Page 7 of The Devil May Care

“She was not Daemari,” he says evenly. As if that changes things. As if she didn’t belong to the realm. There are those who whisper Isaeth’s death was no accident. That the war with Cobalt was a convenient scapegoat. Some even wonder if the war was necessary at all.

“Do you imply she did not matter?”

My father does not flinch. “You speak as though the realm should be ruled by sentiment.”

I take a slow breath, shake my head. No.

“It should not be ruled by absence of it.”

My father’s mouth tightens.

“Your pain may feel real,” he says after a moment. “But it is not destiny.”

“I do not believe in destiny,” I answer. There’s an audible gasp from the council members. They’ll see my statement as blasphemous when the flame knows all, sees all, and yet they’ll do nothing.

My father lifts his gaze toward the Flame Crown. “Then believe in necessity. Loss is a price we pay in war.”

“No.”

The word is simple. Final. He looks back at me and smiles again. But this time, it is sharper. Calculating.

“Then perhaps,” he says, “you will find clarity in responsibility.”

And just like that, I know he is not done with me. I wasn’t called here to enter the rite or defend my lack of brand. I am to be an example. I brace for the knife he intends to plant between my ribs. I know that look. It is the same one he wore when he sent me back to the front lines with lies stitched to my orders and betrayal folded beneath each command.

“There is a matter beyond the citadel,” he says, as though it is a minor footnote to prophecy. “A disruption reported in the Wastelands.”

My eyes narrow. “The Wastelands?” The barren desert beyond the citadel is monitored, yes, but few step into its inferno save to visit the true flame itself aside from the occasional bonding ritual, and most of those now happen inside the keep. My fists clench at my sides.

“A shimmer. A breach. One of the scouts felt it first—a pulse, unnatural. They found a figure not aligned to any realm. No markings. No soul-scent. No traceable bond to our planes.”

The court rustles again. My pulse stills. He enjoys this, my father. The way he parcels out chaos in perfect portions. He’s a true performer, unfortunately he seems to have fallen for his own fiction, and none seem willing to lay the truth at his feet.

“And?” I ask.

“She is mortal.”

Mortal.

Human?

The word thuds dully in my chest. It does not make sense. Mortals have not crossed into the Nether in centuries. And when they did, it was never through the Wasteland. That region devours all, Daemari, Vesperan, Embermaw alike. And there is no record of humans every making it through the veil of Crimson’s borders. None can pass there, not without aid. Even the Vesperan need to be flame marked by another to be allowed safe passage.

“Perhaps her appearance is a mistake,” he adds, as if such a thing happens. “A misfired thread of magic. For now, she is unharmed. Confused. Alone.”

“Then send her back.”

He chuckles. “If only it were that simple.”

It’s not. Humans are not supposed to pass into our world. They arenot recognized by the Flame and not given entry past our wards, but she managed to. She could be given sigil and a return attempted, but there is no record of a soul bond with a human. It may not take, and if it did whoever offered would be tied to the mortal for life. If she survived the trip in, she would probably survive the trip out, but there are few in Crimson are powerful enough to cast for another. It doesn’t matter. None will attempt if the Asmodeus forbids it.

I remain silent, though the weight of the game sharpens around me. He is leading me. Slowly. Deliberately. I can feel the noose tightening, the walls shifting closer, I just do not recognize his end game.

“We cannot yet determine how she arrived, or what was displaced to make room for her. Such anomalies are… delicate.”

“She’s mortal,” I say. “Let the scholars assess her, then find someone to bond her and send her home.” If she can’t go back without a Daemari claim, then find someone, anyone, willing to provide it.

For some reason he wants her to be my problem. No thank you.