To Bewitch a Devil

227 The forest

Zavian laughed. “Lately Neera, you have been such a humorous presence to have around.”

Neera frowned, confused. “I didn’t even make any jokes.”

Zavian raised his glass her way. “Another beauty you possess.”

Her eyes followed the liquid disappearing down his throat. She took the bottle and poured herself a glass, and reached over to fill his own cup again.

Zavian was not expecting what happened next. Neera leaned to him and kissed him, her lips cold against his. She attempted to pull away, but Zavian caught the back of her head and pulled her back to him.

When the kiss broke off, he had a smile on his lips, his gaze still pinned to hers. Neera sat back, cleared her throat, and took the glass of wine, drinking it as if she had been parched for days.

“You have made today one of the best days of my existence, Neera,” he told her. “You don’t even know how much.”

She gave a little smile, and he drank up his wine. He saw the way the coldness of her face melted a fraction, and there was a twinkle in her eyes with a smile wider than any he had seen her ever wear.

He really hoped that smile would last throughout their lifetime together.

.....

….

Neera looked at the vial in her hand, and into the mirror.

She did not like how the occasional air swept through her, like a gust of wind carrying something she couldn’t decipher. It happened a lot around Zavian, and when it breezed through her, it carried with it something heavy, distant, and she didn’t want to admit, scary.

Was it another curse? Just how many could she handle?

“Look what we finally have,” a voice said from the mirror.

Neera watched as Lydia reached toward the vial, but the barrier of the glass stopped her. Lydia let out a contented sigh.

“I have waited for it for so long,” Lydia said, voice choked with barely held-back tears.

Neera held up the vial, the blood in it swooshing with her action. It only required one kiss. One kiss to hover over Zavian’s glass of wine, and long enough for her to put in two drops of the potion. Zavian had slept off there, and she had done what was needed, even as the gust of heavy air flowed through her.

“Where do I deliver it?” Neera asked.

“We will meet in the forest between the palace and my place, just almost close to the border,” Lydia said. “Oh my, make it tonight if you must.”

Neera looked out at the sky. It was a pitch-dark night and Zavian would soon retire to the chambers.

“He would ask questions,” Neera said.

“Dawn it is then,” Lydia said, her chirpy mood deflated. “And guard that thing with your life, Neera.”

“And the coughs?” Neera asked.

“You have my word,” Lydia said. “You don’t get any nightmares now, do you?”

Neera shook her head. “And who is he? That person that appears.”

Lydia smiled. “Oh Neera, you would come to know very soon, thanks to your help.”

….

“When I said she and the Master shared a bed, you didn’t want to believe me.”

“But how? Her beauty isn’t half that of the demons that walk in here.”

“Imagine having chicken for a long time, roasted, fried, boiled. At some point, it will bore out your taste buds and you would want to have beef once in a while.”

“I don’t mind being his beef once in a while.”

Laughter followed that last statement. Penelope stood outside the door, hearing them bash her to the very low. She should go in and it would all stop, but she couldn’t, and the onslaught went on.

“I heard he grew tired of her rather quickly.”

“Of course! You know Pen. She thinks she is high and mighty, but she is nothing but a maid, just like the rest of us.

“She deserved it, though. What was she thinking?”

Yes, Pen, her inner voice chided her, what were you thinking?

“Do you think she wanted him to wife her?”

“Then she must be absolutely delusional!”

“Think about it. She might agree to become a demon, and if she did…”

“…he won’t marry her!”

“…no wait, imagine she did become a demon and imagine she does marry him. Do you think she will swipe us all for new maids?”

There was a long silence that followed.

“Come on, there is nothing to think about. If our Master ever marries, pigs and horses will fly in the sky instead of doves. Let’s get on to work before we are summoned.”

The rest of the conversation was an intangible one of chores. Penelope could hear the shuffle of their feet, and she knew anytime soon, they would be at the door. But she didn’t move.

The door opened, and one of the maids screamed on seeing her. The others fell quiet, and Penelope met their gazes one by one.

“If I do marry the Master,” Penelope said, borrowing Neera’s intimidation and her threatening words. “Let us hope when I swipe your beds, it would be mattresses in another person’s home and not the ones six feet underground.”

All the maids paled, and Penelope moved past them and into the chambers. She knew her threat was baseless, but it was fun watching them believe it anyways. Like they had explicitly said, Azriel wasn’t one to get married, and if he was, never to her.

Two parallel worlds that could never meet.

She sat on the bed, now alone in the quarters. She avoided being alone at all costs, for her thoughts and feelings bore no mercy when beating her up. But Pen welcomed it this time, welcomed the reprimand, the voice in her head harsh like a wicked master, and she welcomed the inexplicable hurt she felt at Azriel’s actions.

He and Freya were so far better suited, that was till the next beautiful demon caught his eyes.

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