Lucifer only knew shallow sleep.
A few hours here and there was all he got most of the time.
The moment he heard his name, it wasn’t that his ears picked it up first, but a feeling that pulled him out of his slumber.
When the people spoke of the Devil, he was bound to appear.
He sat up quickly, instantly alert.
“Are you alright?” were the first words out of his mouth.
Adela was surprised at his question, not accustomed to anyone asking her that—especially not when she had felt the best she had in a while.
“I’m fine,” she responded quietly.
“Thanks to you.” It didn’t go unnoticed that she had been scared last night and he wasn’t far away.
His promise to protect her wasn’t empty.
“I’m happy to hear that,” he responded.
“Do you need something?” She tucked her hair behind her ear.
“No, actually,” she admitted.
“I was coming out here to find you, but it seems I didn’t have to go far.” Lucifer stretched his back before standing up.
“I came here to return your knife,” he explained.
“I didn’t want to wake you, knowing that you needed sleep.” He handed her the knife.
This time, she was more aware and was certain not to cut herself on the well-sharpened blade.
“I really appreciate that,” she confessed.
“It was my mother’s knife.
I’ll put it away.” As she retreated back into her guest room, Lucifer took note of the all-black outfit she had decided on.
It was laid-back and comfortable.
None of it was too showy.
Maybe that was her preference.
Lucifer didn’t impose and waited patiently for her to return.
It didn’t take long.
Adela found a drawer where she could put the knife underneath a few stacks of clothing, deciding she didn’t need it since it was Hell’s daytime outside.
Or maybe she trusted Lucifer to protect her.
She didn’t even know if he was still waiting for her.
Relieved to see him standing there, she couldn’t help wondering, “Don’t you need to go to bed?
The bench can’t offer restful sleep or be comfortable.” “I don’t sleep as often as… others,” he admitted.
“Despite my age, there’s no back pain either.
I’ve been the same for as far back as I can remember.” Her eyebrows rose.
“How old are you?” she wondered, thinking of him having already talked about remembering the 1300’s.
“It isn’t quantifiable,” he admitted.
“Time moves differently for angels, archangels, devils.” Towards the end of his sentence, Adela felt her stomach growl.
She placed a hand over it, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“Forgive me,” she requested quietly.
“It can’t be helped,” he insisted.
“Time for my guest to eat.
Do you have a preference?” “A savory breakfast, please,” she quietly responded.
“I don’t like sweets in the morning.” All she could think about was bacon, sausage, and eggs.
Werewolves and their penchant for protein-heavy meals were not something she had gotten out of just from being a half-breed.
“Shade,” Lucifer said.
The man materialized, but this time he only rose about halfway out of the floor and didn’t come together in a solid shape.
“I already heard, Sire,” Shade admitted.
“Right away.” Lucifer smirked at that.
He should have known.
There wasn’t much of anything that went past his shadowy assistant.
“In the meantime, I can show you around,” Lucifer suggested.
“Knowing your surroundings will put you at an advantage.” The question “an advantage from what?” lingered in Adela’s thoughts, but then she realized the answer was obvious.
She was here to hide.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re right.” He took his tour guide duties very seriously as he began to walk forward, matching her pace.
“As you know, this floor is for my personal guests,” he informed her.
“Generally unused because there are few I want here who don’t already live in Hell.
We might as well start at the bottom and work our way up.” She nodded, silently following along.
“I should also teach you about the elevator so that you are never trapped,” he realized.
“All it takes to summon it is willing it to arrive for you.
If you then think about your destination once inside, you will be taken to the corresponding floor.
Would you like to give it a try?” They were already in the elevator, and Adela seemed to hesitate for a few moments.
“It’s really that easy?” she asked.
“Try,” he persisted.
There wasn’t even a second after thinking about the first floor that the elevator started going down.
At record speeds compared to elevators in Man’s World, they were at the bottom.
“You did it,” Lucifer praised her.
The handsome smirk he wore made her feel faintly nervous.
Praise wasn’t something she was used to.
“It was easier than I thought,” she admitted.
He gestured for her to exit the elevator once the silver door had opened.
“The bottom five floors of the castle are the widest and used mainly for the entertainment of others,” Lucifer continued with his tour.
“There are things like ballrooms, great halls, galleries, and the kitchen to support large-scale events.” “What sort of things does a gallery in Hell contain?” Adela asked, suddenly curious.
Lucifer’s dark eyebrows rose.
He seemed equally as surprised as he was eager for her curiosity.
“How about I show you?” he said.
It wasn’t long after they left the elevator that the King entered a space with massive French doors.
That day, they were open, inviting anyone who passed by to step in.
As Adela went through the threshold, she couldn’t help that her mouth dropped open, and her blue eyes never stopped as she took in the sight to behold.
On every wall, all the way to the top of a ceiling that practically reached Heaven, were paintings of all styles.
The frames were in gold or silver, sometimes both.
Each one depicted a different version of Lucifer.
The styles of art ranged from early medieval, all the way to modern day.
The most striking was the picture in the middle of the four tall, arch-shaped windows that depicted the Lucifer she had seen when he healed her—horns out, and an upside-down cross on his forehead.
While the backdrop of the painting was entirely black, the deep shadows and attention to detail were breathtaking.
Adela couldn’t keep herself from walking forward.
The painting was mesmerizing.
His otherworldly beauty momentarily kept her from noticing the worst part of the painting.
Her heart stopped when she realized that there was a spear going through his chest while he held onto it.
If she wasn’t mistaken, it was a platinum spear that only Angels possessed.
Before she could question why he had art of himself with a seemingly fatal wound, a small demon rushed forward with a feather duster in her hands.
“Forgive us, Your Majesty!” the demon requested.
“We weren’t expecting guests in the gallery today when it’s time to dust.
But, oh, isn’t His Royal Highness a sight to behold in that one?
Our generous and kind ruler can withstand practically anything!”