As soon as Callie’s gone, Porsoth clicks his tongue in his beak in concern.
“I know you’ll give me that look until I hear you out, so go on.” I motion that he has the floor. “What’s got you so worried? I thought you were encouraging Callie on this.”
My tutor rises. “I am, of course, in awe of what Callie has achieved. Her vision and education about our kingdom in such a short time are breathtaking to behold…”
He doesn’t need to remind me. I admire her dedication more than I could express. But I admit I’ve been longing for more time for us to learn each other. “What’s the ‘but’?”
“But your father can be, as you know…” Porsoth crosses the dark library marble. “I’m afraid an audience might be premature and provoke him to plot against you. The two of you. You know how he feels about loyalty.” He lowers his voice. “She challenges yours to him.”
The suggestion I have any loyalty to Father, after he was ready to unmake me weeks ago for not living up to his low standards—that’s rich. “He’s probably plotting against us already.”
Porsoth sways from side to side.
“He is, isn’t he?” Of course. How did I not assume this? “Maybe we’ll throw him off. Distract him.”
Porsoth mumbles something and examines a bookshelf as if it’s the most interesting thing in the entire universe.
With my enhanced senses, I believe I understand, but I make him say it again. “You’ll have to speak up.”
“He already knows. About the idea.”
I take this in. “How?”
“Occasionally Rofocale and I have tea. I told him I expected discretion, but I’m afraid…”
“You expected discretion from Rofocale and you’re lecturing me on what Father’s capable of?” Rofocale is my supervisor, technically. For now. He’s Father’s second-in-command. “Cheeky. Looks like the student has surpassed the teacher on reading the room.”
“I just worry, Prince.”
Agnes has her arms crossed. She’s been quietly watching our exchange up till now. “Am I hearing this right? Are you truly discussing whether it’s worth pissing off the devil for a chance at my freedom?”
Unlike most denizens of Hell who’d consider avoiding Father’s wrath top priority, Agnes is peeved.
“It’s politics, my dear.” Porsoth flutters his hands. “You know we value you.”
“I have no interest in politics,” I say.
Agnes snorts.
“What?”
“You’re a prince. You are politics.” She immediately gapes like she wants to take back the words. Then, “I speak out of turn.”
“You’re not going to get in trouble with me for that—” I give Porsoth a look. “Or him. How can I not try for this audience when Callie has so passionately combed through the archives? When Agnes might get to return to Earth?”
“I fear for you,” Porsoth says. “For all of us.”
I fear he’s correct to. The same way I fear that when Callie realizes who I really am—soul or no soul—and understands the true nature of this place … I fear I will lose her.
“You’re supposed to be fighting that impulse,” I say. “So fight the fear. Or don’t. This is our project.”
“Is it?” Agnes slips the question in like a dagger. “Or is she your project?”
“The distinction doesn’t matter. I’ll do what I promised her. We will have an audience with Father.”
I’m no fool, though. Before I call upon Rofocale, I send an urgent message to Mother through a demon messenger. Then, I go to my chambers and wait for her to arrive.
My mother swans into the entrance of my apartments precisely half an hour later, which means she’s invested in this. Otherwise, she’d have taken her unsweet time, as is her usual way.
Her black skirts swirl around her, her hair an unruly tangle, her face a goth masterpiece. “Is it true? You’re ready to take the concept to your father?”
“Yes, but you know I’ll need your help. Rofocale will need convincing to even ask him.”
Mother grins. “Let me handle him.”
I don’t point out that’s the entire reason I sent for her.
“I’m impressed Callie has gotten this far. Do you think it can work?” Mother asks. She has her own opinions, always, so she’s fishing for a glimpse at my inner workings. My parents are exhausting.
But Callie and Lilith have developed something like a grudging mutual admiration society. I suspect because Callie saved my life. My mother may not be sentimental, but she likes—all right, loves, in her unique way—me enough to be pleased I still exist.
“Father is too unpredictable to say. I’m afraid she doesn’t realize how unlikely it is he’ll go for any of this.”
Mother presses her lips together. “No, I was asking about the concept itself. Do you believe these people will prove themselves worthy of redemption? If given the chance?”
“Callie believes so.”
“And you? Do you want to do this?”
“Yes.” Or, at least, I hope I can. If second chances are possible, if humans can become better, avoid their past mistakes—perhaps I can too. Perhaps I can have a life of my own choosing.
“Let’s go then,” Mother says with a practically ravenous smile.
I link my arm through hers and we make our way from my quarters to Rofocale’s office in the working wing of the Gray Keep. If he’s not at Father’s side, this is where he’s most often found—hard at work in the large, over-warm stone room. Where Callie’s passion makes observing her at a task into a wonder, Rofocale’s foul humor makes watching him a torture all its own.
With scaly gray skin, he’s in one of his usual flashy tailored suits, scratching away with his bone pen in the hide-bound ledger on his enormous wooden desk. He sees me first and the curl of distaste on his face is delicious. Even more so when he discovers Mother is with me.
Rofocale hops to his feet and sweeps into a bow. “To what do I owe this honor?”
I can’t resist poking at him. “Now this is how a prince should be greeted. Thank you. You’re finally understanding the hierarchy.”
He frowns, red pupils glowing. “You know that I was not referring to you—”
Lilith raises a hand. “I’m here on my son’s behalf. I need you to help him. I would consider it a personal favor.”
The strain on Rofocale’s face is magnificent. Truly.
Mother keeps her hungriest smile trained on him. She isn’t a legendary witch and vanquisher of men for nothing. Rofocale raises his hand to the back of his neck, as if he’s hot under the collar. Is he fidgeting?
I have to bite back laughter. “You wouldn’t disappoint my dear mother, would you?”
Rofocale remembers I’m here. He speaks carefully. “What is the cause?”
“I understand from Porsoth that you know what it’s about. We’re ready for our audience with Father.”
A burst of heat is our only warning before Father, Lucifer Morningstar himself, strides into the room, his gray-tipped white wings nearly as wide as the span of it.
“You require an audience with me, my boy?” he says.
His icy gaze drifts between Rofocale and my mother. My parents haven’t been an item for as far back as I can remember, but they do have a strange bond.
Mother raises her eyebrows to him, but doesn’t curtsey. Mother, you’re supposed to be helping.
Rofocale has gotten better control of his reflexive flirting. “Sire, I was just about to tell them that you would need time to consider your schedule and—”
“Proceed,” Father says. “I’m here.”
Oh, he’s the worst. Can’t say that, though.
“I need an audience for Callie and myself. We have an idea to present. Together.”
A slow smile crosses Father’s face. “Done,” he says. “Shall we say … Saturday? Hangman’s noon?”
That was far too easy. Lilith and Rofocale’s expressions confirm they think the exact same thing. What’s he up to? It doesn’t matter. There’s only one possible answer.
“We’ll see you then.” For Callie’s sake, I add, “Father … thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Well, that’s never good.
I brace myself before I leave to go see Callie. I know she’ll either be waiting up or spending a sleepless night wondering. The only kind of sleepless night I want her to have is with me. But we haven’t taken that step yet, because I’d never rush her.
I’ll wait until she’s ready, and die a little every time I have to stop touching her.
No, it’s not her I’m dreading. She said she was working late with her mom.
At first, her mom seemed to be on board with the whole concept of me. Lately, I get the distinct feeling that is ceasing to be the case. I can’t truly blame her. I’m not good enough for Callie, that much is plain.
That I don’t care and want her anyway is more proof.
I let my mind’s eye find Callie, and then I zappity into the control room at her family’s escape room business.
Monitors and workstations line one wall. Callie is on the floor in front of them, surrounded by envelopes and sheets of paper. Alone.
I keep my sigh of relief inside.
“I come bearing good news,” I say.
She peers up at me without the joy I’d expect. “I could use some.”
I reach a hand out to her and she sets aside her papers. I pull her to her feet and she nestles her head under my chin against my chest. She keeps her hand in mine. The contact feels so good, so right, I don’t dare move except to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“I was late.”
“Yes.”
“Mom was already gone. Left me a note about what to do. It was very ‘not mad, just disappointed.’ I’m screwing things up here.”
Ah. “I’ve screwed up far more things than you could ever begin to. She’ll understand.” I pause. “Besides you have a few days to concentrate on things here before…”
She pushes back a bit, shaking her head at my tease. The hint of a smile appears. I made her feel better. I give myself a gold star.
“Before?” she asks.
“We meet with my father on Saturday. One p.m. sharp.”
“He agreed? Already?”
I decide not to tell her that might not be such a positive sign. “It’ll still be an uphill climb over burning mountains to get him to say yes to the ask. But he did.”
Callie’s smile widens and … changes. “I have an idea,” she says.
“Really?” I say in a mockery of being shocked. “You? An idea? Never.”
“Very funny,” she says. “I know I’ve been spending … a lot of time on this.” She holds up her hand before I can say anything. “A hundred books can’t read themselves. But, uh, what if we spend the whole day together? A big date after the audience.”
Her ears are scarlet. That’s her tell when she’s embarrassed or interested, or both. I’m too on the edge of my proverbial seat to say anything.
“And then, you know, I could stay over.” She hesitates. “If you want.”
I settle my pulse as best I can. She hasn’t yet spent the night. “I want. Oh, I want.”
As I pull her in close and press my lips to hers, we greedily melt into each other and it’s a preview of what’s to come.
Yes, Callie Johnson, I want you. Forever. I only wish I deserved it.