Page 65 of Mated to Monsters
I’m too enthralled by the clothes to worry about their contempt. How many nights have I snuck down to look at the dresses I’ll never wear while my fingers burned from needle pricks?
“Wow.” Try as I might, I can’t see a single stitch in the fabric. All of the tunics have been constructed with some sort of magic I’ve never seen, almost as if they’ve been conjured wholecloth. Even dark elves needed to make minor adjustments to their designs. “This is insane.”
Remembering how easily the servants had entered before, I bring a few of the strange clothes with me into the washroom. At least this room has a lock. The entire room is made of the same black stone that permeates the rest of this world, and magical lights glow above me, floating near the ceiling.
It’s like I’m suspended in an ocean of black.
I hastily remove my old clothing and tug the new tunics on. The fabric molds against my skin, tightening and adjusting on its own, until what had looked like a well made, albeit plain, tunic, has transformed into a long, beautiful dress. I think of the color blue, and it turns blue. Green, and it turns green. I think of the precise shade of my favorite flower, and it blossoms into a stunning red.
I play at this for a while, and I lounge around the luxurious room he’s provided me with for even longer. I wait and wait and wait for this demon prince, my fingers twitching with the effort to keep them away from where I need them the most, until I can’t take it any longer.
“I can’t go downstairs and I can’t go upstairs.” I open my bedroom door and sure enough, there are the dark elves, glaring at me. I smile at them both, which they seem to take as a personal insult but the curl of their lips. “Where can I go?”
“You are permitted in the sitting room or the library.” The elf looks as though he’s tasted something particularly sour. “Both are on this floor.”
“Thank you.” I wait a moment. “And where on this floor might they be, exactly?”
They reward me with matching blank stares.
It doesn’t occur to them to escort me to either place, but it’s not like they’ll let me get away with going anywhere I shouldn’t. They stalk behind me as though they’re likars in an open field, preparing to pounce if I touch the wrong thing.
My skin crawls just having them near me, but I ignore it and begin my search for the library. I don’t know if I’ll be able to read any of the books, but we seem to speak the same language. Hopefully their writing is similar. Maybe I can figure a little more out about this world, since everything the King told me has been a lie.
I don’t have to worry about searching for the library for long. The main hall leads directly to it, and the amount of books makes me dizzy. There have to be thousands upon thousands, all neatly stacked on towering black shelves. Bright red lightning dances in the large windows along the far side of the room, and warm lights burn above me.
It’s almost cozy.
The sensation is a bit disorienting, but comforting. So little on Protheka ever felt safe, and this world has been even worse. Until now, I thought demons were too tough to sit on a soft chair and read, but here there are several long, comfortable looking seats. There’s even a fire stoked in a hearth.
Okay, yes, there is a skull embossed in the center of the fireplace. I suppose demon-cozy is slightly different from human-cozy, but the room is nice all the same.
I’ve just pulled an interesting book from the shelf next to me when I hear footsteps. My heart slams in my chest, and all the desire I’ve been suppressing rushes back.
Is it the Prince?
Something scrapes against the shelf behind me, and I work up the courage to turn around.
It’s a demon, all right. I can tell by the horns on his head, which are currently pushing A History of Demonic Agriculture and The Treatise of T’Morath the Wise off the shelf. He’s bent low, as though if he hides his face I can’t see that he’s there.
He’s a child. The posture is so much like my adopted brother and sister it nearly stops my heart. I crouch down in turn, as though I could ever intimidate a creature like him, and keep my voice soft.
“Hello.”
My voice sends him scrambling back, and several more books fly from the shelves. I hold my hands up, palms out.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I’m just here to look at books.”
The boy finally looks at me. His eyes are huge, larger than any demon I’ve seen, and I wonder if that’s because he’s young, or if he’s a type of demon I’ve yet to see before. He stretches open his mouth, and even his tiny fangs are cute.
“Why are your teeth like that?” His brow furrows, and he tilts his head at my hands. “Are your claws broken?”
“Oh.” I wiggle my fingers. “No. No, I don’t have claws or fangs, although they might have come in handy a few times recently.”
“Are you a slave?”
Am I?
The dark elf servants surely don’t seem to think so, seeing as how they resent having to wait on me every day. But I’m restricted to one floor of this grand palace. I can’t go downstairs and I can’t go for a walk outside and I can never, ever go home.