The Mayaware maids knew about it before Hesi did. They rolled her out of bed by force and shoved into the bathing chambers before sleep fully left her eyelids. Her memory vaguely registered water splashing from heaven in heavy torrents, the cold seeping into her shoulders and legs. Yards of thick wool patted her hair dry, absorbing every drop. Then, oils slicked her scalp, and clawed fingers ran through her long strands until her head was heavy with woven plaits, golden combs, and netted pearls.

The hem of her gossamer dress, one that cut too low on her chest, brushed against the floor with every step her sandaled feet made. A see-through shawl covered her shoulders and ran down her arms. It did nothing to cover her up. She passed by the communal chamber and caught attention from some of them. Rehema's face brightened at the sight of Hesi's dress, giving Hesi a frantic wave and alerting the other women to the door.

By the time they made it to the entrance, the Mayaware maids yanked her towards the palace's gardens, sauntering nearer to the entrance. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at them—the only penance she could give them for being kind in this hostile place.

What meager amusement settling in her nerves vanished when she turned to the Mayaware maids handing her over to the demon soldiers posted at the palace's entrance. "Who summoned me?" she asked.

It was the soldier wearing a golden collar over his chest and carrying a pointed spear who answered. "The Great Prince."

A shiver ran down her spine. The individual meetings were suspended after Mensa got hurt, and they never reached Hesi. But now...

She was the first slate chosen after the second trial.

Why didn't Kharta tell her about this? He should know the High Prince's schedule of bridal summons after every trial. Was Berheqt in on her and the steward's plan and put a stop to it? Perhaps this was a warning, a gentle reminder of what it would be like for humans to cross the Mayaware.

That, or she was being paranoid. She had every right to, considering the state she saw Mensa in. She dreamed about it most nights long after the rumors subsided. It couldn't end that way for her, not when she has a fight to win and an empire to topple.

Kharta's advice rang inside the hollow tubes of her brain. They have to take it slow, to get everything they need before making a move. Until then, they have to play by the rules and not send out strong flares about their goals. The Mayaware weren't forgiving. They were ruthless.

She gulped the lump of fear on her throat. This was another opportunity for her. Mensa didn't show any signs of remembering what happened to her in the High Prince's chambers, leaving her in a darker place than when she started. When she knew light, when she found out the royals had a secret, going back to the shadows of ignorance and indifference was harder. So, if Mensa would not help, the second best thing was to set out and find an answer for herself. Human memory could be faulty, but if she saw it with her own eyes, if she witnessed the cruelty she feared, maybe she would achieve what she wanted—an upper hand in this game of chances.

The royal palace loomed in the horizon, and her Mayaware escorts didn't slow down or let her soak in her dread. She opened and closed her fists; the motion grounded her.

Torches burned in daylight. Their crackles reached her ears when she entered and tackled the familiar corridors of the royal palace. Sunlight shining through the trees fought for dominance with the flickering brightness. Both streams of illumination felt like silent parades ushering her to her doom.

The water in the pool sparkled as though inviting her to jump in and drown to avoid her fate. She had nothing with her—not a knife, a needle, or anything that could hurt a demon or defend herself if the guards turned feral and decided it was time to feast. The Mayaware maids didn't give her enough time to herself this morning, and Kharta was still leagues away from completing his poison. If he took longer, perhaps he would find her body in the next batch of flayed meat or her blood in a bottle aging into wine.

She glanced at her Mayaware escorts as they took an unfamiliar detour upon reaching the enormous slab of rock blocking the entrance to the High Prince's chambers. Their spears' tapered tips glinted against the torch light aiding the ambience of the dimming corridor. Real swords hung in sheathes by the demons' belts, and no amount of punches and clever maneuvers could put a dent on their metal armor. The Mayaware King sent a message to everyone who encountered his soldiers. Don't try anything funny, and she might live.

Emphasis on might.

She clenched her jaw and ground her teeth. She forced herself to look forward, to never let her chin drop even when her back stiffened and her legs developed minds of their own and resisted her. Even if the fear curling at the base of her stomach neber released her intestines from its claws, she wouldn't back down. It was too late now. They stopped before a hidden door leading to a back room. The darkness had never felt so...oppressing. Even though she was familiar with the royal palace, mostly by her volition as well, today was different. Her breathing was uneven. Shallow. She squeezed her eyes shut and took deep breaths. Calm. She could do this. Pai and Unsu waited for no one else.

When she opened her eyes, her gaze landed on thick chains keeping the door's handle in place. The acrid smell of dried blood and rotten meat curled inside and wafted into the corridor, sending a stone of disgust up her throat. She didn't stop her hands and her breath from shaking. No one in their right minds would approach this door, yet here she was.

For Pai. For Unsu. She must do this.

The chains clinked as the Mayaware soldier to her left stepped forward, bearing a golden key. The key slotted into the lock and twisted. With a loud click, the lock broke free. The door eased open through rusty hinges. Strong claws gripped her arms and hauled her into the gaping void when she loitered too long at the edge. A painful shove flared against her shoulder. She stumbled, but righted herself in time for the door to shut behind her with a loud clang. From the other side, the chains clanked again, and the lock clicked shut with a finality she could never undo.

Like a lamb thrown to a lion's den, Hesi Renen stood in the inky darkness, offered to the silent maw of hell.

"Welcome," a silky voice said from the thick darkness. Darpeh, they couldn't light a single lamp here? "Please, have a seat."

Her eyes adjusted with each step she took. Her fingers clawed at the shawl around her shoulders—the only comfort she was thankful for. Harsh silhouettes of lounges, vases, and statues formed in her periphery when she found a low table in the center flanked with two gray cushions. One of them was occupied. Talking never ceased to ease her woes, so did it. "For a demon, you speak Birejyet well." She stalked closer to a bald man sipping tea from the cushion opposite the empty one.

A small laugh gurgled from the demon's throat. "Hazard of the trade," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle for a monster. He gestured to the other cushion without glancing at her. "Please."

"Won't you eat me when I sit down?" she challenged, careful of allowing real fear to lace around her words. If he was smart enough to learn Birejyet, he was smart enough to read her like an open tome.

"I'm already eating dinner, see." The demon prince waved a hand over the scrumptious meal laid before him in dainty gold bowls and literal silver platters. He picked at a slab of human flesh with a two-pronged fork. "You are safe here."

She resisted the urge to snort and roll her eyes. The prince might not like it and attack her. "I bet." She folded her legs on her way to drop into the cushion. With her leaning down, it gave him a complete view down her breasts.

The demon cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to his food. His finger tapped against the rim of a golden goblet no doubt containing Cani—fermented wine made from human blood.

"Go ahead." She tailored her tone to drip with as much acid as she could muster. "Stare at my body until you're satisfied. That is what I am here for."

The High Prince blew a breath—too human of a sound that if not for his bald head and the forked tongue slipping through fangs, she wouldn't spot him in a crowd. "Trust me, that is not." His voice was flat. Then, in a more lively tune—"How is the palace treating you?"

She didn't hold back her snort. The sound reverberated in the darkness before the oblivion digested it. "Are you serious? That is the first question you'll ask me?"

If he took offense, the prince didn't show it. "I have to know." He met her eyes, a look of confusion passing through slitted pupils. "Is the treatment not to your liking?"

She schooled her face into a passive stare. She couldn't tell him that gold and gossamer dresses weren't the treatment she looked for. It would raise too many questions. Instead, she forced a small smile and ducked her head to show respect. "I'm more than happy here, sinn suphrei," she answered, addressing the prince by a title meaning "revered one".

"Mezo," he replied.

She blinked. "Sorry?"

The prince tapped a hand on his chest, rumpling the faded long-sleeved tunic he wore in place of jeweled collars. "My name is Mezophis." Unlike the generals, or even the guards posted outside, he looked more like a human nomad than a Mayaware royal. "Please call me that when we are alone."

She exhaled from her nose. "What is your deal?" she blurted. Coming into this room, she imagined horrible things—a salivating demon, an order meant to kill her—but this was out of this world. The demon prince was gentle. Docile.

How come Mensa got hurt badly?

The demon prince didn't move even when she leaned forward and dropped her chin to her palm, her elbows resting against the table's surface. "I heard many rumors about this room, but it is fine. Beautiful, even."

"I'm glad you found it that way." Mezophis cleared his throat again. "How about your lessons? Is Yobekh treating you well? All the other females don't talk about him."

Of course. Why talk about another demon when one has another up front? Besides, all the other females. She tamped down the anger bubbling in her throat. Not now. She couldn't afford to be pissed off. Not yet.

"Yobekh? He's good." She rolled her shoulders and studied the room through the veil of darkness. She spotted shelves lining the walls. Tables littered the space, resembling Kharta's basement. Occasional vases and palthes stood like sentries in the shadows. "Is this what you do all the time?" she ventured after a beat. "Just having dinner with human women you don't know?"

"It is what my father wishes," the demon answered. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "It would serve me well to submit and meet with the lovely women to give him an heir before the mating season ends."

She stuck her bottom lip out. "Why not from your kind? I'm sure you have your eyes on some lovely maiden out there."

He snorted. It bore a semblance to what she did not long ago. "I am not allowed to leave this room until I bear an hei from a human mate."

"That's..."

He clicked his forked tongue and slapped his forehead. "Ah, why talk about that? You are here so we could get to know each other more, not discuss politics and fathers." He jerked his chin at her. "Loosen up. You look like you are about to assassinate me."

An icy shiver ran down her spine. How did he know? Did he get that information elsewhere? Was it a lucky guess? Was Kharta careless at some point? How much did Mezophis know?

She exhaled and wrestled control of the conversation. Perhaps, she could run him around in circles until he revealed his secret. "Is there something you're curious about?" she asked. "Maybe I can help you. I am...well-traveled."

Mezophis hummed and stuck his fork into a slab of meat. It didn't reach his mouth or even left the plate. He left it there. "Tell me something, then," he said. She raised an eyebrow and encouraged him to continue. "What do humans do in courtship?"

Her saliva went back the wrong way. In a blink, he snatched the higher ground from under her feet, leaving her to crawl her way back up. "Why would you want to know about that?" she said in between coughs she forcibly tamped down. Her voice came out strained.

A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "When interacting with another culture, it is a true honor to assimilate to their practices," he said. "You have been acclimating well to our customs, and I want to honor you by reciprocating."

Well...that certainly was something she didn't expect to come out of a Mayaware's mouth. She tucked a strand of hair that escaped her rigid braids behind an ear. "If you insist..." She stared up at the ceiling, her mind running over the practices she witnessed in various towns she visited. There might have been a few weddings mixed in. "Humans start by getting to know each other. They just talk, share a hobby or two, and try to understand each other. Like this. They tell each other their secrets, enjoy each other's company, and give each other gifts."

The demon prince frowned. "Gifts?" he pondered. "Is it the same thing as a tribute?"

"Close, but not quite," she replied. "You give gifts to make people happy. Gifts are something your partner wants, and giving it to them means you are paying attention, even to the smallest details. It means you are concerned for their happiness."

A look of confusion passed across his face. Oh, no. "What is 'happiness'?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Her mind screeched and halted. This wasn't her expertise. "It's..." She cleared her throat, racking her brain for any mule crap she could spew. Nothing helped. She gripped the edge of the table and closed her eyes. Calm. Clear her mind.

"It's...satisfaction," she said. When her eyes opened, she gave him a small smile. For a moment, she meant it. "It's peace. The absence of danger. It is a celebration of life, a feeling of contentment. Happiness...it is something humans strive for but never find."

"Why do you think that is?"

"This world we live in," she answered. "It stands in the way."

The demon prince was silent. His meal lay forgotten before them. The fork remained stuck in the meat slab like a flag that would never be taken down. "I'm sorry." She shook her head and sighed. "I didn't mean to kill the mood." She meant to kill something else, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind.

He blinked and flinched. "Oh, it is of no consequence." He laid a hand on the table's rim, hard enough to jostle the platters. "But you should go. Now."

She narrowed her eyes. Why was the prince's tone clipped when it was at ease earlier? Did she upset him? Shouldn't she have talked about happiness and blamed the world for her lack of it, the world that he and his kin ruled?

"When you reach the door, knock twice, and the guards will let you out," he continued, his tone petering to a flat landscape. That concluded their talk, however short. "I hope you enjoyed my company."

She pushed off the table and ducked her head at him. "I will look forward to the next audience, sinn suphrei," she said. "I shall be off."

He gave her a brief nod, and she turned towards the way she came. Before she stepped off his view, she risked a glance back, and if not for the shadows thickening around her, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of silver fangs and heard scales unfurling.

She did the smartest thing—dash out of the room and shove the memories of her meeting with the prince to the back of her head. If she wasn't careful, if she searched deeper, then she might betray humanity with her words. Because if she was completely honest with herself, she meant every word in the last thing she said to Mezophis.

What should she think of that?