I sighed and turned back to Eversio.
“So, why aren’t you joining the battle march?”
He scratched the back of his head.
“I figured you’d need some company?”
“Seriously?” I asked, raising my eyebrows, “You stayed behind for me?”
“I’m not as bloodthirsty as my dad.” He smirked, “And the High Commander could probably use some security detail.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Even with a life-threatening wound, we both know I could take you on-“
“-kidding! I’m kidding.” He chuckled awkwardly, “I almost forgot about the whole super-soldier-transformation thing.”
“In a matter of months you went from human to proficient swords…woman and combatant. You’re good enough to fight beside the king of hell, which…usually takes a lifetime of training.”
“Okay…I guess that is a little weird. And awfully convenient.”
“What’s your secret?”
An ancient prophecy that foretold I would be the champion of hell?
He watched me for a second before continuing.
“You have been awfully lucky ever since coming to hell.”
“Except for the minor part where I lost ownership of my soul.” I offered, pulling the hair out of my face and tucking it behind a horn.
He nodded as if considering my words.
I adjusted one of my sandals and yawned.
SO…ARE WE GOING TO STAND AROUND OR HAVE SOME FUN?
“What’s there to do? We’re stuck in the camp for the whole day.”
AND THEY’LL ONLY BRING OUT THE BOOZE WHEN THE SOLDIERS GET BACK.
Eversio made a face in thought.
"Well, we can have fun without booze, can't we?"
"Is everyone in hell a chronic alcoholic?" I asked incredulously.
IT'S IN OUR BLOOD. YOU COULD CUT THE PRINCE OPEN AND HE'D BE AT LEAST 50% ALCOHOL.
"More like 66.6%." Eversio corrected, adjusting his collar.
He was the only one who wasn't dressed like a Roman in the camp. Well, him and Lucifer.
"Wait..." I started, "So...bloodwine..."
"Oh God..." I shuddered, trying to hold down the contents of my stomach.
Eversio rolled his eyes.
"It uses a special variety of grapes. Bob's being a troll."
ACTUALLY, I'M A GREATER SPRITE.
My stomach settled and I let out a breath of relief.