Lord of the Night

Chapter 19: A Request

"A request," I repeated flatly.

He flicked a finger, and the lamp beside the bed lit up the room. I wondered if Demons didn't have light switches or if he was reminding me of his power. He strode toward the bed, slipped the satchel off of his shoulder onto the bedside table, and slid out a small plastic container.

"First, you should eat," he said.

A spicy, savory aroma wafted from the container, wringing a growl of hunger from my stomach. Still, my eyes remained on Isalio.

According to the Duchess, Isalio needed more lifeforce, but he sure didn't seem lacking right now. He hummed with power, enough to raise the hairs on my arms in such close proximity. The electric light revealed the tense line of his mouth and eyebrows, the fine black hair slickened to his neck by sweat, and the shadows dancing in his amber gaze.

When I first met him, he had appeared so short and vulnerable. Now he seemed to tower over me as he studied me, and I froze like a prey caught between the claws of a predator.

His eyes met mine, and he exhaled and ducked back a step. With that one little step, the energy shifted a little—as though the predator just realized his prey was venomous.

"Well, the wound on your arm is healed," he said quietly, "So you won't have any scars."

I scoffed at the reassurance. Was I supposed to be relieved that my skin was still smooth when I was torn apart inside? "Are you worried those scars could make me less pretty?"

He frowned. "Those scars would mark you as a cow."

His tone was acidic, although the acidity was not directed at me. I remembered what the Duchess said about Isalio once hating the idea of cows.

But she also said he had changed.

"The Duchess says you will use my lifeforce eventually," I said.

"The Duchess has very little faith in me."

"Is she wrong?"

His brow furrowed, and he hesitated for a minute. Then he fiddled with the left sleeve of his dress shirt, rolling it up to expose a thick bracelet hugging his left wrist. "I'm very good at controlling myself when I'm wearing one blocker cuff."

This revelation baffled me. He had worn a cuff when cleaning my arm on the flying ship as well. Was he really dimming his powers just to prevent himself from taking my lifeforce?

My eyes drifted from the cuff back up to his face. "Then you do crave my lifeforce? Need it, even?"

He rolled his sleeve back down and tipped his head toward the food container. "Eat, Remgar."

My own tiredness drained my fight. I pulled the container onto my lap with my uncuffed hand and lifted the cover. Steam billowed up from minced vegetable patties and a duck breast curry. Tucked beside them was a fork just as plastic as the container.

I tasted a patty first, then shoveled some curry into my mouth. The patty featured a perfect blend of cardamom, cumin, and green chillies, and the duck melted in my mouth. My stomach gurgled, urging me onward. I hadn't eaten anything this delicious since before the dominion of Demons.

Since before the Demon in front of me killed my mother and brother.

Queasiness sloshed through my gut, and I set the half-eaten container on the bedside table. As so many humans and Guardians struggled to find enough to eat and slept on mounds of the floor, here I was lounging on this plush mattress in front of my captor, munching away happily like a cow.

Isalio ventured one step toward me. "What happened? You don't like the food?"

"I don't like being chained to your bed."