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Eight: Chimia

Nero would have been a nurturing lover.

I could tell by the way he anticipated my moves, led without forcing me to follow, and contoured his body to meet my curves. For what felt like hours, we danced together without sharing a single word, and I felt I had never been so close to becoming one with another being. There was no passion or heat there, just a natural chemistry. We were speaking another language with our limbs, gently pressed by the pulse of the song's rhythm.

The music was still pulsing through me when, at last, we stopped to rest.

A server rushed to bring us drinks on a tray as if she'd been watching anxiously the entire time we danced for her opportunity to do her singular task. I drank one, returned the empty cup to the tray, and selected another before Nero decided at all. He leaned back against the couch we inhabited together and sipped his drink quietly, examining it closely. My eyes darted across the room, taking in the movement around us, looking anywhere but at Mal. He'd cut my leash and let me loose, so loose I would be. The last thing I wanted was to seem like I was looking for him during my first moments of real freedom in the city.

I finally turned to look at Nero and realized that, though it looked like he was just really intrigued by the drink he'd picked up, he was carefully sweeping the room, totally at ease but intimately familiar with his surroundings. Fen had been entirely accurate in his description of Malfizan's second in command, though I found I was still intrigued. Perhaps it was intentional, but something about Nero made me feel as though he were an abyss of boundless mystery. Fen said that he was a regular ranking demon, that he was responsible primarily for keeping things running smoothly, and that he had a habit of visiting brothels. None of this was surprising, but what shocked me was that Nero had given himself over in servitude to Mal after only a century of freedom from his last master.

"Have you always lived in Echelon?" I asked Nero, words stretching and bending in ways I did not intend. "I mean, I guess you had to live in Hades' kingdom at some point, but." I found that I was frustrated with myself, almost like my body and my consciousness were growing further away from one another.

Nero smiled, carefully, and turned to look at me as he set his drink down, inadvertently drawing us closer to one another. "Ah, I've almost forgotten that you are so young, and perhaps you do not know. Demons are not the spawn of King Hades. Our history precedes his birth. We do not answer to him. We simply see eye to eye and do not mind inhabiting the same space. Much like the people who flocked to the town Mother Corra built, or like your protector who serves his Queen because it is his place in the world, not simply because she is more powerful. "

I nodded, letting my eyes trail off again out into the cave, my ego shrinking a little at his words; Nero was kind but had still managed to make me feel like a child.

My body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, the air around us was becoming thicker and warmer as more bodies filed inside, and the music seemed to grow louder, more intense all of a sudden. I felt the pit of my stomach tighten, but I ignored it and pressed on. My intuition was pressing me to pay attention to my surroundings, but my mind was finding it difficult to focus on any one thing for too long, least of all whatever was making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"So for you, this is just like...living in Downtown Underworld, then?"

Nero grinned, but didn't laugh at my joke, and I realized I was being more transparent than I thought. The demon, who could have been my twin for all his silver hair and translucent skin, leaned forward, slipping one of his hands over my hip and brushing the curve of my neck with his warm, soft lips. A shudder went up my spine, a mixture of lust and fear zapping my senses into sobriety.

This was a threat.

"You will find out everything you want to know about this fair city in due time, Princess. Don't be in such a hurry." I felt my sense of balance tilt, and knew at that moment as my last drink started to warm my belly that I was past the comfortable level of intoxication I'd been hoping to reach. "Go and talk to him," he added, nodding his head in Mal's direction. "You've been pretending not to watch each other all night. Perhaps you will find that the two of you are not as different as you think, hmm?"

Nero's actions served their point; I was vulnerable, here. Future Queen or not, I was a long way from home, and maybe I really should start taking Mal's advice. It was bold of me to try to interrogate Mal's second-in-command, much less drunk like I was. In a public space as we were.

A server appeared again, taking my now-empty glass and replacing it with another. I wanted to ask for water and food, but I couldn't. I was overwhelmed. Mindlessly, I took my dance partner's advice and moved to where Malfizan was still sitting, his arms stretched across the back of the sofa and his head bent backward, eyes on the ceiling. His drink lay abandoned on the table in front of him, and I wondered if maybe he, too, was drunk and tired, and might want to retire to The Palace for the night where we could find peace and calm in the open air of a balcony and--

Oh.

I finally saw her. Well, the back of her head, bobbing up and down from over the coffee table. A startled gasp escaped my lips before I could recover, and Malfizan's eyes snapped to me, panicked. I'd seen a thing or two in Mal's private room from the corner of my eye while I'd been dancing and determined that this sort of overt sexuality was just par for the course of the night, but for some reason seeing him partake was nauseating.

I heard his booming voice call after me as I ran, carried forward by frenzied feet that I could not control. I ignored him and disappeared out of the door and down a series of intricate, nonsensical hallways until I found myself catapulting randomly into a room with an open door.

The room was crowded, but it wasn't loud. Soft, eerie jazz music played through the dimly lit space where people stood elbow to elbow chatting in low, confident voices. There were no decorations, just a long bar along one side and several tables and booths wherever space was available. It was built for function, it seemed, but, more importantly, the inhabitants all stopped what they were doing to gawk at me. It was clear that I had stumbled into a place where I did not belong.

I felt sturdy hands wrap around my forearms from behind, but I didn't startle. I knew who it was from the frustrated, wrathful energy that was pulsing from his body through to my own. He must have said something, but I did not hear. Like a wayward child, I allowed my guardian to drag me out of the lion's den I'd sent myself hurtling into. I knew he was going to yell at me, but I decided not to give him the chance, pushing myself out of his grip the moment we were alone.

"I would have been fine on my own," I hissed.

"It was a mistake bringing you here at all. We're going home," he snarled.

I narrowly dodged his attempt to grab me by the wrist and we stood, for a moment, in a standoff, glaring at one another. "You are overstepping your position, Mal," I warned. "It is not you who has control here. I'm your future Queen, not some idiot child you've been tasked with babysitting for a week. You will begin taking my commands as they're given to you, and now I command you to let go of me." Mal didn't back down, but tightened his grip on my wrist. There were several magical ways out of my predicament, but the alcohol could lead my power wayward, and I had faced enough humiliation for a night.

"You have no idea how dangerous that was," he roared, his domineering form moving closer to leer above my head, his face and eyes corrupted by his wrath. My resolve melted into a puddle at my feet; I had never seen him this upset before. Not even with my mother. Not even the night I'd betrayed him at school. "You're reckless, arrogant, and acting like a child in front of the city you hope to command, Alchimia. You're making a fool of yourself and of me. Who do you think they're going to blame if something happens to you?"

"Maybe you are to blame," I shot back, the words flying out before I could stop them. "You brought me here, you got me drunk, then you loaded me off on your friend for what? So you could take a load off in someone's mouth while I was vulnerable?"

There was a brief silence, then Mal shook his head, picked me up, and threw me unceremoniously over his shoulder like a rag doll.

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