Isalio strode toward the exit without stopping to check if I was following. I glanced at the two open walls where rain still poured in. What would happen if I made a run for it? How many steps could I make before Isalio would strike me down like he had done to the Farmer—or before another Demon decided to make me their next feast?

A snort drew my attention to the Duchess, who eyed me with a strange intensity. "Follow him, Guardian," she said dryly. "If you run now, you'll only make any future escape harder." Then she spun back toward the table to count her pile of coins.

The moment she turned her back, heads swiveled in my direction. My skin tingled with the glow of amber eyes. Could they smell my lifeforce?

I had no idea what the Duchess's motives were, but she was likely right: if I tried to escape right now, I would only create a scene and anger my captor. To have any chance at escaping, I needed to play at obedience until the right moment. And while my body refused to bow to him, I could at least follow.

More Demons wheeled toward me as I passed, noses raised and fangs and claws bared. Then their eyes darted to the High Prince, and they dissipated back into the crowd.

Isalio did not stop until he had opened the door. He stepped back and held the door open for me in a gesture that might have passed as chivalrous if not for the steel in his eyes and the arch of his brow.

Chivalrous, until I made one wrong move.

I wasn't sure I could return his gaze with anything resembling submission, so I ducked my head low as I passed him.

I had just passed through the exit when a hand snagged my forearm. I flinched, anticipating penetrating claws. With a strange combination of relief and disgust, I realized that the hand belonged to Isalio, and that my life force remained intact.

He yanked his hand away from my arm as though he had touched something vile. His gaze never met mine, instead fixed on the space just past the door. There, the two Demon soldiers he had ordered to leave minutes ago bowed low in greeting.

"High Prince," they murmured.

He tilted his chin high and folded his arms over his chest. His still-damp dress shirt and jeans clung to lean, unforgiving muscles, and his posture oozed annoyance and command. I could no longer spot any trace of the naughty child who had addressed the Duchess moments ago.

"Oh, I'm sorry—I must be confused," he said. "I thought I told you to leave...?"

The red-haired Demon gulped. "You did, Highness, but we wish to protect you."

Isalio arched a single sleek brow. "Oh, really? Do I look like I need protection?"

The other Demon fiddled with his pointy black beard. "No, Highness, but the General commanded us to return."

"Hmm." Isalio stroked his chin as if in contemplation, but the look in his eyes sent both soldiers teetering back a step. "And, just to clarify...which order holds more power? Mine, or the General's?"

The first Demon found her voice once more. "We reminded him that your commands outrank his, but then he called upon the Queen and King..."

"They weren't too busy, after all?" Isalio's brows furrowed a little, but his voice remained disconcertingly pleasant. "How shocking."

"They were worried that this Guardian could hurt you, Highness."

"They were worried," Isalio repeated, "that a single, pathetic cow...could hurt me?"

I tried to ignore the stabbing in my chest, not because his words were harsh but because he was right. Injured, cuffed, and surrounded by Demons, I was utterly alone and undeniably pathetic.

The first soldier faltered and shot a glance at the bearded one. He took over. "Anyway, we need to find out what he knows, and we can help you draw answers from him. You shouldn't have to concern yourself with such lowly tasks."

The High Prince shook his head. "He doesn't know anything Borgal doesn't know, and I know everything Borgal knows. The only thing we are missing is sustainable lifeforce, and this cow will tide me over until Borgal can organize our first shipment."

Curiosity overrode my intention to stay quiet. "First shipment...of Guardians?" I asked. "That's your new lifeforce?"

All three Demons stared at me. The two soldiers appeared half befuddled and half amused, and the High Prince... I couldn't interpret his expression. His brow pinched and his lips pursed, but I wasn't sure what thoughts lay below his flickering eyes.

Their silence implied a truth. The new life source was Guardians, and I was at the top of that list. Now it was more important than ever that I escaped to warn my team. And if I died trying, I would at least remove my lifeforce from Isalio's grasp.

"He's pretty curious, for a cow," one of the soldiers commented. Her snorting laugh spilled through the corridor—but she chopped off abruptly when the Prince smiled at her.

I remembered when his hesitant, unwilling smile had made my stomach flutter. Now, his smile made both soldiers jerk back a step.

"Fine," the High Prince said to the soldiers. "If you wish to waste your time following me to this Guardian's prison, I won't stop you. But don't touch him. He's perfectly capable of walking on his own." His eyes flitted toward me. "Isn't that right, Guardian?"

I dropped my eyes to my feet and forced the most submissive tone I could manage. "Yes, Highness."

"Hmm," he said. On the surface level, it was a taunt: an I told you so. But there was something else in his tone that I couldn't quite understand.

The Prince led the way down the hall, and the other two Demons fell into place behind me. With my head ducked, I noticed the strange metal beasts in even more detail. My eyes caught once more on the Rogabeast statue, a surprising likeness to that bizarre winged croc-kitty. I scoured their ranks for something resembling the descriptions I had heard of the Morgabeast, but nothing resembled the descriptions of the horrifying monster that was ripping the world asunder.

Maybe even the Demons had never seen it closely. Maybe the High Prince was the only one who knew exactly what that thing was.

Double doors slid open ahead of us, and we entered a tiny metal room. There was no torture equipment, but also no bed, no windows, no table. Not even a chair. Was this the cell where I would spend my next days—and possibly the rest of my life?

Funny how guilty I had felt for leaving the High Prince tied to a metal chair overnight. When he told me he didn't want to die underground, bitter regret had pinched my chest and restricted my lungs. Now the only regret I felt was for failing to end his life when I had the chance.

The cell rocketed upward.

With my hands still cuffed behind my back, I stumbled forward. Isalio jerked one step toward me before stopping himself. By the time I recovered my balance, he was leaning back against the wall behind him, expression bored.

The room jolted to the right, to the left—and then up once more. I braced myself in the corner and swallowed the bitter saliva that welled up in my mouth. After experiencing Demon modes of transportation, I almost missed the terranean warpers.

When the doors reopened, a wide hallway greeted us. Silver and navy tapestries draped across the walls, interrupted by windows that gaped open to the night sky. Rain spilled into the corridor to soak the lush carpet. Chandeliers swayed in the breeze, and glass vases rattled with each boom of thunder.

The female soldier voiced the same question running through my mind. "Where are we? This is not the dungeon or the barn."

"I'm keeping him close to me," the High Prince, without so much as a glance my way. "I don't trust the Farmers to keep their hands off my property, and I'm not traveling to the dungeon whenever I want something from him."

My stomach twisted. Whenever I want something from him. My lifeforce, or more than just that?

Before the soldiers could protest, Isalio started down the hall. We followed him, wet carpet squelching underfoot. I shot discreet glances at the open windows, trying to glimpse the land beyond. Even squinting, I could only see the rain and the night sky.

If I veered left and ran toward one of those windows, could I make it there before they caught me or struck me down? And if I did leap out in time, what would I encounter? More Demon soldiers? More beasts? With my hands cuffed behind my back, I would not even be able to break my fall, much less fight back enemies. My chances of escape seemed dismal at best, but they could be the best chances I would ever get.

My eyes caught on another prisoner. The sight stopped both my train of thoughts and my feet. His dark eyes were haunted, his curls wild, his uniform soaked and shredded...

Then I did a double-take. That wasn't another prisoner—it was a mirror.

I ripped my gaze away from the disturbing sight to find that all three Demons had stopped to wait for me. Isalio studied me with a faint frown, but when a soldier reached a questioning hand toward me, he shook his head.

Despite the aching pressure in my chest, my feet somehow resumed walking. Isalio pivoted and continued down the hallway without acknowledging the interruption.

We stopped in front of a towering metal door embossed with sharp lines. The High Prince laid a hand on the door, and the lines dissolved into a multitude of concentric circles, like rain on open water. As I stared, a crack appeared in the middle, and the door swung open.

Inside was a metal four-poster bed, a stiff armchair, and a dresser. Rain beat against the ledge of the open window.

The soldiers exchanged a glance, and the male cleared his throat. "Highness...is this your bedroom?"

"No." He tilted his head to the next silver door down the hallway, which was still sealed shut. "That's my bedroom. This one is a spare." He stepped through the door and nodded at the bed. "Take off one of his cuffs and attach it to the bedpost."

As reality sank in, the fury and disgust in my gut brewed even more potent. This was no prison—this was worse. This room was meant for a consort.

My eyes latched on the open window, and my heartbeat ratcheted.

It was large enough for a Guardian.

The soldiers pushed me toward the bed, turned me around, and reached for my cuff. I provided no resistance, head downturned...but hot adrenaline pumped through my veins, and my mind whirred.

A soft click freed one of my hands, and I sprang into action. I wrenched my arms free from the Demons' grasp.

And I charged toward the window.