She shrugged. “Well, it’s a moot point, anyway. It’s a reality check, too. Art is almost impossible to make a living from. And …” she gave a sad little half smile that struck me right in the centre of my chest. “It’s funny, you know? I enjoy making my costumes and selling them at the markets. I love the people I meet. I love seeing the happiness my silly little ferret outfits bring them. But … it’s working with the girls that really brings me joy. And I can’t turn that into a paid gig … because I can’t finish my damned art degree!”

I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and cupped her face in my palm. Her eyes darted to mine, wide and sapphire and so beautiful.

“What you do for those girls … it is admirable. And it’s ridiculous that you are not able to be paid for it!”

Her lips parted, her eyes searching mine. “You seem very passionate about this. You know, considering I’m just a potential energy source for your demon minions.”

I released her face, leaning back. Her cheeks had gone pale, and she shivered. I clenched my jaw, glancing away.

“I’m … intrigued by the workings of the human world. And you are the first human I have come to … know.”

Such lies I was telling. Well, not full lies. I was intrigued. But if she were any other human, would I be this invested?

I was doubtful.

“Well,” she said, her fingers tapping on the tabletop. “I need to be a qualified art therapist to get paid to do it. And I need a completed degree, and then additional certification, to become qualified.”

“Oh.”

A very strange sensation overtook me. Something akin to how I’d felt when I realised that I would be taking over Hell, possibly sooner than I had ever anticipated. When I realised that I had not the first clue about how to manage the kingdom, and I had no one to go to who could help me. When I had realised that it was not … it wasn’t the future I had seen for myself, and yet, it was the future that had been fated for me.

It was the same, stomach-dropping feeling of … powerlessness.

But I had no further time to ponder this feeling because the door to the private dining room opened, and Alessio entered with a flourish.

“Ah, my, che bella coppia! What a beautiful pair you are.” he crooned in a thick accent that I was certain was all show. “Please, enjoy this first of five courses, prepared, as requested, to your specific requirements, Signor.”

“But—” Jemma spoke, then snapped her mouth shut at the sharp look Alessio threw in her direction. As if daring her to complain or argue in any way and find out the consequences.