“None.” The goddess stared unblinkingly at her, those odd, golden eyes piercing right through her. “Not a single one. Yet here that big brute is, bringing you to my doorstep for protection. He is the first demon I have ever heard of to go against all those primal instincts they’re filled with in order to do what is right. Do you think if you chose to stay with him, he would enslave you?”

A shameful heat rose in her cheeks. No, Kain would never do anything to her she didn’t want him to do, and she’d done him a great injustice by implying he would.

“No. Never.”

“The Seers who find their way here are damaged. They have suffered at the hands of these beasts, and I suspect you have too. But his seed has taken root in you, and I cannot offer you sanctuary. I never wanted this for you—for any of you—but I wasn’t given a choice.”

She bit her lip in a very human gesture, glanced at Kain’s impatient form, and then looked back at Selma. “What I want to tell you was never meant to be shared with anyone who isn’t a god, but I need you to hear it nonetheless.

“The war between gods and demons has waged for millennia, and before the fertility goddess Mattla intervened, we were losing. They were too many compared to us, and had we not done something, the balance would have shifted in their favor—and trust me when I say that neither we nor the humans would have fared well had that happened.

“But then Mattla put forward her plan. She suggested a way we could make the demons fight amongst each other whilst also lessening their number of offspring. The gods—all of us—agreed to the plan, and the female demons who’d been forced into subservience by the demon king accepted.

“It seemed perfect, and for many years, it was. The female demons birthed only more females, and with their increasing numbers, they had the strength to fight against the Lords. The upheaval among the demon race meant they lost their focus in their war with us. But after decades of dwindling numbers and lost battles, they opened negotiations. And we had to act.”

Bealith reached out to grasp Selma’s hand between her palms. The buzz of her touch was oddly exhilarating—like drinking too much Irish coffee.

“That’s when I lost my children, the Seers. I was always so proud of you—the gentle souls who carry the light within you. You spread joy and hope among the people you lived with, and were revered as wise women and shamans.