Page 5

TRINITY

I wait until Drez'kor's footsteps fade completely before allowing my false smile to crumble. My fingers trace the tender spots on my hips where his grip will leave marks by morning. The garden's beauty feels tainted now, every glowing flower and twisted branch a witness to my degradation.

"Bastard," I whisper to the empty air, wrapping my arms around myself despite the mild evening. The midnight blue fabric feels like a costume now, another prop in this ongoing performance.

A twig snaps.

I whirl around, mask instantly back in place, lips automatically curving into the inviting smile the captain expects.

But it's not Drez'kor.

A tall figure emerges from the shadows between two luminous trees. Gray skin catching the soft glow of the flora around us, those unmistakable red-gold eyes with their vertical slits fixed on me with unsettling intensity.

My breath catches. Vael. The demon from Asmodeus's gathering days ago.

"Interesting performance," he says, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet garden. "Though the finale was interrupted."

I straighten my spine, tugging at my dress where it reveals too much thigh. "You shouldn't be lurking in shadows. The captain doesn't appreciate others eyeing his possessions."

Vael steps fully into the light. He's even more imposing than I remember—towering height, muscular frame moving with predatory grace, those thick horns curling up from his head. Unlike the captain's gaudy attire, he wears simple black, the fabric doing nothing to disguise his power.

"How long have you been watching?" I demand, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Long enough." His gaze travels slowly down my body, but unlike the captain's leering appraisal, his assessment feels clinical, like he's cataloging injuries. "Long enough to know the captain isn't what you want."

A bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "And you would know what I want?"

"I know what you don't want." He gestures to where Drez'kor disappeared. "That. Him. His hands on you."

Heat flushes my cheeks—embarrassment or anger, I'm not sure which. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're smart enough to play a dangerous game." He takes another step closer. Unlike the captain, he maintains a respectful distance. "I watched you manipulate him into promising better conditions for the other humans."

My mask slips for a fraction of a second. "You heard that?"

"Enhanced hearing." One corner of his mouth quirks up, not quite a smile. "Demon, remember?"

"Hard to forget." I look pointedly at his horns, then away.

A heavy silence falls between us. In the distance, I hear voices—other demons enjoying the evening gardens. Vael cocks his head slightly, listening, then relaxes.

"We're alone," he assures me. "For now."

"Lucky me. Another demon who wants a private audience." I make my voice cutting, defensive. "What is it you want, Vael? To take the captain's leftovers?"

His expression darkens, jaw tightening. "I'm not here for that."

"Then why are you here?"

He studies me for a long moment, those strange eyes searching mine. Then he cocks his head to one side, the gesture oddly animal-like. "Tell me, Trinity. Don't you want freedom?"

The question hits me like a physical blow. Freedom. Such a simple word for something so impossibly distant.

"Freedom?" I repeat, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "What would a demon know about that? You're not the ones locked in dungeons, passed around like party favors."

"No," he agrees, surprising me. "But I know a cage when I see one. Even one gilded with silk dresses and private chambers."

I laugh, the sound hollow even to my own ears. "And I suppose you're offering to spring me from this cage? Out of the goodness of your demonic heart?"

His expression doesn't change, but something shifts in those predator eyes. "Maybe I have my reasons."

"Everyone has reasons," I counter. "Usually selfish ones."

"You don't trust easily." It's not a question.

"I wonder why." I gesture at my revealing dress, at the gardens, at the whole situation.

Vael's gaze softens fractionally. "Smart. Trust is dangerous."

"So is hope," I whisper before I can stop myself.

He's still watching me, those otherworldly eyes taking in every detail. Something about his gaze feels different—like he's looking at me, not through me or at parts of me.

"You never answered my question," Vael says, his voice oddly gentle for such an imposing figure.

"Which one? You demons ask so many." I attempt a casual shrug, but my shoulders are too tense to pull it off convincingly.

A hint of amusement flashes across his face. "Freedom. Don't you want it?"

I turn away from him to trace my finger along the glowing petal of a nearby flower. Its light pulses in response to my touch, as if alive. "Freedom is a fairy tale they tell children," I say, keeping my voice light. "Like true love or happy endings."

"Cynical for someone so young."

"Experience, not age, breeds cynicism." I glance back at him. "And I've had plenty of experience with your kind."

He doesn't flinch at the accusation in my tone. Instead, he steps closer, not invading my space but close enough that I can catch his scent—something unexpectedly clean, like mountain air after a storm.

"Yet you've never tried your tricks on me," he observes, tilting his head. "Why is that?"

The question catches me off guard. He's right. With every other demon—the captain, Asmodeus, the guards—I play my part: the seductive human, the charming pet, whatever mask will get me what I need. But with Vael, I've never even attempted it.

"Maybe you're not worth the effort," I lie, refusing to examine the real reason.

His laugh is unexpected—a deep, rumbling sound that seems to vibrate through the garden. "You're a terrible liar, Trinity."

"And you're unusually interested in a human's motivations." I cross my arms, studying him with genuine curiosity. "Most demons don't bother trying to understand us beyond our... utility."

"I'm not most demons."

"So I've noticed." The words slip out before I can stop them, honest in a way I rarely allow myself to be.

Something shifts in his expression—a softening around those predatory eyes. It triggers a flutter in my stomach that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with something far more dangerous: attraction.

I shouldn't feel this pull toward him. He's a demon—a member of the race that enslaved me, that keeps my people in dungeons. But there's something about the way he looks at me, like he's trying to solve a puzzle rather than assess a possession, that makes my pulse quicken.

"What would you do with it?" he asks quietly.

"With what?"

"Freedom. If you had it."

I laugh bitterly. "What a question. I'd..." The words die on my lips. What would I do? I've spent so long just trying to survive that I've never dared to imagine a life beyond these walls. "I don't know," I admit finally. "Isn't that pathetic? I can't even dream properly anymore."

Vael takes another step closer. "Dreams can be rebuilt."

I look up at him, suddenly aware of how close he is, how his towering frame blocks out the garden around us. But instead of feeling trapped, I feel... sheltered. It's a dangerous thought.

"Why are you really here, Vael?" My voice emerges softer than intended.

"I've been watching you," he admits. "Not just tonight. You're... different from what I expected."

"Different how?"

"You care about the others. The human women. You put yourself at risk for them." His gaze is penetrating, seeing past my carefully constructed defenses. "It's not a survival instinct. It's something else."

I swallow hard. "Maybe I'm just cultivating allies."

"No," he says with certainty. "It's compassion. Something rare in this place. Rarer still in someone fighting so hard to survive."

The understanding in his voice threatens to crack something inside me, something I've kept frozen just to endure. I reach for my usual tools—a flirtatious smile, a coy look—but they feel wrong with him. False. For the first time in years, I want someone to see the real me, not the mask.

"I don't know how to be any other way," I whisper, the most honest thing I've said in years.