Page 73 of As Above, So Below

I’d never been the greatest at socialization in the hells. I lack the charismatic presence of my father. I tend to observe from afar and engage in conversation only when required.

New realm, new life, new Vestaris.

A soft smile spreads over Cora’s face as she answers, “My father arranged a marriage to a man. I came to the Moon Temple because if accepted into service, I wouldn’t be forced to leave. You cannot take from Celesta without repercussions.”

My brows raise. She joined for protection, to escape an arranged marriage. Not unlike myself.

“I know what that’s like,” I say, my voice quiet.

Cora’s eyes widen, understanding my unspoken words. “Is that why you left?” she asks.

I nod. “Had I known leaving the hells was possible, I would have left sooner.”

“You didn’t know until Celesta showed you,” she says with a small half smile.

I nod again.

Wanting to move past the topic of arranged marriages, Celesta, and the reason for my escape, I ask, “How long ago did you come to Ollora?”

“It will be six years this autumn solstice. I’ll be twenty-five a few days before.” There’s a sadness in her voice that resonates within me. “If I had stayed, I would be married to a merchant’s son and have gods know how many children by now.”

The look on her face tells me that she fully understands both the joy and mourning that comes with finding freedom in a new place.

“You’re so young.” My brows shoot high.

Staking out alone at nineteen is mind-boggling to me. I can’t recall my first century, honestly—at least, not clearly. And the fact that she’s not yet a quarter century? She’s barely more than a child, even within the context of a human’s expected lifespan.

“Still a babe and expected to bear children?” My lip pulls back at the thought. “Your father had best hope we never cross paths.”

Cora’s laughter is golden as she places three more eggs into her basket. “Eve says the same thing. She’s always teasing me about our age difference. She says I make her feel like a cradle robber at times. But, for a human, I am a fully grown adult. I promise.”

“How old is Eve?” My brows crease with the question.

Grinning, her eyes meet mine. “Eve is older by a few hundred years. She’s barely an adult by your fae standards, so really, I’m the older one.”

What in the nine hells kind of logic is this?

Shaking my head, I decide not to argue the fallacies in her thinking.

I laugh, “You forget I’m not fae.”

“Maybe…” she trails off, her head tilting as she mulls over the point. “But you don’t act like a demon. Referring to you as ‘hybrid’ feels insulting, and you don’t look like a demi-fae. You’re fae to me.” She shrugs.

I’ve never been called anythingbutdemon by mortals.

Dumbfounded, I stare at her in silence.

She returns the stare with a confused and concerned look.

“What is it?” she asks.

I stammer, and my cheeks begin to burn.

Why am I feeling embarrassed about this?

The concern on her face deepens and she approaches me.

“My whole existence, I’ve been reminded that I’m a demon. That I belong to the hells,” I finally admit, sighing to mask the tremble in my voice. “And you calling me fae…” I let loose a long, long breath, “has me feeling a way I don’t quite understand.”