and of course, I dreamt of Ryc once again—this time knowing who he is. He’s no longer the shrouded fae following me around Ollora, instead he’s the Sovereign King of Erus standing on a rooftop in the Twilight Mire with golden eyes that shine brighter than the stars.

A light rain falls against the glass, gentle taps against the pane that create a chorus of sound echoed in other windows lining the hall. It creates a soothing sound that sinks into my skin, into my muscles.

Curling my fingers around my mug, I hug my raised knee closer to my chest, resting my cheek against it as I continue to watch through the window. I hadn’t bothered to get dressed for the day, at least not yet anyway.

Daring to venture into the hall in my camisole, I had wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, wanting to enjoy the time of silence in the temple. Like clockwork, the temple becomes a haven forthoughts twice a day—the hour before sunrise and the hour after sunset—when prayer takes place.

These two hours have become some of the only times where I’m left in peace with myself. Much of the other time, I’m with Cora and Eve as we complete our tasks. A completely different experience from the solitude of the hells.

I’m left with much less solitude, and I find I still need—still want—moments like this, where I can process. And during these times, the entire temple falls quiet. No one in the halls, the library, the garden… They’re either praying in the sanctum or asleep.

If temple life were like this more often, I might enjoy it more. It hasn’t been an awful experience—not by any definition of the word—but there are many here, many I don’t know, many I haven’t bothered to get to know.

Yet they all know me.

They watch and wait to see what Celesta’s daughter will do. And it’s as if Eve and Cora are the only ones to look at me, talk to me, share space with me and treat me asme. They don’t keep a strained distance or place me on some strange pedestal because I’m Celesta’s daughter.

It’s all too reminiscent of how I was treated by demons in the hells. Feared because I was nothing more than Netharis’ daughter.

The light of the sun is less intense today, darkened by the clouds claiming the sky, still seeking to bring light to the world. It’s returning color to the realm, chasing away the darkness and shadow night had brought. An hour of gray before the vibrant reality of the world is revealed.

Cora had left me a few new teas to try from our shopping excursion in the South Ward, and I’d blindly chosen one for this morning. Raising my mug to my face, I breathe in its fragrant, relaxing steam, my eyes closing as the herbal scent washes over me.

Saffron, I realize.

I pause, staring at the mug, at the golden yellow liquid. The scent reminds me of him, as does the color. Would Nektos influence something as small as this? Surely not.

Right?

Would the goddess of Fate have thoughts on what I’ve done? On what Ryc has done?

Regardless, the truth of the matter is Rycservesme.

Me, a demon who has rich little experience in negotiating contracts now has aSovereign Kingbound to her. He’d signed the contract without question, without barter, without argument.Without reading.A blind trust borne of stupidity.

Or lust.

Perhaps both.

Had it been any other demon to offer him a contract, it would have been riddled with damning terms and conditions. His soul would no longer be his own.

I don’t want his soul.

The contract I’d offered was drafted in earnest.

I didn’t include any terms or conditions beyond his protection against Netharis, Kassil, the hells, Celesta, and the other Sovereign Kings. And listing out the terms, even if only to myself, it’s a fair amount to take on.

He should have read the damn thing.

I shake my head and sip my tea.

The way he stared at me as he pressed his thumb to the parchment—I’ll never forget it. I don’t want to forget it.