Another week compressed into days I spent buried in the Library’s impossible geometry, surrounded by books that promised answers and delivered complications instead.

  Today I was supposed to begin at the Academy.

  The librarians—all three of them—had started hovering yesterday when they found me in the Planar Mechanics section for the fifth consecutive day. One asked if the Princess required sustenance. I’d left immediately after that, before concern became questioning.

  Transport gates could theoretically return me to Earth. The theory was sound, the execution prohibitively expensive, and the explanation impossible. I couldn’t ask Lucifer or Lilith to fund my escape without explaining why their daughter wanted to flee Hell for the mortal realm. Best case, they’d assume Academy anxiety. Worst case—I shoved that thought away before it finished forming.

  Summoning was the alternative. Demons got summoned to Earth constantly, according to three different texts. But the requirements looked insurmountable even before considering I wasn’t certain I qualified as a real demon. Contract law seemed to require essence signatures I wasn’t sure I possessed. And even if I managed it, I’d need to fulfil obligations or find loopholes before I could start searching for my body.

  Assuming my body still existed.

  My chest tightened. I forced air through lungs that wanted to close.

  No! It had to exist!

  Daniel would have found me collapsed. Called an ambulance. I’d be in hospital now, stable, breathing, waiting for me to return.

  Or perhaps Lily had woken in my body the same moment I woke in hers. Maybe she was navigating London right now, confused but functional. Hopefully not hurting anyone. Hopefully not committed somewhere when she started talking about Hell.

  Maybe if the real Lily inhabited my old body, she’d know how to reverse this.

  I couldn’t think about the alternative. The possibility that Liam Dawnstar had simply died on his apartment floor and this was all that remained—

  No. Stop.

  The hunger interrupted the spiral, as it had been doing with increasing frequency. Seven days since it started. Seven days of managing intrusive thoughts that grew harder to dismiss.

  Yesterday I’d passed Vex in the corridor and my mind had immediately supplied vivid detail about what he’d look like without the immaculate uniform, how his hands would feel—

  I cut the thought before it finished. Again.

  The sensation sat underneath everything now. A low pull that whispered I could take what I needed, that feeding would be easy, that satisfaction waited just within reach. Still manageable. Still dismissible if I didn’t focus on it.

  But I’d caught myself staring at a palace guard this morning. Lost fifteen seconds to fantasy before I’d wrenched my attention away.

  I hadn’t told Lilith. Couldn’t tell Lilith. She’d have solutions that involved things I absolutely would not do, regardless of what this body wanted.

  I stood from my desk, smoothing the dress Anastasia had selected this morning. Deep blue, structured bodice, skirt that moved with me. Academy-appropriate, apparently, though it showed more skin than anything I’d worn as Liam.

  The transport gate awaited. My parents—this body’s parents—would be there already.

  I left my room, pulling the door closed behind me with a soft click that echoed down the corridor more than it should have.

  * * *

  The entrance hall’s ceiling vanished somewhere overhead in shadow. My footsteps clicked against black diamond as I approached the transport gate, its crimson runes pulsing against the floor like a heartbeat.

  Lucifer stood beside the ring with one hand clasped behind his back, looking as though he’d been carved from marble and fitted with golden hair. Lilith waited to his left, wearing a crimson dress that somehow appeared modest despite revealing her shoulders completely. Anastasia hovered several paces away with the other servants, wings folded tight.

  “Lily.” Lilith stepped forward, extending her hand.

  A silver ring sat in her palm. The metal caught the crimson light strangely, throwing reflections that didn’t quite match the angle.

  “What is it?” I reached for it automatically, then caught myself. “I mean—thank you, Mother.”

  No matter how many times I’ve already said it the word still tasted wrong.

  “Your wardrobe.” Lilith’s smile reached her eyes this time. “All the pieces we purchased, plus essentials I thought you might need. It’s a spatial ring—simple enchantment, really. You reach inside with your mana and retrieve what you require.”

  I slipped the ring onto my right index finger. It sized itself immediately, conforming to fit perfectly.

  “Reach with my mana,” I repeated, as though I understood.

  I’d read about mana manipulation in the Library. Theoretically simple—extend awareness into the reservoir all demons possessed, shape intent, direct flow. The texts assumed baseline familiarity I absolutely didn’t have. Every description started with “as you already know” or “using standard techniques learned in childhood.”

  “Yes.” Lilith touched my shoulder briefly. “You’ll manage it easily. The instinct hasn’t left you, even if the memory has.”

  Right. Memory loss. The excuse that kept saving me.

  Lucifer moved closer, his presence creating pressure I felt against my skin despite the distance between us.

  “Remember your role, Lily Nightstar.” His voice carried no threat, but I heard the instruction clearly. “You are a commoner attending Academy on merit. Not royalty. Not my daughter for the duration of your enrolment.”

  “I understand.” The words came out steadier than I felt.

  “Good.” Something almost warm crossed his expression. “Learn. Observe. If you require assistance, Headmistress Valencia and Professor Moira will know how to contact us discreetly.”

  “We won’t embarrass you by hovering,” Lilith added. She reached up, adjusting a strand of my hair that had fallen forward. “Though I expect regular updates on your progress.”

  I nodded. Sixteen days in Hell and I was about to spend extended time among demons who’d expect me to understand their culture, their magic, their fundamental nature. Demons who’d notice if I failed to demonstrate basic competencies every succubus supposedly possessed.

  This would expose everything I didn’t know.

  “I’ll write,” I said.

  Lilith’s hand moved in a gesture I’d seen her use before when casting. Her horns darkened from obsidian to slate, shortening slightly. Her wings compressed, losing the elaborate membrane patterns that marked her as ancient. The aura that made servants avoid direct eye contact diminished until she seemed merely dangerous instead of overwhelming.

  I focused on my own glamour. The mental trigger came easier now than a week ago—picturing the mask settling over my features, horns dulling from white to pale grey, wings shrinking just enough to pass as unremarkable.

  The magic obeyed. My reflection in the polished floor shifted, looking closer to what Setra and the other common succubi had displayed.

  “Perfect.” Lilith stepped toward the gate’s threshold. “Shall we?”

  I glanced back once. Anastasia stood with her hands clasped, tail coiled around her ankle. She raised one hand in a small wave.

  “I’ll be waiting when you return, Princess.”

  The title hung in the air as I turned away.

  Lilith walked through the shimmering barrier first, vanishing as though she’d never existed. I followed before hesitation could root me in place.

  The world compressed. Reality folded. My stomach lurched as space bent around me and then—

  Heat slammed into me first. Volcanic air thick with sulphur. The ground beneath my feet was obsidian, polished smooth by countless footsteps.

  We stood in Ardorkeep’s central plaza.

  * * *

  The plaza spread out like a wound in the earth. Obsidian streets radiated from the transport gate’s platform, each avenue lined with buildings carved from volcanic glass that caught and twisted the red light filtering through smoke overhead. The heat pressed against my skin with physical weight, thick with sulfur and something sweet underneath that made my stomach turn.

  Emberweave had been industrial. Functional. This was something else entirely.

  “Stay close,” Lilith said, already moving toward the nearest street.

  I followed, wings tucked tight against my back. The instinct felt natural now—sixteen days and my body had stopped asking permission before responding to stimuli.

  Screaming echoed from somewhere to our left. High-pitched, ragged. It cut off abruptly, replaced by laughter that sounded wet.

  A cart rolled past pulled by four humans in leather harnesses. Their skin gleamed with sweat, bare except for the straps cutting across their chests and thighs. The demon driving them—horned, scaled, grinning—cracked a whip that left red lines across the nearest human’s shoulders. The human gasped, stumbling forward, and the demon laughed.

  “Faster, meat. We haven’t got all day.”

  None of the other demons on the street looked twice.

  I kept my expression neutral and kept walking.

  The buildings housed establishments I recognized from context even when the signage meant nothing. Brothels with open doorways showing writhing forms inside. Gambling dens where coins clinked and voices rose in triumph or despair. A shop displaying restraints in the window—iron, leather, something that glowed purple.

  A succubus leaned against a doorframe ahead, running her fingers through the hair of a kneeling woman. The woman’s eyes were glazed, mouth slack. The succubus noticed me looking and winked, her tail coiling tighter around the woman’s throat.

  My body responded. Heat pooled low in my stomach, attention sharpening on the scene despite myself.

  I looked away quickly. Lilith hadn’t slowed.

  We passed an alley where moaning echoed against stone. I didn’t look. The sounds painted enough of a picture.

  This entire city existed as one massive district dedicated to pleasure and pain, the two concepts bleeding together until I couldn’t determine where one ended and the other began. Demons fucked openly in doorways. Slaves worked under threat of whips or promise of reward that looked equally brutal. Every surface seemed designed to facilitate hedonism—cushioned alcoves, chains mounted to walls, stairs leading down to establishments I had no desire to identify.

  The Academy district appeared after fifteen minutes of walking through Hell’s vision of paradise.

  A wall rose ahead, carved from dark basalt rather than obsidian. Gates stood open, flanked by guards whose wings and horns marked them as something more dangerous than the demons we’d passed. The atmosphere shifted as we crossed the threshold.

  Still hot. Still reeking of sulphur. But the screaming became more distant, muffled by the wall’s presence.

  Half the succubi on these streets wore variations of the Academy uniform—black skirts, white cropped shirts, red ties. Some had modified theirs with strategic tears or shorter hemlines. Others wore them properly, looking almost professional if you ignored the underboob and exposed midriffs.

  The slaves here wore collars but worked in more organized patterns. Sweeping streets, carrying packages, serving drinks at outdoor establishments. Still property. Still suffering from the heat and the constant arousal hanging in the air. But the casual violence seemed reduced, replaced by something closer to utilitarian cruelty.

  “There.” Lilith gestured toward a building two blocks ahead.

  The sign read “Understudy” in script that hurt to read directly. Somehow this body, making the infernal language comprehensible to my human-born mind.

  We entered. The interior was functional—grey basalt walls, wooden booths with high backs, amber lighting that actually allowed reading rather than creating atmosphere. A low hum filled the space, some kind of acoustic dampening that turned nearby conversations into indistinct murmurs.

  A succubus sat in the corner booth. Dark red skin, horns that curved forward rather than back, wings folded tight against the seat. She looked up as we approached, stood, and smiled.

  “Carmilla. Always a pleasure.” Her voice carried warmth that reached her eyes. “And this must be Lily.”

  “Moira.” Lilith slid into the booth opposite her. I followed, the seat’s leather cool against my exposed skin. “Thank you for meeting us.”

  “Of course.” Moira’s attention fixed on me, evaluating. I felt the weight of her gaze like pressure against my chest. “How are you feeling, dear?”

  “Better,” I said. Safe answer. “Still adjusting.”

  “Understandable.” She signalled to someone behind me. A human arrived moments later carrying three glasses filled with something that glowed faintly purple. “The headmistress and I have arranged your housing. You’ll be placed in a commoner dormitory as discussed.”

  Lilith nodded, sipping her drink.

  “You’ll have one roommate rather than three,” Moira continued. “Official story is simple luck—space availability, scheduling conflicts, that sort of administrative chaos. Your roommate is a commoner, same age. First year like yourself.”

  “Does she know?” I asked.

  “That you’re royalty pretending otherwise?” Moira’s smile sharpened. “Absolutely not. She believes you’re exactly what you appear to be—a newly enrolled student with no particular significance. Keep it that way.”

  “I will.”

  “Good.” Moira reached across the table, touching my hand briefly. Her skin was fever-hot. “The opening ceremony begins in three hours. I suggest using that time to settle into your dormitory and meet your roommate. First impressions matter, especially among our kind.”

  Three hours. Enough time to unpack, establish basic cover, and hopefully avoid saying anything that would immediately expose my ignorance of demon culture.

  “I’ll leave you in Professor Moira’s capable hands.” Lilith stood, smoothing her dress. She leaned down, kissing my forehead. The gesture felt performative and genuine simultaneously. “Write to me. Regularly.”

  “I will, Mother.”

  She left without looking back. The door closed behind her with a soft click that felt far too final.

  Moira finished her drink in one swallow. “Ready?”

  No. “Yes.”

  We left the Understudy and turned deeper into the Academy district. Three hours until I had to perform as a student in front of hundreds of demons who’d expect me to understand everything I didn’t.

  * * *

  The dormitory building rose five stories in grey basalt blocks that matched the Academy walls. Moira led me through the entrance, past clusters of succubi unpacking belongings and greeting each other with embraces that lingered longer than necessary. Their wings brushed against each other, tails intertwining briefly before separating.

  I kept my expression neutral, cataloguing the behaviours.

  We climbed stairs to the fifth floor. The hallway stretched ahead with doors numbered in brass plates. Moira stopped at 413.

  “This is yours.” She produced a key from somewhere within her fitted jacket and pressed it into my palm. The metal was warm. “Remember—any issues at all, come find me. My office is in the main building, third floor, eastern wing.”

  “Thank you.”

  She studied me for three seconds that felt considerably longer. “You’ll do fine, Lily. Trust your instincts more than you think you should.”

  The advice landed with weight I didn’t fully understand. She turned and walked back toward the stairs, her heels clicking against stone.

  I stood alone in the hallway, key gripping into my palm.

  Three deep breaths. The air tasted of sulphur and something floral I couldn’t identify. My tail curled against my thigh—anxiety, I’d learned. The movement happened without conscious input.

  Stolen story; please report.

  I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  The room was larger than expected. Four beds, though only two showed signs of occupation. One had clothes scattered across the mattress in organized chaos—skirts in one pile, tops in another, undergarments that qualified as scraps of lace sorted by colour.

  A succubus sat cross-legged on that bed, holding up two nearly identical black crop tops. Purple eyes, short black hair, tan skin with that subtle luminescence all succubi possessed. Her wings were surprisingly small, folded tight against her back. Her tail swayed in rhythm with whatever internal debate she was conducting about the shirts.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Her head snapped up. The smile that split her face was immediate and genuine.

  “Oh wow, you’re here!” She tossed both tops aside and bounced off the bed in one fluid motion. “I’ve been waiting forever. Well, not forever, but like two hours which feels like forever when you’re stuck organizing clothes you know?” She crossed the distance between us, grabbing my hands. Her skin was fever-hot. “This is so lucky. Just the two of us in this whole room. Can you believe it? Some girls got stuck four to a dorm and we get all this space.”

  Her enthusiasm hit like physical force. I managed a smile that felt approximately correct.

  “I’m Aria. Ariasielle technically but nobody calls me that except my mom when she’s mad.” She squeezed my hands, tail flicking behind her in rapid patterns I couldn’t decode. “What’s your name?”

  “Lily. Lily Nightstar.”

  “Lily! That’s pretty. You’re pretty. We’re going to have so much fun.” She released my hands and spun, gesturing at the room. “I already claimed this bed but if you want it we can totally switch. And there’s like a whole bathroom, did you see? The tub is huge. Big enough for both of us easy.”

  The way she said it carried implications I filed away for later analysis.

  “This bed is fine.” I moved toward the one opposite hers, setting my spatial ring on the mattress.

  “Ooh, spatial storage. Fancy.” Aria flopped back onto her bed, propping herself on her elbows. “So what’s your type? Like, do you prefer them scared or willing? I like willing better myself. More fun when they’re into it, you know? Plus the energy tastes better when they actually want you.” Her tail traced a lazy S-pattern against her sheets. “How do you usually do it? Slow seduction or just hit them with the full charm and get it over with?”

  The questions came rapid-fire. My mind scrambled for responses that wouldn’t immediately expose my complete inexperience.

  “I haven’t actually fed yet,” I said.

  Aria’s eyes went wide. She sat up straight, wings flaring slightly. “No way. You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’ve felt the hunger though, right? Like, it’s started?” Her voice carried genuine curiosity rather than judgment.

  Every instinct screamed at me to tell the truth. The hunger had been building for days now, intrusive thoughts that derailed normal cognitive processes. But admitting that felt like crossing a threshold I wasn’t prepared for.

  “No,” I lied. “Not yet.”

  “Holy Hell.” Aria’s entire face lit up. She scrambled forward, gripping the edge of her bed. “Lily. Lily, this is perfect. When it happens—and it will, trust me, you’ll know exactly when—you have to promise you’ll tell me immediately. I want to be there for your first time.”

  My stomach clenched. “You don’t have to—”

  “No, I want to! My first time was good but it could’ve been better, and I’ve learned so much since then.” Her tail whipped enthusiastically. “I can make yours amazing. We’ll find you someone perfect, get you all worked up first, maybe I’ll even help…” She trailed off, grinning. “Promise me. Promise you’ll tell me when the hunger hits.”

  The weight of her expectation pressed against my chest. Refusing would raise questions. Succubi apparently shared this experience, treated it as bonding.

  “I promise,” I said.

  “Yes!” Aria threw herself backward on her bed, laughing at the ceiling. “This is going to be incredible. Best roommate assignment ever.”

  * * *

  The Assembly Hall hummed with energy that had nothing to do with the crimson chandeliers overhead. Heat pressed against my skin—not temperature, something else. Pheromones, maybe.

  I stood beside Aria in the middle section, surrounded by bodies that moved with unconscious sensuality. Wings rustled. Tails swayed in patterns I still couldn’t fully decode. Conversations layered over each other in a constant murmur punctuated by laughter that carried undertones I recognized from my own voice now—rich, designed to attract attention.

  University orientation had felt nothing like this. Neither had secondary school assemblies where teachers droned about expectations while students texted under their desks. This was both at once and neither. An institution of learning filled with predators pretending at civilization.

  My tail coiled tight against my leg. Aria’s flicked in lazy arcs, completely relaxed.

  “You okay?” She leaned closer, purple eyes scanning my face. “You look like you’re about to bolt.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re really not.” Her hand found my elbow, warm through the fabric of my uniform. “Relax. It’s not like you’ll be the one giving speeches.”

  Right. Of course. I was a student, not the centre of attention. Just one succubus among hundreds of others who supposedly knew how to exist in this body without conscious effort.

  I pulled in a breath that did nothing to calm the pressure in my chest. “Right.”

  The murmur cut off as Valencia stepped onto the stage.

  She moved with the kind of authority that required no announcement. Her heels clicked against obsidian, each step precise. The tight dress emphasized curves that drew every eye in the hall, but her expression carried zero warmth. This wasn’t seduction—this was command.

  “Welcome to the Academy of Infernal Arts.” Her voice filled the space without strain, enhanced by whatever magic governed the acoustics. “This institution will be your home for the next four years. Longer, if you wish to pursue advanced studies. Less, if you fail to meet our expectations.”

  A pause. Her gaze swept across the assembled students like she could identify each individual failure waiting to happen.

  “Within these walls, there is no distinction between bloodlines. Common or pureblood—you are all students of this Academy. Discrimination based on origin will not be tolerated. Your worth here is measured by your skill, your dedication, and your results. Nothing else.”

  Laughter rippled through a cluster of white-haired succubi three rows ahead. Their wings were larger than average, horns more elaborate. Purebloods, clearly. One whispered something that made her companions snicker.

  Valencia’s eyes locked on the group. The temperature dropped.

  “To those who believe I’m joking—I encourage you not to test me. The last student who thought her house name would protect her from consequences spent her second year scrubbing the Feast Hall floors with her own tail. I’m told she graduated with exceptional humility.”

  The laughter died.

  Aria’s breath ghosted against my ear. “Valencia’s right about the rules, but it’s smarter not to step on any pureblood’s tail anyway.”

  “Why?” I kept my voice equally low.

  “Because the Academy protects you here. After graduation?” She shrugged, tail swishing. “They’ve got connections everywhere. Can make your whole existence miserable if you pissed them off during school. Better to stay neutral, you know?”

  The pattern clicked into place with depressing familiarity. Different setting, same power dynamics. Wealth and lineage trumping merit regardless of official policy.

  “Is it always like that?”

  “According to my mother, yeah. School’s meritocratic on paper, but most commoners still defer to purebloods just because of who they know.” Aria shifted closer, wing brushing mine. “Best strategy is find yourself some powerful pureblood to back you. Then the others leave you alone because you’re under protection. Makes the whole four years way easier.”

  “Sounds exhausting.”

  “It’s politics.” Her grin carried zero humor. “Mother says we need to network smart, make the right connections early, and boom—easy Academy life. Just don’t offend anyone too powerful, because Valencia can only protect you while you’re enrolled.”

  The pragmatism was clinical. Calculated. Exactly the kind of survival strategy someone would develop after centuries in Hell’s hierarchy.

  “Your mother seems pragmatic.”

  “She’s a bitch, honestly.” Aria said it casually, like commenting on weather. “But my new existence beats whatever I remember from being mortal, so at least I’m grateful she pulled me out of that dumpster. What about yours?”

  My mind blanked.

  “Your mother,” Aria prompted. “What’s she like?”

  Lilith’s face surfaced—beautiful, ancient, genuinely concerned or performing concern with utmost perfection. The woman who planned shopping trips and called me daughter and probably commanded legions between breakfast and lunch.

  “She’s not that bad,” I said carefully. “At least, not yet.”

  “As for my mortal life,” I paused, searching for the right phrasing. “I don’t remember much. The details are… fuzzy. Something about being an engineer, I think. Technical work.”

  Aria’s eyebrows rose. “Engineer? Fancy. Well, whatever you were before definitely doesn’t beat what you are now. Trust me.”

  “Yeah.” The word came out hollow. “It won’t.”

  It wouldn’t beat this. Trapped in someone else’s body, performing a role I didn’t understand, surrounded by demons who treated human suffering as entertainment. Definitely an upgrade from designing infrastructure in London.

  Valencia’s voice pulled me back. “You will be challenged here. You will struggle. Some of you will fail. But those who succeed will leave these halls as the finest succubi Hell has produced in generations. I expect nothing less than excellence. Dismissed.”

  The assembly erupted into motion and noise as hundred succubi moved toward the exits at once.

  * * *

  The crowd funnelled through the doors. Bodies pressed closer than I’d allow in London—but nobody here cared about personal space. Wings brushed mine. A tail flicked against my ankle.

  Aria stayed close as we pushed toward the corridor leading back to the dormitories. Her energy hadn’t diminished despite sitting still for twenty minutes.

  “So.” She bumped my shoulder with hers. “You want to have some fun tonight? Before all the responsibility kicks in tomorrow?”

  I glanced at her. “What kind of fun?”

  “The good kind. Dancing, drinks, maybe find someone cute to make out with.” Her grin widened. “You know. Relax a little.”

  Every instinct I’d cultivated as Liam said no. Unknown location, unfamiliar social dynamics, high risk of doing something that revealed I had no idea how succubi actually behaved in casual settings.

  But refusing would be weird. Aria clearly expected enthusiasm, not hesitation. And she’d already mentioned wanting to help with my “first feeding”—declining her invitation to go out would raise questions about why I was avoiding normal succubus activities.

  Besides. If I wanted to learn how to act like one of them, observation in their natural habitat made tactical sense.

  “Sure,” I said. “Sounds good.”

  Aria’s tail did a little curl of satisfaction. “Perfect! I promise you’ll love it. Best club in the district.”

  We reached the stairwell. I followed her up toward the fifth floor.

  “Where are we going exactly?”

  “Den of Debauchery.”

  My stomach dropped.

  That name promised absolutely nothing I wanted to experience. But my face stayed neutral—just mild curiosity, nothing more.

  “Sounds… lively.”

  “It’s amazing.” Aria took the steps two at a time, excess energy finding outlets. “Music’s incredible, and the vibe is perfect for stress relief. You’ll see.”

  We reached our floor. The hallway stretched ahead, doors on either side marked with brass numbers.

  “But before that,” Aria continued, veering right instead of toward our room, “we need to make one more stop.”

  “One more place?”

  She glanced back, eyebrows raised like I’d asked something obvious. “Slave markets. We need to grab the best ones before everyone else takes their share tomorrow. The Academy gives us an allowance slip—one slave per room, completely free. But if we wait until after classes start, all the good stock will be gone and we’ll be stuck with whatever’s left.”

  The casual explanation hit like cold water. Right. Because of course the Academy provided slaves. I’d read about it in the library, but seeing it written in books versus hearing my roommate discuss shopping for humans carried different weight.

  “How do we get the allowance slip?” Keep the questions practical. Don’t react to the concept itself.

  “From our group tutor. We need to find out who that is first.” Aria turned down another corridor, apparently knowing the administrative layout better than I did. “Should be posted somewhere near the faculty wing. Come on.”

  She grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward.

  I followed, my tail curling tight against my leg where she couldn’t see it.

  * * *

  The faculty wing bulletin board listed group assignments in neat rows. I scanned the list until I found Room 413.

  Group 11-A: Rooms 410-415

  Personal Tutor: Professor Moira

  Of course she was.

  “Perfect!” Aria bounced once. “I’ve heard good things about her. Tough but fair.”

  I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. Moira already knew everything—which made her either the safest person here or the most dangerous, depending on whether she planned to maintain my cover or test it.

  “Come on.” Aria grabbed my wrist again. “Her office is this way.”

  We climbed to the third floor. The corridor smelled like old paper and something sharper—sulphur, maybe, or just Hell’s ambient atmosphere bleeding through the walls. Aria knocked on the door marked Professor Moira.

  “Enter.”

  Moira sat behind a desk covered in organized stacks of paperwork. Her red eyes flicked between us, settling on me for half a second longer than Aria.

  “Miss Nova and Miss Nightstar.” She gestured to the chairs. “I assume you’re here for your housing allowance.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Aria dropped into the nearest chair.

  I took the other one, letting Aria handle the conversation.

  “Room 413,” Aria continued. “We wanted to get our slip before everyone else clears out the markets tomorrow.”

  “Smart.” Moira pulled open a drawer and extracted a printed form. “The Academy provides one slave per room as standard feeding stock. Present this to any registered merchant in the district markets—they’ll handle the transaction directly with our accounts office.”

  She slid the paper across the desk.

  Aria snatched it up. “Thank you, Professor.”

  “Settle in tonight. Classes begin at eight sharp tomorrow morning.” Moira’s gaze shifted to me. “Both of you.”

  A pause. Her expression didn’t change, but something in the weight of her attention felt deliberate.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  Aria stood. I followed her toward the door.

  Moira nodded once as we left—just at me, subtle enough that Aria missed it completely while checking the slip in her hands.

  The moment we hit the corridor, Aria grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the stairs.

  “Markets close at midnight. Come on!”

  * * *

  The markets sprawled across three connected plazas, lit by floating orbs that cast everything in amber. Stalls lined the perimeter—some open-air displays, others hidden behind heavy curtains. I caught glimpses of collared figures standing on platforms, sitting in cages, kneeling with heads bowed.

  Humans. Elves. Things I’d thought were pure fantasy three weeks ago.

  Hell had been fantasy too.

  A dark-skinned woman stood chained to a post, her expression hollow. An orc with filed tusks sat motionless in a cage too small for his frame. Two elven children huddled together on a platform while a buyer examined their teeth.

  I looked away.

  They deserved this. Had to. This was Hell—these were damned souls, condemned for whatever they’d done in life. The logic felt flimsy even as I constructed it, but I needed something to hold onto. Some framework that let me walk past without breaking.

  The alternative was thinking too hard about what happened to people who ended up here. What could happen to me if I slipped.

  I swallowed.

  Aria pulled me toward a larger tent structure on the plaza’s eastern edge. The entrance bore a sign in Infernal script I somehow understood: Premium Stock.

  “This place has the best pleasure slaves,” Aria announced.

  I blinked. “How do you know?”

  She puffed her chest slightly. “I did my research before coming here. You think I’d show up without knowing where to find quality?”

  We pushed through the entrance flap.

  The interior opened into a surprisingly spacious area divided by curtained sections. A fat demon with goat legs approached us, his red skin glistening under the overhead lights. His smile revealed yellowed teeth.

  “Welcome, young ladies.” His voice carried an oily quality. “I’m Malthus. What brings you to my establishment this evening?” His gaze dropped to our uniforms. “Students claiming your allotted slave, I presume?”

  I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

  “That’s right,” Aria said smoothly. “We’re here to pick ours up.”

  Malthus’s expression shifted slightly. “Where are your other two companions? Students typically arrive in groups of four.”

  “We lucked out.” Aria gestured between us. “Got a room just to ourselves.”

  Malthus looked at Aria, then at me. His eyes narrowed. “Just the two of you?”

  “Just us,” Aria confirmed.

  He shrugged, the movement rippling through his bulk. “The Academy doesn’t pay me to question students. Any specific specimens you’re looking for?”

  “Nothing particular,” Aria said. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a handsome elf.”

  Malthus chuckled, the sound wet. “You’re in luck. Fresh delivery of damned arrived yesterday. Several elves among them.” He turned toward the back. “Follow me.”

  He led us past the first curtain into a larger space. Platforms lined the walls. People stood on them—some female, some male. All naked. Their skin lacked the bruises and welts I’d seen on slaves in the main markets. No visible signs of abuse.

  Different purpose, I thought distantly. These were meant to be appealing.

  The logic made sense even as everything in me recoiled from it.

  A blonde elf woman stared at nothing. A human man with dark hair kept his gaze fixed on the floor. Three more elves stood together on the far platform—two women and one man, all sharing similar features. Siblings, maybe.

  Malthus gestured expansively. “Take your time. Examine them as thoroughly as you’d like.”

  Aria stepped forward immediately.

  I stayed where I was.

  * * *

  Aria circled a male elf with bronze skin, her fingers trailing across his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed fixed on the middle distance.

  “Do you have any dark elves?” Aria asked, turning back to Malthus.

  Malthus shook his head, jowls swaying. “Unfortunately not. Most dark elves serve deities who claim them before they reach us. I still have quality high elves and wood elves, though.” He gestured to the platforms. “All properly trained.”

  Aria stopped mid-reach toward another specimen and looked at me. “Lily, you have any preferences? Size? Race? Maybe specific looks?”

  My stomach dropped.

  She wanted me to choose. Actually pick someone. Point at a person and say that one, I want to own that one.

  “I—” My throat closed. “Whatever you choose is fine.”

  Aria’s eyebrows rose. “You sure? Don’t complain later if you’re not into him.”

  Him. Right. She assumed I’d want—

  The thought caught halfway. Should I say something? Tell her I preferred women? Maybe that would make this easier. Maybe if the slave aligned with my actual preferences, I could… what? Stomach it better?

  My mind spun through the logic. If I stated a preference, I’d be making a choice. Actively participating. The slave would still be a slave either way, but I’d have picked them specifically. Like the trolley problem, except instead of choosing who dies, I’d be choosing who becomes our—

  I swallowed hard.

  But they were already slaves. Nothing I said or didn’t say would change that fundamental fact. The person standing on that platform would leave here with someone regardless. My silence didn’t make me innocent.

  They’re sinners, I reminded myself. They deserve this.

  The logic felt thinner each time I used it.

  “Alright, don’t blame me later.” Aria turned back to Malthus. “I want someone handsome. Muscular but not bulky—athletic build. Well-endowed, obviously. At least seven inches. Face matters as much as size.”

  Malthus nodded, already moving toward a side door. “I have several that match your description. Give me a moment.”

  He disappeared through the curtain.

  I stood perfectly still. My tail wrapped around my left thigh without conscious thought. The hunger hummed beneath everything else—not overwhelming yet, but present. Waiting.

  Aria wandered to the nearest platform and examined a human woman with red hair. “You’re really quiet.”

  “Just tired,” I said.

  “You’ll perk up once we get back to the room.” She grinned. “This is exciting, isn’t it?”

  I managed something that might have passed for a smile.

  Malthus returned leading five figures. Three elves, one human, one half-orc with grey skin. All male. All naked. All displaying exactly what Aria had requested.

  My eyes caught on their bodies before I could stop myself. Muscle definition. The way they moved. The—

  Heat flickered in my core.

  No.

  The smallest was seven inches. The half-orc was easily nine. All of them larger than I’d been. Than Liam had been.

  The thought arrived fully formed: I used to have one of those.

  Another thought, immediate and intrusive: Now I could—

  I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper. The pain helped. Barely.

  Aria walked the line, examining each one with the casual assessment of someone shopping for furniture. She stopped in front of a blonde elf with waist-length hair and a face that could’ve been carved from marble.

  “This one,” she said. “Face is perfect. And the size is good—eight inches is plenty.”

  Malthus beamed. “Excellent choice, miss. One of our finest acquisitions.”

  He gestured for the elf to step forward. The elf obeyed immediately, his movements smooth and unhesitating. Conditioned.

  My stomach twisted.

  Malthus produced papers from somewhere inside his vest. “Standard ownership contract. Joint possession, feeding rights included. I’ll just need both signatures.”

  Aria signed without reading it, her handwriting looping and confident. She passed the contract to me.

  I grabbed it, grateful for something else to focus on.

  The text was in Infernal—I understood it perfectly despite never having seen the language before three weeks ago. Standard terms. No hidden clauses. Joint ownership of the damned soul designated as Bellas Lumen. Liability waivers.

  Legal slavery, documented and bureaucratic.

  I found the signature line and signed. The characters that flowed from my hand weren’t anything like my human handwriting. The muscle memory came from somewhere else, forming letters in a script that felt both natural and completely foreign.

  Lily Nightstar.

  Not my name. Not my signature.

  I set the quill down.

  “Excellent.” Malthus rolled the contract and handed it to Aria. “He’s all yours, ladies. Enjoy your new acquisition.”

  Aria grabbed Bellas by the wrist. “Come on.”

  We left the tent and crossed back through the market plaza. Bellas followed three steps behind us, silent and obedient. I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

  The walk back to the dormitory took fifteen minutes. Every step, I felt his presence. Knew he was there. Knew what he was for.

  Aria chatted about classes starting tomorrow, about which professors had reputations for being harsh. I made appropriate noises at appropriate intervals.

  My mind circled the same thought on repeat: Sooner or later, I’m going to feed on him.

  Escape seemed more distant now than it had in the palace. At least there I’d had the library. Resources. Time.

  The Academy had a library too. Teachers who might answer questions if I asked them carefully enough.

  But the hunger was constant now. A background hum that flared whenever I noticed something—someone—appealing. How long before it became impossible to ignore?

  I didn’t know.

  I won’t make it, the thought whispered. Not before it happens.

  I pushed it down and kept walking.