Chapter 105: Secrets Upon Secrets

"How's Elsa doing?" the demon suddenly asked Kiyan while Blanche mentally flogged herself.

"She's managing, as usual," the djinn replied.

"Does she know about you and Blanchette?"

Blanche froze on the spot.

Kiyan, meanwhile, stiffened as if someone had just cast a spell on him.

"Excuse me?!" the redhead exclaimed.

Asmodeus glanced at Kiyan's wedding ring, then at Blanche's bare hands.

He burst out laughing.

"I think you, too, have quite a few things you need to tell her."

"Like what?" Blanche shot back.

"I think it's time to go home," Kiyan cut in, standing abruptly and buttoning his jacket with a sharp, irritated motion.

Blanche rolled her eyes.

His tone left no room for argument.

Asmodeus immediately raised both hands in surrender.

"One day, I'm going to find out what you're hiding from me, and I'm going to hate you for not telling me yourself," she threatened, pointing a finger at him before heading for the exit.

She stormed down the stairs without even saying goodbye to her father.

Let him deal with it.

If he wasn't going to tell her anything either, she saw no reason to make an effort.

Her blood was boiling.

She had just discovered that Asmodeus was her biological father.

She had just learned that part of her existence rested on carefully buried secrets.

And now this arrogant demon and Kiyan apparently shared information that she was very clearly the only one unaware of.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

Blanche flew down the stairs, jaw clenched.

She felt as though she were surrounded by a gigantic conspiracy centered entirely around her.

Which was particularly insulting.

Normally, when a mystery concerned someone, that person was supposed to be informed.

Apparently nobody had explained that rule to immortals.

Or demons.

Or professors.

Especially not demonic professors.

Behind her, she vaguely heard a voice.

"Lily!"

Natasha.

The lamia was at the far end of the room polishing a table that already sparkled.

Too late.

Blanche was on a mission.

And when she was upset, trying to stop her was about as effective as trying to halt an avalanche with a spoon.

Natasha didn't even have time to intercept her before she was already crossing the club.

The purple LEDs blurred through her vision.

The bar.

The empty dance floor.

The alcoves.

The armored door.

Everything became a smear of color.

She shoved the exit open with slightly more force than necessary.

The cold night air slapped her immediately.

Perfect.

At least it wasn't hiding anything from her.

Blanche inhaled deeply.

Then exhaled.

It didn't help in the slightest.

Her mind was still spinning.

I think you, too, have quite a few things you need to tell her.

The sentence kept echoing in her head.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Then Kiyan's face came back to her.

The way he had gone rigid.

The almost brutal way he had ended the conversation.

The way he buttoned his jacket with that excessive precision he always adopted whenever he was losing control of his emotions.

Oh.

Oh.

Okay.

So there really was something.

Excellent.

Fantastic.

Wonderful.

At this rate, she was going to end up collecting secrets.

All she needed now was a notebook and some stickers.

In the distance, Kiyan's car waited by the curb.

Motionless.

Elegant.

Just like its owner.

And speaking of which...

Its owner had just stepped out of the club.

Without running.

Without hurrying.

With that infuriating calm possessed by people who categorically refuse to panic, even when they absolutely should.

Blanche glared at him.

He responded with a perfectly neutral look.

Which only made her irritation worse.

Fine.

So that was the game he wanted to play.

From a distance, Kiyan unlocked the car.

The soft click echoed through the quiet street.

An invitation.

Or perhaps an attempt at diplomatic negotiations.

Blanche wasn't sure.

She hadn't yet decided whether she intended to speak to him in the next five minutes.

Or the next fifty years.

She crossed the sidewalk with determined strides, opened the passenger door, and climbed inside without waiting for him.

The warmth of the cabin wrapped around her instantly.

The familiar scent of leather, polished wood, and Kiyan's cologne reached her at once.

Which was profoundly annoying.

Because she loved that smell.

And it was much harder to stay furious with someone who smelled that good.

Yet another injustice to add to the list.

Blanche crossed her arms.

Then sank deeper into her seat.

Then crossed her legs.

Then uncrossed them.

Before finally fixing her gaze stubbornly on the windshield.

Like an offended queen.

Or a child having an existential crisis.

The difference was becoming increasingly difficult to determine.

Outside, Kiyan exchanged a few words with the Prince beneath the awning.

The latter nodded before slowly closing the door.

Through the window, she watched Kiyan calmly approach the vehicle.

And despite herself, a thought crossed her mind.

If even Asmodeus thought Kiyan was hiding something from her...

Then it had to be huge.

And when she finally discovered that secret...

Oh, he was going to hear about it.

For a long time.

A very long time.

Of course Asmodeus knew Kiyan wasn't merely a guardian.

He had already seen them together.

Long live private journals.

Kiyan finally joined Blanche in the car.

Arms crossed.

Scowling.

She couldn't even tell him that she already knew everything.

What a scam.

He started the engine without a word.

But during the drive, he cracked first.

"What's with that earring?"

She had expected other questions—especially after Asmodeus had insisted she feed properly and increase her number of lovers—but that one...

How exactly did one tell their husband they had just acquired a new lover?

And that said lover happened to belong to the "drakion" category?

"That's not an earring," she replied.

Kiyan accelerated.

A very clear sign of irritation.

"I know perfectly well it isn't. I can feel the magic coming from it. And I know exactly who it belongs to."

His voice remained soft, but he rubbed at his eyes—a sign of nervousness—and Blanche noticed just how exhausted he looked.

If he hadn't come to the Otherworld...

Then he hadn't slept all night.

"Out of all the drakions in existence... it had to be him." He sighed. "Though if I have to share you, I suppose..."

He froze.

Blanche immediately understood that had slipped out.

He avoided her gaze.

"Four, huh?" he murmured miserably. "I suppose that's better than seven or more. May I know who you had in mind?"

Blanche looked away, cheeks burning.

She owed him at least that much.

"Aaron, Sapphire, Fenrir, and..."

She took a deep breath.

"Sebastian."

The silence that followed was glacial.