When he reached the chair, he stopped and darted a glance at the bed where I sat, just three feet away. Sidestepping the chair, he sank down onto the floor on the far side, six feet from me. His shoulders slowly rolled back against the wall, as if to avoid making any sound. He fished a cuff from his pocket and snapped it over his wrist. Then he pulled his knees up halfway to his chest and strummed his thighs, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him.

"You can sit on the chair, you know," I said. "I won't hit you."

His eyes remained averted. "You can hit me now, if you want. I'm wearing a cuff, so I'm in control."

His quiet sincerity filled me with cold unease. Like he had no problem with being my punching bag so long as he didn't accidentally hurt me. I wasn't willing to apologize for punching him, not after all he had done to me, but his offer rubbed me the wrong way. I felt like the cruel owner of an abused animal.

"I won't hit you," I repeated, and then I lifted the bottle of zaikut. "Want some?"

At that moment, I wasn't really scheming to get him drunk—I just wanted him to relax a little. But he shook his head, still not looking at me.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Worried I'll take advantage of you?" I said, keeping my voice light. "Is that why you're hiding behind that chair?"

"You told me to stay away from you."

"Because I was angry."

"And now you're not?"

I hesitated. I'd been angry for fourteen years, and the events of a few days ago had doubled that anger. But right now, my confusion over the Duchess's revelations—coupled with the warm buzz of zaikut—muddied my anger, softening its edges.

Instead of answering his question, I changed the topic. "The human servant you sent seems happy. A little too happy."

"Not all humans hate Demons."

"So Zuzette truly came to work here by choice? She is not under a slave bond?"

He huffed a bitter laugh. "You Guardians are so convinced that any human who doesn't love you has been brainwashed by a Demon. This is why I hate Guardians. Not only did they imprison Demons with the flowery-worded Accords, but they are self-righteous hypocrites who have tortured as many humans as they've saved."

A spark of anger reignited inside of me, both at myself and at him. Even though I didn't approve of Guardians torturing humans, I hadn't done enough to stop them. But the High Prince had murdered countless innocent humans and Guardians. He had no right to pretend we were the bad guys.

"That's why you were so eager to use Guardians as cows," I said. "You probably smiled while you led them into your barn."

"They're in the dungeon, not the barn. The General wanted to see if he could train any of them first."

The zaikut that had warmed me moments ago now sloshed cold in my belly. I stared at the half-empty bottle, feeling nauseous. "You promised me you'd look for a different option."

He shifted toward me, drawing one knee under the chair. "Remgar, there is no better option. If I don't take lifeforce whenever the Keeper tells me to, more humans will die. And if I don't take lifeforce from Guardians, I have to take it from humans."

I ripped my gaze away from the bottle to blink at him. "The Keeper? So the crows warn when the Morgabeast is about to make another attack? And what you told me at the base was true, wasn't it? That you're losing control of—"

"Stop." His voice was loud and sharp enough to silence me. "Stop," he repeated, quieter this time. "You don't know what you're saying, and you can't repeat that in front of anyone else."

"Why not? Why are you so desperate to hide your declining control?"

He closed his eyes, expression pained. "Look, Guardians are supposed to be protectors. Would you really prefer we use humans for lifeforce?"

That argument left me defeated and frustrated. "If you want Guardian lifeforce," I said, "Then take mine."

His jaw set with an audible clack, and he grated his reply through his teeth. "Remgar, no."

"Why not? If you have no problem with leeching from Guardians, why won't you take lifeforce from me? Is this just because I was too weak to torture you when I should have?"

His eyes glinted with anger. "You weren't weak. I was. We planned for Marqan to torture me. I'm strongest when I'm in pain, and I knew just the right things to say to get him to take off my cuffs when I was strongest."

I scoffed. "Marqan wouldn't have been manipulated as easily as I was."

"Not as easily—far easier. He accidentally killed the last Demon he tortured, so all I had to do was persuade him I was dying. Then my cuffs would come off, I would take his lifeforce, and I would use that energy and pain to tear open the base."

At the calculated certainty in his voice, cold fingers wrapped around my gut. "Then why did you beg me to stay?"

He shrugged. "In theory, I can tolerate torture. But when I actually got underground, I started to remember how... well, you looked like a more fun option."

Started to remember what, Isalio? But I dismissed that part and latched onto the last thing he said. "More fun because you could manipulate me with a kiss."

Several seconds passed in silence. Then he drew a slow breath and spoke very quietly. "That kiss was my worst idea. It might have affected you, but you have no idea what it did to me."

I searched his face for any trace of sarcasm or teasing, but he looked perfectly serious. "Then tell me," I said, though I was afraid to hear his answer—afraid to fall back in that hole. "What did it do to you?"

His eyes met mine, and they were softer now. "I didn't know a kiss could feel like that. I didn't know I could feel so... you appeal to me far too much. You have no idea how hard it is for me to hold back."

"Then don't hold back. You said my lifeforce is strong, and Guardians regenerate. I'd rather you take my lifeforce than hurt anyone else."

"Of course you'd say that." He swallowed and shook his head. "But I can't. If I take an ounce of your lifeforce, I don't think I'll be able to stop. And you won't regenerate if I kill you."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"Well, I'm not."

His voice was still quiet, but the raw intensity there silenced me. When I tried to study his face, he turned away to look at the floor in front of him again. The chair sliced a shadow across his sharp features, obscuring his expression.

"Come sit on the chair," I commanded.

For a moment, he didn't respond, and I thought he would refuse, but then he crawled toward the chair and perched on the far edge. His hands gripped his thighs, and his eyes pinned to the ground near my feet.

"I know you have every reason to hate us," he said, "But not all Demons are entirely evil. Zuzette is happy because she has a good job. The human servants here all report to the Duchess, and she ensures they are treated well."

I had no reason to believe him, but I also couldn't think of any reason for him to lie. In fact, I wasn't sure why my opinion mattered to him at all. It wasn't as though I had the power to stop him.

"The Queen and King gave the Duchess that duty?" I asked.

He sideglanced me, looking surprised by the question—or maybe surprised that I wasn't challenging his statement about Demons. "The Queen did. It was a compromise, of sorts, since the Duchess is not allowed to defend the prisoners or cows."

"The Duchess cares that much about humans?"

He nodded. "She used to visit humans in the barn as a child, and she fell in love with a human boy. When she found the human boy near death, she finally Snapped. She summoned the Rogabeast and somehow managed to give the boy lifeforce instead of taking it."

"So that's why she has the power to heal."

"Yes, but it didn't work out well for her that first time. She gave him too much lifeforce, almost killing herself. By the time she regained consciousness, the High Princess—now the Queen—had killed the human boy."

"You mean your mother," I said.

"Right," he said, his voice distant and unreadable. "But don't tell anyone I told you this. It took me years to persuade the Duchess to tell me how she Snapped, and she asked me not to share the story with anyone else."

My eyes dropped to the bottle of zaikut. I could see why she chose to numb herself most of the time. "Was she giving me lifeforce when she healed me?"

"Yes."

"How does she not run out? Demons don't regenerate, right?"

"Demons don't, but the Rogabeast does, and she shares lifeforce with the Duchess. I guess when we Snap, we summon the beast with the powers we desire most at that moment."

"And you wanted the Morgabeast?"

His whole body grew rigid. He met my eyes, but he seemed to be looking beyond. The coldness in his amber gaze chilled me to the core. "I wanted to destroy the world."

I should have pulled away from him, but my curiosity overrode all instinct for self-preservation. I found myself leaning closer, palms flipped up. "Isalio... did you really kill my family?"

He clasped his hands on his lap, fingers digging into his knuckles. "I'm sure I did."

That answer stung more than expected. The moment that haunted me for the last fourteen years was for him utterly insignificant. "You don't remember them."

"I don't remember much from that time. I remember killing many, many humans and Guardians, and a few Demons, too. And I remember that it was never enough."

His voice held an eerie absence of emotion. I probably should have felt afraid or appalled, but I was too drunk and emotionally exhausted for that. Besides, I couldn't help noticing how his fingers dug harder into his knuckles as he spoke, whitening the skin. It was almost as if he wanted me to blame him—wanted to be sworn at or punched.

So instead, I asked, "Why did you Snap, Isalio?"

His gaze dropped to my feet once more. "I should go," he whispered.

"You killed my family." The words left me a dry rasp, not so much an accusation as a defeated reminder. "Don't you think you at least owe me some answers?"

But he seemed to have entered some distant world in which he could barely hear me, and any connection between us was lost. "My answers wouldn't help you. All I can do is hurt you. You were right to tell me to stay away."

He unlocked the cuff on his wrist and slipped it back into his pocket. Then he jerked up to his feet and started toward the door.

Without thinking, I jogged toward him and grabbed his wrist. A spark of electricity jolted up my arm before he yanked his hand free and stumbled back a step.

"I told you not to touch me when I'm uncuffed," he hissed, baring elongated teeth.

I planted my feet and squared my shoulders. "You said you wanted to make this less painful for me. I have an idea."

He drew a shaky breath, and his teeth shrank back to human size. "What, then?"

"I want to go outside."

"Rem..." His voice was pained. "You know I can't free you yet."

I shook my head. "I'm not asking for freedom. Zuzette told me there's a palace garden. I just want to touch the ground for a few minutes. Up here, I can't feel the First Guardian at all."

His eyes moved slowly between mine, and his brow furrowed. "You wouldn't be able to leave my sight."

"I assumed as much."

"You won't escape."

"I know."

He hesitated, biting his lip... then nodded. "Alright. I'll be back at sunrise."