I glanced again at my father, a shriveled shadow of his former self. Fear, anger, and despair overwhelmed me. In my darkened vision, Danif's smile appeared to widen beyond possible proportions, defying the boundaries of his face. My hands shook with the urge to remove that smile permanently.

But I couldn't do that right now. Right now, I needed to ensure my father's safety for as long as I could.

"Fine," I said. "I'll do it. Tell me more."

I listened with a careful numbness as Danif explained his plan. He described each step like a passionate professor delivering one of his favorite lectures, a smile never leaving his face. Nausea churned my gut and images pelted my mind, but I kept it all to myself, voicing only one neutral question.

"Do the Queen and King approve of this plan?"

He tilted his head in consideration. "More or less. They don't know the details, and they don't ask, but they like that I keep Isalio under control."

It was hard for me to believe any parent could approve of this, even an evil one. I had punched the High Prince, and part of me wanted to do it again, but to imagine what Danif's retraining might entail—that was as awful as the sight of my father before me.

As he led me back to the room, I barely even noticed the nausea induced by the journey. I sat on the bed and watched the door close behind the General. Then I began to pace the room, footsteps speeding up in time with my stampeding thoughts. There had to be some hole in his scheme...some way for me to ensure my father's safety without giving the General complete power to fulfill his twisted desires.

Could I break my father out myself? No, impossible. Beg Isalio to help me? He had not reason to comply, and even if he did, he probably didn't have the power to help me. The Queen, King, and General already distrusted Isalio, and in the likelihood that we didn't succeed, there was a high chance the General would be given easy clearance to do as he liked to both my father and Isalio. But then what option remained?

The cuff weighed heavy in my pocket.

I sank down on the bed and dug out the cuff, examining it. The object itself appeared inoffensive, a rubber-covered metal band as wide as two of my fingers and plated in a way that looked almost decorative. A strange heat curled around my gut. In very different circumstances, maybe I'd enjoy putting these cuffs on Isalio. In a different life, maybe I'd enjoy his helpless submission when I kissed him until he was panting and begging me for more.

Then the cold reality slammed back into me, smothering the heat. This time, I would enjoy kissing Isalio less than I had last time. Even though he had betrayed me, I didn't relish the thought of betraying him. Perhaps I could have stomached ending his life with a quick blow of a Demon-Slayer mace. To put him at the mercy of Danif's twisted desires...no, I didn't want that for anyone, and I definitely didn't want that for Isalio.

After another hour of pondering, I had finally reached a decision—not one I liked, but the one I disliked the least. I would follow through with the plan at the start, but I would look for an excuse not to continue or a way to sabotage the General's plan along the way. If all else failed, I would try to leave a message for the Duchess. Maybe, just maybe, she'd have a better idea for how to save her nephew than anything I could come up with.

At the time the General designated, I knocked on the wall near the bathroom. That wall was connected to Isalio's room, he told me, and Isalio would be in his room at that time, changing for dinner. Part of me hoped the plan would fall apart right then and there; that Isalio would either not hear the knock or not bother to check my room. But just as the General had promised, Isalio arrived less than a minute later.

He opened the door but did not enter, leaning against the door frame with eyes on me. His jeans were not fully buttoned, and only a rumpled undershirt hugged his lean chest. My chest tightened at the sight. He had come fast, not even bothering to finish changing first.

"I heard a knock," he said, "And I thought maybe...were you calling for me?"

That light, cautious tone reminded me of how he had offered his hands when I strapped them down to rip off his fingernails. In this case, it was more like he was extending his neck beneath an ax.

"Yes," I said, surprised by how calm my voice sounded despite my thumping heart. "I have a question...and a request."

"Alright." This time the words were drawn out—skeptical, but unwillingly invitive.

I continued before I could lose my nerve. "In the garden, the General said he always keeps his promises. Is it true?"

His brow furrowed. "Yes, it's true. That's why my mother agreed to elect him to the position...everyone knows he has never failed to keep a promise."

I should have been pleased to hear that claim, but it wasn't the answer I wanted. Even though I was determined to help my father, I was still searching for a reason not to obey Danif. A reason not to leave Isalio's fate in his hands.

"And the request?" Isalio asked.

"This morning, you let me feel the earth again." I forced myself to meet his eyes, keeping my expression emotionless even as my heart ached. "Tonight, I'd like to see your favorite place. You told me that from the top floor of the palace, you can see several towns?"

As I said the words, I heard Danif's voice in my mind: Only the Royal Family and I have access to the top floor of the palace. No one will see or hear anything.

Isalio's head turned down and right slightly, though his eyes remained on mine. "You really want to spend more time with me? Even after what happened this morning?"

His suspicion both scared and relieved me. He knew this was no simple request. He would turn me down, and maybe punish me too, as he should have done earlier. Then Danif would realize his plan would not work and that Isalio was not quite as subservient to me as he had believed.

"I know you didn't want to hurt me," I said. It was a meaningless, manipulative assurance, but it was also the truth. I believed the pain in his voice and his eyes, both then and now. It would have been easier if I thought he was lying. "I also know you can't free me yet, and this is the closest thing I can get. If I can see the towns, they won't feel quite as far away."

My voice choked during the last sentence, though I wasn't sure why. Was it the thought of those free humans and Guardians I had been forcibly separated from? Or was it Isalio's reaction—the slow blink and tiny exhale, the downward drift of his shoulders?

How could someone so good at manipulation be so easy to manipulate?

"Alright," said Isalio, just as slowly and unwillingly as before. Unwilling to trust me, but even less willing to refuse me. "I'll come back after dinner."

***

When several hours passed without Isalio's return, I began to fear—and hope—that he had changed his mind. But then the door swung open, and Isalio strutted into the room.

The last time I had seen him, his sweet nervousness had nearly broken my resolve. Now, he appeared every bit the emotionless High Prince who had sloshed through the corridors of the Guardian base after murdering so many of my comrades; the Prince who sucked lifeforce from so many humans; the monster who had made both fellow Demons and me writhe on the ground with barely a flick of his fingers.

"Come," he ordered, with the kind of cold command that suggested this was his idea, not mine. His suit jacket was rolled up just far enough that I could see his bare wrists.

Good. If Isalio maintained this demeanor, my task would be easier. The only question was whether he would still agree to the kiss. What if he agreed but didn't put on a cuff? What if he drained my lifeforce instead of giving me the chance to overpower him? The thought might have relieved me, if not for the fear over my father's fate that still twisted my guts.

Mind racing, I followed him out of the room. He led me up a stairwell—a choice that puzzled me more with each new turn and with each increasingly dusty corridor and staircase. Dust outlined his feet ahead of me and fluttered beneath my own.

My eyes drilled the glossy black hair on the back of his head as we climbed. Why, Isalio? Why fulfill my request at all, and why take the stairs? I wished for the sickening jerks of the transporter room, and I even wished for him to hit me with a bolt of power once more. To send me to the ground, shaking and gasping. To remind me of the monster he was.

The stairs ended, and a narrow corridor led to a single door with a dust-encrusted handle. Isalio slid a key into the lock, and the door creaked open. He motioned for me to pass through and then relocked the door behind us. That didn't matter—the General would give his soldiers a key.

Even though Isalio had described the room to me before, the panoramic view knocked me back a step. A tall ceiling and gaping floorboards sliced out through the sky at random jagged angles. Pillars scattered the room, each covered with vibrant, impressionistic art. The walls were all composed of glass so sheer the ground seemed to spill out beneath me as if I were flying. The forests and villages and night sky stretched into the distance with flickers of light against the dark like the last embers in a fire pit.

And then... then my eyes landed on him.

First Guardian be damned, why did he have to look so handsome tonight? And how had I not noticed sooner? Open black suit jacket, fitted white t-shirt, gray jeans. Pale skin, black hair. A monochrome masterpiece.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, his gaze trailing along the far window. That flash of amber appeared softer than usual, and his eyelashes longer, casting a shadow across his sharp cheekbones.

"Yes," I agreed, though my eyes refused to leave him. Fuck, how could I destroy something so beautiful?

A monster's beauty was irrelevant, I reminded myself. But still, discomfort wriggled through me. I knew how many lives he had destroyed, but a part of me still didn't see him as a monster.

I saw a broken man.

He paced past me, seemingly unaware of the storm in my heart. "That's Anyalasa," he said softly, lifting a finger toward a few dim lights on the horizon. "You see, they're rebuilding. There has been light there every night, and there are more lights now than before."

Remembering the children there, my throat swelled. "I visited there, before I last saw my father." The lie slipped out easily because I didn't catch it until after I was finished. No, that wasn't the last time I saw my father. "Less than half the people are left, and the buildings were all demolished." My eyes found the sparks of light in the distance, and I imagined the light in the eyes of the human boy in front of me. "They served the Demons well, and you still destroyed them."

I was looking for more reason to hate him—but I was also looking for a reason not to. At the base, Isalio had appeared vaguely alarmed when I told him what had happened to Anyalasa. I wanted to hear confirmation that he didn't intend to hurt them.

Isalio's gaze darkened, but he turned away before I could read his expression. "That brighter spot is Sitaklasa, still standing as strong as ever. On that horizon, you can see Torglasa. We can't see Pataklasa, but that's the same direction not too much further."

"They haven't been attacked? Torglasa and Pataklasa?"

I was certain he would understand my real question—Torglasa meant Fraschkit, and Pataklasa meant my father. Or at least, Pataklasa should have meant my father. According to Danif, the Demons had captured my father when he was wandering the desert. Still, I wanted to confirm Fraschkit's safety and discern whether Isalio knew anything about my father.

Isalio's eyebrows ticked a little closer, but his voice remained neutral. "The Morgabeast killed a few people in Pataklasa, but the Demon soldiers have been ordered not to attack those towns."

His detached answer puzzled me. Had he given the order not to attack those towns? Did he even control the Morgabeast anymore? At any rate, it certainly sounded like he didn't know what had happened to my father.

According to the General's plan, I would now guide the conversation to more intimate matters, before eventually initiating a kiss. However, the General had overestimated my abilities in that regard. The very thought of false flirting dried out my throat and squeezed my stomach into knots. Instead, I pushed out graceless, fumbling words.

"Can I kiss you?"

Wide eyes fastened on me, and his body froze, chest lifted. The High Prince persona had disappeared entirely, leaving someone even more confused and even more confounding than the prisoner I had once been tasked to torture.

His lips moved in a voiceless whisper: "What?"

I swallowed, a colossal effort that required more muscles than I could have imagined. "It's a beautiful night, and I'd like a distraction. I'd like to kiss you...if that's alright."

He stared so intently I felt he was reading every word in my mind—every word in my soul. With each second that passed, I grew more and more certain that he saw straight through my scheme. And while part of me begged him to set aside his trepidations and allow me full access, another part of me begged him to refuse.

Save yourself, Isalio. Turn back before it's too late.

His hand slid into his pocket, and a second later, he snapped a cuff over his wrist. "Alright," he said once again. "Do what you want with me, Remgar."