Page 31 of To Dwell in Shadows (Shadows of Aurelia #2)

S ince winning the Infernal Combat Trial, Sam had tried to keep a discreet presence in the palace to observe the other contenders, but his parents made that difficult.

Earlier in the week, his father had him sit in for him during open court, the time when his parents heard petitions, settled disputes, and addressed grievances from their subjects.

It was mind-numbingly tedious, yet Sam forced himself to nod along to each plea and attempt at flattery.

If his parents thought the experience would make him more amenable to becoming the Dark Sovereign, it had the opposite effect.

He hoped the next trial would provide a better opportunity to see a potential candidate shine.

Sam was sweeping the floor of one of the older judgment rooms, when he heard the click of the door latch shut.

Quickly, he spun around to see who it was.

Vanthee stood, leaning against the closed door, gazing at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

She’d applied red gloss to her lips and wore a skin-tight gown made of transparent lace.

“May I help you?” Sam asked.

“Hello,” she whispered.

The sultriness of her gaze made him tighten his grip on the broom handle. Every encounter with Vanthee felt like a chore, and he wasn’t in the mood for her games. The scent of her generously applied cherry-and-clove perfume filled the room, making him rub his nose.

“Have you come to assist me?” he asked. A recent surge in condemned souls had forced him to use a rarely visited chamber that was badly in need of cleaning. “You can start by scrubbing the floor with that sponge and bucket over there.”

“I didn’t come to clean,” she purred.

“Suit yourself.”

Vanthee watched him sweep for a moment, then crossed the room and slipped behind him. Her arms slid around his biceps, and she rested her head against his back. “I came because I want to be with you.”

Sam pulled away at once.

“I’ve tried to catch you alone for so long,” she murmured, then tried to embrace him again.

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped.

“No one needs to know. I won’t say a word.”

“Nothing is going to happen between us. Go find a Lust demon to meet your needs.”

“I saved you in the trial. Doesn’t that prove my worth to you? Don’t I deserve a reward?”

“You have my gratitude,” Sam said flatly. “There’s your reward.”

Vanthee’s dreamy expression shifted to something darker. “Stop pretending to be so noble. You’re not in Aurelia anymore. There’s no need to cling to their foolish ideas of fidelity.”

She trailed her fingers down his chest, but Sam blocked her with the broom handle.

“Haven’t you ever wondered,” she whispered, “what it’s like to be with a demoness?”

“No. You need to leave.”

She inched closer, until her breasts brushed his Sam’s knuckles where he gripped the broom. “I used to dream about you. The shining lost Prince of Vengeance. So handsome and brave. I always knew our destinies were intertwined.”

Sam’s unease grew. He was used to confrontations where force, or the threat of it, spoke louder than words. But this was different. A female who ignored his wishes and pushed past his warnings presented a different kind of challenge. Since violence wasn’t an option, he tried a different tactic.

“Yes, our destinies are intertwined,” Sam said evenly. Vanthee’s eyes lit up—until he kicked the cleaning bucket toward her with a clatter. “We were meant to clean this room together.”

The anticipation on her face shifted into irritation. Then hardened into resolve.

“Fine,” she said, smoothing her dress. “I’m not afraid of hard work. Allow me to demonstrate just how agile and flexible I can be.”

“If you can lift that stain on the floor in the corner, I will be impressed,” he joked.

His jest made Vanthee’s cheeks flame. Careful of her tight dress, she lowered herself to the floor. She dunked the sponge into the soapy water and began scrubbing.

Though they worked in silence, the room was thick with tension.

Sam could easily walk out of the Sanctum to escape her, but he knew Borias would chastise him for leaving a room only half-cleaned.

If Vanthee was angling for some private time with him, he needed to make it clear that this was all she was going to get.

“Do you like seeing me on my knees, great prince?” she said, leering up at him.

Sam didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on knocking down a stubborn cobweb clinging to the corner of the ceiling. The scent of cleaning solution was beginning to drown out her perfume and for that, he was grateful.

“Be sure to really scrub hard when you get to the skirting board,” he instructed.

Vanthee glared at him then said, “Yes, sir. ”

After several minutes, she sat back on her heels and wiped the sweat from her brow.

“Growing weary, are you?” Sam asked. “Perhaps it’s time you went home.”

“I’m not as strong as you, that’s true,” she replied, her voice edged with challenge. “But I’m tough. Tell me, great prince, do you ever worry about breaking your little human when you’re pushing inside her?”

A red haze swept across Sam’s vision. Her crude question ignited a raw urge to lash out—to snarl, to rage, to terrify her so thoroughly she’d never dare approach him again.

But he held himself back. He knew exactly what Vanthee was doing: prodding, provoking, trying to prove that he belonged with a demoness, not some fragile human.

Usually, when he was unsure of how to act, he asked himself what Eldridge would do.

But this time, his thoughts strayed to Brunie.

He remembered how impossible she was to rattle, how effortlessly she defused barbed remarks with raw honesty.

What seemed like innocence had a way of shaming her challengers, leaving her the quiet victor.

“No,” he said lightly. “Selene is able to accommodate me.”

Vanthee’s mouth opened in surprise at his composed reply. She tucked a strand of hair behind one horn then asked, “But surely you must crave someone to match your power.”

“Not at all. We’ve figured out what works and what doesn’t.”

Vanthee pressed her lips together. Her attempt to shock and provoke him was unraveling, yet she wasn’t relenting. “Most demons prefer a lover they don’t have to treat like she’s made of glass.”

Sam stopped sweeping and leveled a look at her. “For the last time, Selene is my mate. I don’t want anyone else. Whatever you’re trying here, it’s pointless. Surely you have plenty of suitors more worthy of your time.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Vanthee snapped. “I don’t have a lot of suitors. My father won’t allow it. ”

A flicker of pain crossed her face, and for a moment, Sam almost pitied her.

“Interesting,” he said. “Mammon never struck me as the protective type.”

“He’s not. I’m just an asset to him.” She scrubbed harder at the floor. “I was betrothed to Drath to settle one of Father’s debts but thankfully, Drath called it off.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted. “Because you tried to split his head open?”

“Something like that,” Vanthee muttered.

Slowly, the pieces fell into place, and Sam began to understand the logic behind her obsession with him.

To Mammon, aligning with Sam held more promise than a pact with any other demon, and Vanthee was the perfect pawn to make it happen.

Mentioning her father seemed to unlock something in Vanthee.

The seductive facade slipped away, replaced by something rawer, more real.

Sam watched her attack the floor with renewed aggression.

“Are there any demons you would choose to marry, if it were truly your choice?” Sam asked.

Vanthee let out a dry laugh. “There’s no such thing as choice for me.”

“Why?”

“It’s just the way it is. I’m not a royal offspring like you.”

Sam ignored the jab. “What did your mother think of your betrothal to Drath?”

“I don’t know. I never met her.”

“Truly?”

“She’s dead. After I was born, ‘someone’ threw her into one of the lakes of fire. I’m fairly certain it was my father.”

Sam inhaled sharply. “Why is he allowed to walk free? He should be in the Vaults of Eternal Torment.”

Vanthee shrugged. “He claimed it was an accident, that she tripped. Or at least, that’s what I was told. I was just a baby.”

“That’s unacceptable. Was there even an investigation? ”

She scoffed. “Do you think we’re in Gaia or something? No one cared.”

There weren’t many ways for a demon to truly die, but being consumed by the flames of a lake of fire was one of them.

Sam knew what it felt like to be separated from his parents, but never knowing one at all?

And worse, knowing one had likely killed the other?

That was a different kind of devastation.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It happened just after you were taken,” Vanthee replied, somewhat apologetically. “I’m sure the king and queen had more pressing concerns.”

“Still, an act like that should’ve been punished.”

“Perhaps it would have been once. Elders have told me that after you vanished, the king and queen began to neglect their duties. The realm started to decay. Laws went unenforced, the land was left untended, and more souls were lost. A lot of them, actually.”

This caught Sam off guard. He’d noticed parts of the Underworld were in disrepair, but he hadn’t realized the neglect stretched across the entire realm.

“Is that why there are so many lost souls roving about?”

“It’s not my fault!” Vanthee protested. “There were Guides before me, nine of them. But one by one, they grew tired of Underworld politics and left for Gaia. I was only an apprentice when I was forced to take over and guide all the souls alone. I begged for help from my father—from the king and queen—but no one listened. They’ve desecrated what this realm was meant to be.

It was created to judge the dead and guide them to their next journey—not serve as a playground where demons indulge their every whim. ”

Before Sam could respond, Vanthee rose to her feet. “I’ve had enough of this,” she muttered, tossing the sponge back into the bucket. “If you ever get tired of your human, come see me. Otherwise, clean this room yourself.”