He shoved away from the table, dumping Socks off his lap. The kitten darted under the sofa as he stormed across the room, his tail slashing back and forth.

I scrambled to my feet, eyes wide. “Zylas, what’s wrong?”

“I did not see it! Esha hh’ainun raktis dahganul īt meniraīs thāanus īs!” He pivoted on one foot, facing me with his teeth bared and eyes glowing with rage. “Ahlēa gives power to Dīnen. It is a special vīsh. It is … King’s Vow. Other demons of our House swear to us—to obey the command we give them. If they disobey, we know. We feel their betrayal.”

His nostrils flared as he sucked in air. “When Dīnen swear a King’s Vow, Ahlēa will not let us break it. We can’t.”

“And the … the King’s Vow is in the grimoire?” I asked. “In the summoning ritual?”

“The King’s Vow is ‘enpedēra dīn nā.’ King’s Vow bind me. This”—he jabbed a claw at the grimoire—“says, ‘enpedēra dīn izh.’ King’s Vow bind him. They use our own magic to enslave us!”

He shouted the final words, his rage fueled by millennia of injustice, persecution, fear, and the slow destruction of demonic society.

“Oh my god.”

The faint voice came from the hallway. Amalia, her hair messy from sleep, stood in the threshold, her hand braced against the wall as she stared at Zylas.

“That’s why demons can’t disobey their contracts,” she whispered. “Not because of our magic, but because of theirs.”

“And …” I swallowed. “And that must be why only Dīnen are summoned. They’re the only ones who can be summoned, because only Dīnen are bound by the King’s Vow.” As tears stung my eyes at the horrific unfairness of it, I hesitated. “But Zylas, didn’t you say the power of Dīnen leaves you when you’re summoned?”

His hands curled into fists. “I knew that Ivaknen return without power. But when Eterran and I swore the King’s Vow to each other, the vīsh was there. We lose it when we return. Ahlēa must take it back then.”

Jerkily, he turned to face the window, his back to us. He was so furious his tail wasn’t even lashing, his entire body tense and limbs rigid. How much did he despise humankind right now?

“The Twelfth House is exempt from contracts, though,” Amalia said uncertainly. “Is your Dīnen magic different?”

“No,” Zylas growled without turning. “I do not know why I am not bound.”

Amalia disappeared down the hall and returned holding a thin book with a leather cover that I recognized as her grimoire. Joining me, she opened the book to a detailed drawing of a summoning array.

“This part here,” she said. “Is this line of demonic runes what invokes the King’s Vow against the demon when he’s summoned?”

Zylas stalked over, stopping on her other side. “Yes. And this”—he pointed to another set of runes—“is Ahlēvīsh.”

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I considered what Zylas had revealed. “I don’t think Anthea came up with all this on her own. She could’ve studied demon magic for decades and never come close to understanding the complexities of King’s Vows and Ahlēvīsh, let alone figured out how to pervert them for her summoning spell.”

“But clearly she did do that,” Amalia said, gesturing at the ancient grimoire.

Sinking to the floor, I picked up the Vh’alyir Amulet, turned it over, and set it gently on the Athanas grimoire with the Twelfth House sigil facing up. “This amulet is described in the grimoire, and it contains a spell that’s entirely demon magic. Anthea didn’t add that herself. A demon added it.”

“Willingly?” Amalia asked, kneeling beside me.

“I don’t know, but the entire Vh’alyir House is exempt from contract magic. Everything else works, so it seems—doesn’t it seem deliberate? Their exemption?”

A sound rasped from Zylas’s throat—a furious, despairing snarl different from his usual angry growls. He swept away from us, hands clenched into fists again. Stopping at the window, he stared out at the narrow strip of cityscape and gray sky.

“Coming up with unprovable theories about the past isn’t useful,” Amalia said abruptly. “Let’s look at the portal spell again.”

“Right. Sure.” I bobbed my head, eager to change the subject, and reached into the grimoire’s metal case for my notebook. “We can look for …”

My hand dug through the brown paper that normally wrapped the fragile grimoire. I rose onto my knees and shuffled it more urgently, then pulled all the paper out of the case. A few sheets of scribbled translations fluttered onto the coffee table.

“Uh, Robin?” Amalia quirked an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

I stared at the empty metal case, nausea building my stomach. So clearly, I could see it in my mind’s eye: my notebook sitting on the nightstand in my bedroom. The evening of the guild meeting, I’d pulled it out to reread my translation of Myrrine’s journal entries, and when Amalia had come in, I’d hastily dropped it on the nightstand instead of putting it away.

Since then, I’d been using a different notebook while working on the cult grimoire. I’d never put my most important notes back where they belonged.

And now they were in our apartment where anyone could discover them—and all my family’s secrets.

Chapter Fourteen

I crouched beside Zylas, shivering in the cold as we peered over the edge of the rooftop at the shorter building across a narrow alley. Our apartment.

Night had fallen, and in the darkness, bulky shadows prowled up and down the surrounding alleys. I’d assumed the men who’d broken into our unit last night were from Odin’s Eye, but I recognized those burly, leather-clad mythics with their bushy beards and arrogant swaggers.

The Grand Grimoire. Our former guildmates were hunting us.

My gaze darted to our balcony, light leaking through the glass door. That didn’t mean anyone was in there; we might’ve left a light on during our urgent escape. It also didn’t mean the place hadn’t been searched top to bottom and all valuables claimed as “evidence” for whatever charges the MPD had brought against us.

Leaving my notebook exposed all day had been torture, but it’d been too risky to show up in daylight. This was our only chance to reclaim it before it fell into the wrong hands—if it hadn’t already.

“Eight hh’ainun,” Zylas said in a low voice. “They walk around and around but do not go inside. They are waiting for you to return like a human would, na?”

“Their demons are all clumsy brutes who can’t sneak anywhere,” I whispered. “Those guys probably can’t imagine going across rooftops or climbing balconies the way you do.”

His canines appeared in a brief, vicious smile, then he tugged my sleeve. “We will go now.”

“Any sign of Nazhivēr?”

“No.”

Relieved, I scooted behind him and climbed on his back, my legs clamped tight around his waist. Nazhivēr’s absence was a comfort, at least. Demons were so magical that they couldn’t hide their presence from other demons once they got within a certain range. Zylas could sense Nazhivēr coming—if he was paying attention.