Lucia greeted the dawn with sullen silence.
The small room that was her cell was furnished comfortably enough. The bedsheets were clean, and she had a chair at a small desk with a few books she could read if she wished. The light of day filtered through a high, barred window. Today, it was bright and cheery outside.
It had been four days since last she had been forced to walk the Library. This was the first morning she didn’t wake up shaking on the floor of her cell, the sheets from her bed bunched up in a ball she held to her chest.
Her neck and arm was still sore from that final day in the Library. Lindell’s setup had become misaligned again, and she had, in her desperation, thrown herself against the binding circle, heedless of the pain it would cause. The demonic power sapped from her rebounded upon her arm, her shoulder, and her face, burning her and throwing her to the ground in agony. Coming into contact with the binding circle was like acid scouring her skin.
She knew this, of course. This hadn’t been her first circle; far from it. But it was preferable to the torture that was the Library. There was no feeling in her arm for an entire day, afterward. Today, even, it felt weaker than the other. The injury was enough to end the session for the day; indeed, she wondered if the following three day reprieve was due to that, as well.
Lindell wanted her in pain, but not dead. He had made that quite clear.
Of her captivity, she had almost spent more time outside the Library than in, now. She didn’t dare to hope Lindell was done with her—that he would release her from this prison of a body to the Abyssal Dream—
No, that was not true. She hoped for this release every single waking moment. But she despaired that it would never come.
Her contract would become a stone around her neck, dragging her down to the depths without escape. For, if there was even a possibility of revenge to be taken on Lindell, on General Hawthorne, or on the Marchesa, then she would linger on in this world. Even the death of her summoner wouldn’t—
No. Her mind fled from that thought. She would not torture herself more.
And, deep within herself, she knew Lindell would force her into that place again. The Library waited for her. It was always there, humming in the background of her captivity.
She crossed over to the cell door where waited a small plate with fruit, some bread and a glass of water. Her captors were generous enough with her meals. Their kindness was cruel in the face of torture. She almost would have preferred a stone cell without furniture or other comforts.
Slowly, she carried her breakfast to the small desk and began to eat. She was too exhausted even to weep.
***
It was a few hours past midday when there was a knock at the door. Lucia was sitting on the bed. She didn’t look up as the door cracked open a fraction, and a heavy set of footsteps slipped inside.
She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and said, “Just kill me already. I’m no more use to you.”
There was a silence, an awkward space that spoke not of the Snake. Lucia started as she looked up into the stricken face of Talia, the Duke of Fallmire, and she immediately regretted her words.
“I didn’t—” the demon spluttered, but she couldn’t make the words go right. “I wanted—no, I mean,” and she buried her face in her own hands.
“Lucia.” Talia’s voice was gentle.
“Why are you here?” Lucia couldn’t look at her. Not now. Perhaps not ever.
“I came for you,” Talia said in a throaty tone. “Oh, Lucia. What have they done to you?”
Lucia felt a hand upon the side of her face, and she let her own arms drop to the bed. She had felt Talia’s touch before, briefly, but it had never been so tender, so gentle. She chanced a look up at Talia, and saw the same pain on the Duke’s face that undoubtedly shone through her own.
She wanted to throw herself into the Duke’s arms. She wanted to lose herself in her strong, careful grip forever. She wanted to …
But it was impossible. She pulled away from the Duke’s hand, rubbing cold the sparks trailing across her cheek at that woman’s touch.
“Why are you here?” she asked again. “I gave myself up for you. That should have been enough. Why wasn’t that enough!”
Lucia shocked herself at her own outburst. Talia blinked at it, and she saw the woman’s courage retreat.
Lucia didn’t bother peeking into the Duke’s heart. She didn’t want to feel the pity that was brimming in this woman! Why couldn’t the Duke leave this poor demon in peace, to nurture her broken heart alone?
Lucia sat on the bed, willing herself not to cry. Damn it, she would not cry.
“Lucia …” Talia began, but the demon cut her off.
“I made my feelings clear. And you rejected me. Fair enough. I do not own your heart. But if I choose to give myself up for you, don’t you think that’s because I told you the truth?”
The succubus took a deep breath through her nose. Hot, angry tears had fallen on her cheeks, silently betraying her resolve to remain strong. “I fell for you, hard. I still love you, even after you made your feelings clear. But I’m not your fucking doll. I won’t come at your beck and call. I served your damned contract, and I never want to see you again.”
“Will you let me speak?” Talia’s eyes were pleading, an expression Lucia had never seen her wear before.
Lucia shook her head ruefully. “S-speak. But I don’t know how … it won’t change anything.”
Talia took a seat beside the desk, facing the bed. Her gaze was, as ever, piercing. Lucia looked into it. This woman deserved to be looked in the eye, at least.
Talia’s words were unsure, halting. “I do not love as others do—”
“Damn right.” Lucia tried to bite back the words before they flew. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t—you don’t deserve my anger.”
“Yes, I certainly do. But listen to me, please. I beg of you.”
Lucia didn’t trust herself to speak, right then. She nodded, slowly.
“I told you once, I think, that I loved a woman. Isabel Fallmire, the most infamous captain to sail the seas west of Calamity. I loved her, and we were happy together. For a time.” Talia took in another halting breath. “But I killed her. Brought in her head for this bounty, and all because she betrayed that love. Betrayed me, in fact.” She tapped her weak leg, and Lucia widened her eyes in understanding.
“She gave you that injury,” a whisper.
Talia nodded. “Betrayed me back to the same captivity I had escaped from, in truth.”
“So you …”
“I’ve been a fool. That disgust you felt, when you first blessed my lips with your own? It was real. But it was not directed at you—it could never be so, Lucia! How could I ever think of you that way? A truer partner, no, a truer wife I could never hope to find, even should I brave the wastelands of Melodia a thousand years or more.”
Talia looked Lucia directly in the eye as she continued. “My heart aches for you, Lucia. And I’ve been a fool not to fully recognize it until now.”
Lucia’s heart rose a fraction. Should she dare to hope? No, but this woman—this woman!
“How dare you,” Lucia said, standing. She staggered towards Talia, unsure whether she should kiss her or deck her across the face. Maybe both. Both would feel good right now.
Talia looked up into her eyes, and Lucia took ahold of the Duke’s shirt.
“How dare you.”
And Lucia pulled her lover into a desperate kiss.
They pressed their lips together, tears mingling on their tongues. Talia put her hand on the back of Lucia’s neck, and the demon could feel the Duke choke back a tear.
Lucia pulled back, searched the Duke’s eyes, her heart. A silent desperation thrummed through the Duke’s center, and below it, suffusing it … love. Love mingled with desire, mingled with no small amount of pain.
Oh, this woman wanted her. Was desperate for her. And her heart was open, with nothing hidden.
“How dare you play with my heart like that,” Lucia finished. And she kissed Talia again.
She would dare to hope, if only for this woman.
***
When finally the golden sun had fully consumed its strength and given its place to the gentle, violet moon, they lay together, sheets atangle in the manner of spent passion.
Lucia, for once the big spoon in the arrangement, traced the line of Talia’s shoulder with her fingers, feeling the strength beneath her smooth skin. Long scars ran like mountains down her back. Her frame was as powerful as Lucia had ever dreamed—and yet it had yielded to her shivering touch like a pair of silk curtains.
Talia murmured something the demon did not catch.
Lucia rested her head upon Talia’s shoulder. “Yes, my love?”
Oh, it felt good saying that. The bitterness had not fully left Lucia’s heart, but it had been subsumed by a certain tenderness.
“I was so afraid, for so long.” Talia pulled the demon’s arms around her shoulders. “Afraid that you would betray me, just the same as … as …” She couldn’t finish.
And Lucia felt the Duke’s frame begin to shake with sobs. The demon tightened her hold around this woman, this wonder of a mortal frame.
“Shhh.” She soothed her gently. “Isabel is dead and gone. I would never harm you. I could never harm you, contract or no.”
Slowly, the sobs subsided, and Talia rolled over to embrace Lucia fully. The demon realized she loved the feel of Talia’s skin on hers—beyond the throes of passion, even—and her heart fluttered as they clung to each other.
After a moment, Talia’s tears long dried upon Lucia’s shoulder, the Duke whispered in her ear. “I would have you know me by my name. My true name, the truest part of me.”
Lucia gasped, and then before she could protest, Talia whispered her own true name in the demon’s ear. Lucia knew it belonged to the Duke the moment both syllables passed from her lips. That was the way of a true name. Once spoken, the listener simply knew it could not be any other. It fit this woman perfectly, and Lucia loved her for it.
The name rested upon Lucia’s lips for a moment, sweet as honey. And then the demon whispered it back, putting all of her love into it. “Beautiful,” she added, a paltry description for the wondrous soul bared before her.
And …
And the demon almost reciprocated, her own true name rising to her lips.
But Talia shushed her, knowing her intent as she whispered, “I would have you keep your own soul safe for now, my love.”
Lucia rested her head upon Talia’s arm. It fit so well, there. “Okay,” she said, not fully understanding.
Through the long hours of the night they held each other, before the demon finally succumbed to sleep.