For some reason, her answer seemed to please him. “A wiser female would use her wiles, instead of coming at me head-on.”

“I don’t possess wiles.”

His gaze roamed over her. Voice dropping to a husky timbre, he said, “Oh, little firebrand, I beg to differ.”

Stifling the impulse to fan herself, she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I would never depend on wiles anyway. I depend on my mind. It’s served me well in the past; it will with you.”

“You propose to outwit me?” He grew animated, as if this was the most exciting thing he’d heard—in centuries. “Be forewarned, I’m a master of trickery. I could match even Loki, the greatest trickster ever to live.”

“I’ve experienced your trickery with those labors.” Reminded of those interminable hours, she said, “But I don’t expect anything more from you; trickery is for the weak-minded and lazy.”

He looked to be on the verge of laughing. “Calliope, I would very much like to spar with you. I wager I’ll be up for the mental challenge.”

“Demon, I win this round just by virtue of one fact.”

“Which is?”

She held his gaze. “You didn’t even know we’ve already begun.”

His expression turned to one of fascination. Then he seemed to harden himself. “You were bright in your past life as well.”

“Who do you believe I was?”

He hesitated, then said, “You were once Kari of Sylvan. A treacherous princess.”

“Why are you so certain?”

“A soothsayer confirmed it.” No doubt Nïx. “And you are nigh identical to Kari in looks.”

“According to your ten-millennia-old recollection? I’m not convinced. Shouldn’t I have memories of my past life?”

“Some do; some don’t. The most visceral memories are the ones that might remain. Often they come in dreams.”

“I suppose I would have had an inkling of one by now. If I were going to.”

“Perhaps nothing was visceral enough for you to retain,” he grated, his ire at the ready.

She was still on edge, her ire just as much so. In a pointed tone, she said, “Perhaps one has to sleep comfortably to dream. I myself sleep on the floor, huddled for warmth.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Tell me about that princess’s crimes.” Lila was determined not to be equated with some long-ago fey.

“You betrayed me. Then you . . . died.”

The mix of emotions he attempted to conceal made her stomach knot. Despite the passage of so many years, he still grappled with yearning, hatred, and grief.

In all her confusion about this reincarnation business, she hadn’t given much thought to his loss. This hint of vulnerability made him seem less of a villain.

At least he believed he had motives to torment Lila. “You said she died in childbirth.” If I’m reincarnated, could I—she—we—have an immortal kid out there? Or a line of my own? “Did the baby survive?”

Abyssian shook his head. Staring out over hell, he murmured, “Lost with you.”

If Lila recovered Kari’s memories, would she relive dying? And the death of her child? She shivered. “Who was the father?”

Without looking at her, the demon gave a curt shake of his head. Lay off.

Still too affected? At some point, she was going to have to ask if Kari was his mate. Not posing the question would become as incriminating as blurting out her knowledge. “How big is this castle?” she asked, changing the subject.

He seemed relieved. “Immense. It has seven towers, each with hundreds of rooms, all filled with treasures.”

“It sounds like a city.”

“In a mystical realm, the structure grew and changed in unforeseen ways. It’s steeped in magic. Some say it has a mind of its own.”

“What do you mean?”

Her interest clearly pleased him. “If Graven likes an individual, it will give him or her gifts, even steering one’s steps.”

She recalled the fanciful stories she’d read about magical palaces and charmed keeps. Under different circumstances, she might’ve liked to explore this place.

“The heart of the castle is all but alive, a moving labyrinth. Yet you think to escape?” He shook his head. “Finding your way outside could take you days, or even years. And if Graven didn’t want you to leave, you never would.”

Given enough time, she could prison-break anything. You’re running out of time, Lila. Her deadline approached. “I wager I could. Set me loose inside, and let’s see.”

“Escaping the castle would only catapult you into more danger. The lava river tides are unpredictable. Time it poorly, and you’d be incinerated. And what do you think my subjects would do with an alluring fey wandering around hell?” Maybe help her escape? “Say you made it past them and the fire river, you’d then have to contend with traps and predators. Hellhounds would rip you to pieces, if the reptiles didn’t get you first. And in the end, you’d still be trapped in this dimension.”

If she could find one sympathetic demon in the realm, she could talk him into teleporting her. But if not . . . “I read that there’s a portal leading to my homeland, the Pando-Sylvan rift.”

Did tension steal over him? “It’s closed forever.”

“Maybe I could open it.”

“That would be an unequaled feat. It’s been sealed for millennia with the strongest magics.”

“You’ve presented problems that need solutions. I like solving things. My motto is FITFO.”

“Pardon?”

“Figure it the fuck out. I’ll do it over and over again out there.”

He was getting exasperated with her. “A tender female like you wouldn’t make it five minutes.”

“You’d be surprised. My talent is adapting.”

“In your past life, you expected the universe to bend to your will. Now you talk about adapting with pride.”

“I do it well.” Didn’t mean she liked to. One day she’d have power over her own destiny.

“Such as when befriending spiders?”

She gazed over her shoulder. Chip and Dale peeked around the upper corners of the terrace doorway like two songbirds from a fairy tale. She faced Abyssian. “Whatever it takes, demon.”