Quaith pulled half the blankets off of her bed and made a sort of nest for Daiaan, right there on the floor, and he fell asleep immediately.

The next morning, he did not wake up on his own. Quaith shook him until he opened his eyes a bit and groaned a little, then covered his face. “I’m sick,” he said. “Leave me alone.”

But she could not leave him alone – not because she wanted to stay with him, although she did, but rather because, if she left, Derslevere or anyone else could come into her room and see him lying there on the floor and know…

When a servant came to tell her breakfast was ready, she made sure her door was locked and called to him that she was feeling ill.

“Shall I have them bring you breakfast in bed, your majesty?”

“No, no,” she said, desperate. “I don’t think I could hold it in. Besides, I am not hungry.”

She hoped her stomach would not growl, to betray her.

True to their word, the servants did not bother her any more that day, besides knocking on her door lightly before every meal to see if she was feeling better enough. Daiaan still slept, so each time they asked, Quaith said she was still feeling ill, but thanked them earnestly. “Shall we send for a doctor?” one servant asked.

“No, don't do that,” Quaith said, wondering how concerned they were getting and how many people had already been told about the queen’s “illness”. “I think rest is the best thing for me now. Rest, and peace.” She placed a slight emphasis on the last word.

They got the hint and did not bother her for dinner – but another person did.

He knocked on her door after dinner that night, startling Quaith and making her accidentally toss her book onto the floor. She got to her feet and pressed her hands against the door, feeling the bolt to make sure it was still tight. That lock was magic – no one could break it, and no one could lock her out of that room. (They could, however, lock others out of the room – but the lock would always fall apart for her. It had cost her more than the ornately carved door had, and she treasured it more, although she’d never appreciated it wholly before.)

The knocking was so severe and violent that the door shook from the force of it. Quaith knew immediately who it had to be and took her hands off of the door like it burned. Behind her, Daiaan raised his head and opened his eyes, his face questioning. He mouthed the word “Who?” but Quaith shook her head and motioned for him to keep silent.

“Who is there?” she called, forcing her voice to sound weak and a bit hoarse.

“Quaith, let me in,” Derslevere’s voice called out.

“I’m ill,” she said. “And not decent looking.”

“None of this nonsense. You’re not ill.”

How did he know? Or was this another mind game he was playing? “I would prefer not to be bothered by – by you,” she said, thinking that the insult she was going to put in that sentence might not be the best strategy. “Please, leave me away. I wish to go back to sleep.”

“Shall I have them send something for you to eat?”

“No, thank you, Derslevere.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow morning, as early as I can.”

That’s probably not a good idea, thought Quaith, but she said, “Do not knock quite so loudly, then… I would like to get my sleep.”

“I’ll get a doctor if you’re not better by tomorrow.” He said it like it was a threat. Quaith swallowed.

“I have my own doctor, and I would much prefer to see him. But in this case, I believe rest is the best way to dispose of this illness… I just need to sleep it off.”

“Have you experienced something like this before?” His tone was dark, menacing almost. “Does this happen frequently? I don’t want a wife who gets sick all the time. If your health is an issue, maybe the wedding should be postponed – or called off completely.”

That, Quaith knew, was a threat. As she heard his footsteps fading away as he stalked off down the hallway, she let her breath out in hisses from between her teeth. “He’s gone,” she said, “thank God.”

“Your fiancé?” Daiaan said, propping himself up by his elbows. “I feel bad for you.” He groaned, a hand on his belly. “And I’m sorry for causing so much trouble. You could have left me, you know.”

“And run the risk of him discovering you like this? –A foreign man in my bedroom? Adryonia would have been flattened, just for that,” she said, sitting heavily on the bed. “No. Either way, I said I’d protect you. But, as you can see, this cannot be kept up for long.”

“I can lock the door. We’ll get a code. I’ll open it for you when you, I don’t know, say a magic word, or knock in a certain way. I’ll stay awake.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “The lock will let me in, no matter if it’s locked or not. You can stay here, just keep it locked at all times. I wanted to talk to you first, so that you didn’t wake up alone.”

“Thank you,” he said, trying to sit up and sliding back down.

“No,” Quaith said, “don’t do that. Just stay here. You’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Don’t move. It’s all right. Are you hungry? I can get you something for you to eat.”

“Yes, please,” he said. “And I figure you’re hungry, as well. Remember that bread we had together?”

“After the prince’s disgusting feast? I remember that!”

“Bring something like that,” he said. “Come, retreat. Let’s talk. I want to tell you about my time in the mountains.”

She ran a brush through her hair, picking out the snares that had developed. “Sure. I’ll come back if I can. I don’t have stories to share, like you do, but I’m longing to hear yours.”

“It’s not as exciting as all of that sounds.” He looked up at her as she slipped a shawl over her shoulders. “Are you cold?”

“No, but I have to pretend to be, don’t you remember?” she said, smiling down at him. “I’m the invalid, and you don’t exist.”

“For now, anyways.” He paused. “I don’t suppose I could ever come and appear publicly at the castle again, with you?”

“Not while my – while Derslevere is there,” she said. “He’ll see you as my friend and he won’t like that. I don’t know what he’ll do. He’s already trying to get me to get rid of all of my male attendants and replace them with ladies in waiting.” She snorted. “Women are so shallow, and I’m not a baby – I don’t need someone waiting on me all the time, doing my hair, helping me dress. How pathetic do they think I am, for God’s sake?” She stood with her hand on the bolt. “I’ll be back soon, if I can. Otherwise, I’ll definitely bring food for you later. Derslevere might want to eat dinner with me, I don’t know.”

She opened the door and snuck out into the dark hallway, then froze. Derslevere was there, on the ground outside her room – down the hallway a little bit, thankfully out of earshot – and she had nearly tripped over his outstretched legs. She didn’t want to touch him, but for her to sneak by might strike him as odd, so she knelt down beside him and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. “King. Wake up.”

“You’re better?” he said, looking up into her face, blinking in surprise. “I must have dozed off.”

“I suppose so,” she said, backing up so that he could rise, using the walls for support. “I was just going down to get something to drink.”

“Oh. Of course.” He nodded. “Proceed. I must be tired. I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Queen Quaith.”

“Goodnight, King Derslevere.”

She held her breath until she heard his footsteps fading off down the hall, then ran – lightly, since she was barefoot – down the hall and to the kitchens. The meal had been prepared, and eaten, but there was still bread and some ham and apples and she threw these, along with a glass jug of milk and a few knives and forks, into a basket. Then she ran upstairs again with them under her arm, charging into her room.

Daiaan was waiting for her, sitting on the bed and keeping himself stable by using one of the bedposts for support. “Back so soon,” he murmured. “Did I hear you talking outside before, or was I imagining that?”

“Derslevere was there.”

“He didn’t – hear…?”

“No, he was asleep.” She sat down beside him and put them basket on her lap. “Dig in.”

As they were eating, Quaith realized: I am sneaking around, eating leftovers, dodging Derslevere, and just generally acting like a criminal, all inside of my own home, my own castle. Somehow that struck her as disgusting, but she kept silent as they ate.

When they had both finished, she set the empty basket on the table and finished up the last of the milk, then set that down too. “You were going to tell me about your time in the mountains, weren’t you?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.” He crossed his legs. “So I was trying to find this other clan, the Snake Eaters. Everyone says that they live up in those mountains, hiding, not moving from place to place at all – that’s what sets them apart from the other clans of Nephilim, people say. All the others flee from the slightest sign of danger. Not the Snake Eaters.” He took a deep breath. “I talked to people who live in the area, looked at maps, read books, and I thought that I had a good idea of where they’d be. But when I made my way to that place – not an easy task, you should know, since one needs some pretty powerful wings to do it – there were no Snake Eaters. Only empty caves and the remains of the tribe. There were some things scattered around. It didn’t look like they had been gone for very long, so I looked around a little bit. In one of the caves, I thought I saw movement, so I went deeper in. I had no light except what came from the sky behind me, and it was a gray, cloudy day, so that was not much – but then I heard a voice. I thought it was a Nephilim. I heard singing, a man’s voice, really a boy’s voice, singing like he did not know he was being listened in on – you know, the sort of singing that people do when they’re just enjoying the sound of their own voices, nonsensical. So I called out, ‘Who’s there?’ and then the singing stopped, as I thought it would. Nobody answered; there was just silence. I kept going. I mean, I was trying to find the singer and I could still see the exit, so I thought I was safe.” He paused, looking down at his folded hands. “But I was trapped. I found that I could not move. I had fallen onto my knees – it wasn’t that I was in pain or stuck, it was that my body was not my own. And then, I didn’t hear a voice, but – this is hard for me to explain – I felt something in my head. It was that voice I’d heard, I knew. He was thinking, and I could hear his thoughts, but he was filtering through my memories, and I tried to stop him – I didn’t know what to do.

“And then, he realized that I was fighting him. I think he got afraid. It’s so hard for me to explain…. and I know I sound crazy. But he’s still inside me. He’s sleeping now.” Daiaan felt his belly. “He’s not in my head any longer. But he comes up there when I’m sleeping and eats my dreams. We made a compromise. He’ll stay in my belly half the time… if I thought I could get him out, I would cut my stomach open now, but I, I guess I just have to wait and find a demon-killer.”

“I don’t know what’s in you, but it’s not a demon,” Quaith said. “I think it might be a ghost.”

“A ghost?”

“They possess. Demons don’t possess like that – they’re people, with bodies. Ghosts are souls and mouths without bodies. So you want a ghost-killer and not a demon-killer. But I thought ghosts like that were only in stories… I didn’t think they were real.” Her fingers shaking, Quaith reached a hand down and placed it on top of Daiaan’s stomach, wondering if she could feel the thing growing inside as if he was pregnant with it.

“I don’t know if I can stay here,” he said, sliding back down to the floor, after a moment had passed.

“Why not? We’re working something out… We can just keep it a secret…”

“No. Him. He… he doesn’t like me being here. He doesn’t like you.” Daiaan shivered. “I have to sleep now.”

“Alright. But lock the door first. I’m just going to run the basket back down to the kitchen.”

Once she got back up to the room and locked the bolt shut behind her, she saw that Daiaan had fallen asleep, tangled up in the blankets. She watched him for a while, his breathing blissfully even; he was lying on his stomach, as he always slept (because his wings wouldn’t let him sleep any other way), and Quaith wondered if the demon was squished.

She must have fallen asleep watching him, because she was woken up with a start. She wasn’t sure, however, what woke her up, and she sat up straight in bed, looking around the room.

And then she realized that the bolt was unlocked and Daiaan was not in the room. The window was shut still, as well; he must have gone into the castle itself.

Slipping on a robe, Quaith slid out the door and out into the hallways, peering in any open doors. Where would he be? –The kitchen? Would be he hungry? No, probably not; or he would have at least thought to wake her up and tell her, or wait till morning. Had he just gone out and left? She asked the guards by the main door if they had seen anyone enter or leave, and they told her with honest faces that they had not.

She went into the great hall and looked around, walked the edge of it, and there she found him – off in a corner, looking out the window, his fingers laced together and his wings folded tightly against his back.

“Daiaan,” she whispered, padding over to him, “Daiaan, what are you doing?”

He looked at her a moment, not speaking, and then blinked. His face was completely blank and his eyes wide, but slowly, little by little, he began to look slightly more pained, and he shook his head slowly.

“Why – where am I…?”

“Come,” she said, her arm encircling his waist. They walked up the stairs as quickly and slowly as Quaith could manage, but they made it up successfully and with shaking hands she locked the door behind them.

“What the hell were you doing?” she asked, sitting on the floor beside him. “You haven’t even left the room for the past two days, and I find you there, downstairs, in the middle of the night? What, are you trying to get killed?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t know what I was doing. The demon was moving me.”

“Demon…?” She shook her head. “I told you. There is no demon.”

“He told me he was a demon,” Daiaan said. “He never had a body, so he’s not a ghost. Just believe me. He was moving me.”

“And what was he doing?” she asked, her voice rising a bit too loudly for comfort. Then, quieter: “Did he tell you that?”

“He told me he would tell me now, when I sleep.”

“Daiaan…” She really did not know what to say. “Just try not to do it again, alright? I want you to be able to stay here.”

“I’ll try,” he said. “He doesn’t listen to me very well.”

“Maybe I’ll tie you to the bed,” she said, half-joking; he laughed lightly, the first smile she’d seen on his face in a long time.

“At least then,” he said, “I wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor.”