4. Enoch

4

ENOCH

D reams of her flood my nights, an unbidden warmth spreading through the cold chambers of my mind. I imagine us, walking in the rose garden, her auburn hair catching the sunlight, her laugh breaking the silence like a melody I can't escape.

In the waking world, I'm torn. The expectations of my kind pull me one way, while something deeper tugs me toward her. My mother’s voice echoes in my head, sharp and unyielding. "Humans are beneath us."

But then there’s Lily. I find myself seeking her out in the castle’s dark corners, under the pretense of inspection. She glances up from scrubbing the floor, sweat glistening on her brow but goes back to her work.

She knows better to speak to me first when others are around. As demons and human slaves alike filter by I notice her eyes shift up toward me.

Softly, so much that I almost miss it, I hear a whisper.

"Come to gloat?"

She doesn't look away from her work.

"Maybe," I reply as the corridor around us empties. "Or maybe I’m just bored."

"I can't imagine a mere human being that interesting."

She finally meets my gaze, her green eyes piercing through my defenses, defiant.

"Your kind sees us as nothing more than tools," she says. "But you? What do you see?"

I feel a surge of warmth. She has set me apart from my kind. She sees me as different.

"I don’t know," I admit finally. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“So you’re a scholar? This is research?”

I laugh. “Sure. We can call it that.”

Her expression softens slightly, but there's still a fire in her eyes. "Well, whatever you have going on, it's dangerous."

"Dangerous for you or for me?" I ask.

"I assume both," she says without hesitation.

The air between us thickens with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings. The scent of roses wafts in from the open window, and for a moment, I allow myself to indulge in the fantasy once more. Walking side by side with Lily through the garden, free from the chains of expectation and duty.

"Lily," I say softly.

She looks up at me again, and this time there’s something different in her gaze.

"Yes?"

Electricity fills the air between us. It grips my heart.

I realize that Lily is dismantling everything I've been led to believe about humans before this.

I want to reach for her. Instead, I turn away, but as I do I snap my fingers and I hear her gasp.

I smile to myself as I walk away knowing I've left a single red rose on the floor at her feet.

Walking through the castle, I see it now as Lily must, a monument to cruelty and oppression. The grandeur of the stone walls, the ornate tapestries, the meticulously maintained rose garden—all of it feels bleak, dark, and hollow.

Lily's resilience has a way of gnawing at my convictions. I watch her toil, her slender form bending under the weight of endless chores. Each bruise and cut on her body mirrors the cracks forming in my own beliefs.

Later I find her in the kitchen, struggling with a pot too heavy for her to lift alone.I step forward and lift it before she can refuse.

She glances at me, wary but grateful. "I suppose you’re here to watch me struggle?"

"Actually, no," I say, setting the pot down on the blue flames of the burner. "I’m here to help."

"Has a demon ever said the word 'help' before?" she asks.

I look over and am surprised to see humor in her eyes, a slight smile on her lips.

It makes my heart soar.

"I think once a century ago when they were being boiled in oil."

"Makes sense," Lily says.

She glances over at me.

"Be careful," she says quietly. "You show a sense of humor and you're the one who may end up in the oil."

I nod. "I'm going to assume you're not going to report me."

She shakes her head and focuses on the pot in front of her. "And eliminate the one positive in my life right now? Not a chance."

Again, I feel an intense draw toward her, and an ache in my chest. She finds me positive.

We work in silence for a moment, our movements synchronized as if we’ve done this a thousand times before. The scent of herbs and simmering broth fills the air, the boiling cauldron mimicking the tension between us.

"Lily," I begin hesitantly, "what was your life like before... this?"

She pauses, wiping her hands on her apron. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to understand."

Her eyes soften slightly. "It was simple but good. We had freedom, even if it was just a small village. We had each other."

"And now?" I ask quietly.

"Now," she says, meeting my gaze with fierce determination, "I have nothing but hope for change."

Her words hit me harder than any blow ever could. This life of cruelty and dominance—it's all I've known. For the first time I realize there is something else out there.

That evening I stride into the grand dining hall, the scent of roasted meat and herbs that I have helped prepare mingling in the smoke of the air. The room is dimly lit, dark shadows dancing across the stone walls that have nothing to do with the light.

As I approach the table, I notice a kitchen servant bent low, whispering into my mother's ear.

I hear the words "helping the human" and feel slightly sick.

Bethana’s eyes flash golden, narrowing with barely contained fury. She dismisses the servant with a flick of her wrist and turns to me as I take my seat across from her.

The silence between us is thick, palpable. I can almost taste her anger in the air, metallic and sharp.

I pick up my fork, examining it as if it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "And how was your day, mother?"

She glares at me over her goblet of wine. "Fine."

"Good." I spear a piece of meat. "I'm finding my study of human behavior fascinating. Thank you for getting me that slave."

Her fingers tighten around her goblet until I fear it might shatter.

We eat in silence. I try not to panic and feel like it's only a matter of time before she takes her anger out on Lily.

The next day I hear Lily is cleaning windows high above the courtyard.

I go, feeling something is amiss.

I can’t help but marvel at Lily's tenacity and skill, but the situation is a set up for disaster, a death trap. The wind whips around us, and I find myself willing the scaffolding steady, my eyes fixed on her every move.

"Where are the safety ropes?" I ask a passing demon. He glances up and shrugs.“Humans can’t fly.”

"They weren't around today and Mistress Bethana said to go ahead with the project."

"This is a waste of our slaves," I say with as much contempt in my voice as I can muster to cover my anxiety. "We can't just fling them to their deaths when they cost so much."

I use this excuse to openly use my gaze to shield Lily from the wind and she steadies as she inches across the roof.

Bethana’s icy presence floods the courtyard before her words reach us.

“Enoch!” Her voice slices through the wind. “What is this nonsense?”

Up above us Lily flinches, nearly losing her grip on the window frame.

“Stop this!” Bethana snaps, her eyes locked onto me. “Leave the courtyard.”

“No,” I say firmly. “She will fall.”

Bethana’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You dare defy me for this... human?”

“Yes,” I say, standing my ground.

Bethana’s fury is palpable. She raises her hand, and a gust of wind slams into Lily, knocking her off balance. She scrambles to grab the ledge, her fingers slipping.

“Lily!” My heart pounds as I rush forward. “Hold on!” I cry out, as she dangles precariously.

Bethana’s laugh is cold and merciless. “I love the way their stupid legs kick right before they go down.” She glares at me. “Let her fall, Enoch. She’s nothing.”

I growl, feeling a surge of demonic power coursing through me. Lily steadies.

Bethana sneers but doesn’t back down. “You dare defy me?”

“You bought her for me,” I say again, louder this time. "I'm doing what I want with her."

The barrier strengthens around Lily and her feet reach the scaffolding. She grips the metal bars and sinks into a sitting position, her face pale. She’s not totally safe, but she’s stable for now.

Bethana's face twists in rage. “This isn’t over,” she hisses, the harrowing echo catching the wind and swirling around the courtyard. With a growl of fury she turns and disappears back into the castle.