Chapter 16
Aryana
Zarathos was the worst kind of demon. The sort who exploited love for his personal gain.
But what had Aryana expected? He was the arch king.
She was sure in his time as ruler he had done much worse, but that wasn’t what surprised her about seeing his memory.
Despite the betrayal she had witnessed, a strange sensation washed over her.
The relationship with his father… the need for approval…
for survival. The feeling creeping through her unsettled her still more.
Sympathy.
Could demons even understand love? Everyone who claimed to care for them only ever ended up using them.
And what had been that bit about his name? What did it mean? What kind of father stole someone’s name?
Two imps, a male and a female, about the size of a child, stared at Aryana in the dark tower room. They were small horned creatures with leathery skin and sharp teeth.
The female one had left the chamber, disappearing in the blink of an eye and returning after a brief time with a bucket and cloth for cleaning.
“Hello, my name is Ernon, and this is Mils,” the male said. “Are you a new special friend of King Zarathos?”
“Special friend?”
Mils’s nose wrinkled. “She’s not. Can’t you tell? Look at the tidiness of his room and… her. He’s not even bedding her.”
She stepped back, surprised at their boldness. “Zarathos and I are not sleeping together.”
Ernon’s shoulders slumped. “Well, that should make you happy, Mils. Less mess for us to clean up.”
“We’re supposed to clean up this mess, not chatting with whoever this is.” She shoved the bucket and a cloth at him. “Now clean.”
“My name is Aryana.”
“And does he have you under a bargain?” Ernon asked.
Her teeth sank into her lip. How should she reply to that?
“I’m going to assume, because you are staying hidden here in his rooms and he’s not bedding you, the answer to that is yes.”
She didn’t know whether to blush or laugh. “Yes, Zarathos and I have a bargain.”
Ernon smiled at her. “We tend to His Majesty’s quarters while he is away and keep his secrets.”
Mils looked her over like she was the worst secret Zarathos had ever kept.
“And you see to his needs?” Aryana asked.
“We are fulfilling an agreement Zarathos made with Kingdom Inferna.”
“Ernon.” Mils rounded on him in anger.
“What? She is under a bargain with him as well, and this chamber is the only place we can speak freely.”
“That doesn’t mean we need to tell her everyone’s business.”
“Ah, come on, Mils, you know you want to.” Ernon glanced back at Aryana. “Mimps are notorious gossips. It kills us to have to keep his majesty’s secrets, but it is the terms of the bargain.”
“And if you break them, you’ll die,” Aryana said.
Ernon frowned. “Not just me or Mils. All of us.”
“All of whom?”
Mils sighed, dipping the cloth in the bucket of water and wringing it out, before attacking the puddle of blood.
“All miniature imps. The leader of Inferna was exterminating us, as if we were nothing but rats to be slaughtered. We went to His Majesty, the demon arch king, and struck a bargain. He would get Baalzebub, our leader, to stop the slaughter, and in return, we’d serve the arch king.
He made the deal with our ruler that if the killing of our kind ceased, then he’d provide protection against Kingdom Spiritu Malignos who have been encroaching in our kingdom for over a century. ”
“They’re searching for our spirits. They want to set them free on the land,” Ernon said. “Expand their numbers and take over the other kingdoms.”
“And Zarathos only gets two servants out of it?”
“What do you mean only?” Mils said, offended. “Without us, his life would fall apart.”
“I suppose keeping Kingdom Spiritu in check is reason enough to make the bargain,” Aryana mused to herself.
Mils harrumphed.
Aryana left the tower, allowing the little imps to get their work done, though she still heard them arguing as she descended the steps.
Zarathos said a bargain may prove helpful or detrimental.
But why make such a lopsided agreement? Keeping Kingdom Spiritu Malignos in check made sense.
If they got a hold of the spirits in the underworld, they’d gain so much power they might threaten the arch king’s position on the throne.
But why would he protect creatures such as Ernon and Mils?
Why would he demand only two small servants out of it?
She sat on Zarathos’s bed and looked around the room. In this world of demons and ruthlessness, there were no fairy godmothers like in the stories the humans told. Stories whispered to Aryana as a child. Tales from a mother who had been turned, not born a vampire as Aryana was.
The old human woman, Enela, who served her mother as her giver, came to mind.
She’d known the stories too, and she spoke of them as if they were real, expanding on them, telling Aryana about the magic fairy with the beans, secretly in search of her lost love, and helping other young mortal women while on her quest. She wondered what circumstances had compelled Enela to allow her mother to take her blood as a giver for the past few years.
How desperate must one be to risk willingly giving one’s life force to someone who has the power to take it all at any time?
The fairy godmother was supposed to make dreams come true, and save you with her magic beans in your worst moments while asking nothing in return.
Aryana almost laughed at that thought. Enela certainly could have used a person like that.
And as for Aryana, she didn’t even have a mother who did that.
Instead of protecting her from her uncle, her mother had exposed Aryana to his cold, manipulating ways and let her fare the best she could.
No, in this world, there was only Zarathos. And heaven knew, he was no fairy godmother.
She lay on the demon arch king’s bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself to relax. For the next few hours she dozed fitfully, part of her always on alert in this strange new environment.
The doors to the bedchamber swung open, and Zarathos stalked in, visibly unsettled. She noticed that someone had pulled the heavy satin curtains on the window to block out the encroaching light of day. That must have been done by Ernon or Mils.
“What now?” she asked, tensing at his dark expression.
He shut the door. “The opening ceremony will be tomorrow night. We cannot go for the scepter before then. We need to be present for it. But in the meantime, we should ensure we are prepared to get the scepter.”
“You want me to describe the obstacles to getting it?”
“Something a bit less abstract than that.”
He crossed the room to his desk and opened a drawer, retrieving what appeared to be a clear sphere and a miniature square stand. Aryana eyed the orb.
“And what is that?”
He smiled as he set the orb on its stand. “It’s a crystal ball. Since we’re past the whole ‘spinning straw into gold’ routine, this is how I’ll look into your mind. Or rather, it lets us link our minds just for a while. I want a tour of your castle.”
“The castle is warded.”
“Yes. I cannot shadow jump in and out. Like this castle, there are spells guarding against it. And, well, you are betraying your uncle. If things go sideways, I want to be prepared.”
Her stomach twisted. “In case I die, you want to know how to get out.”
A slow, evil smile graced his lips. He shoved the crystal ball closer. “Show me.”
He might betray her, take the scepter, and leave her to die. But this was her bargain. She’d sworn to help him retrieve the scepter to the best of her ability, and this counted as helping. If she refused, she’d be breaking the bargain and die anyway.
With a low growl, she strode to the table and pressed her palm against the icy surface of the crystal ball.
The world dissolved and reformed around them. She and Zarathos stood before a massive gray-stone castle, its jagged spires and sweeping flying buttresses lending it a grim, ancient grandeur. Only a handful of narrow, elongated windows pierced the fortress’s cold facade.
“Vampires. So ostentatious,” Zarathos muttered.
She snorted. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Most decidedly not,” he said thoughtfully. “You are a finely honed blade, precise and unrelenting, striking straight at the heart of your enemies.”
Aryana wasn’t sure how to interpret that. She glanced over at him. His dark expression studying the castle. “What kind of demon are you?”
He cast her a startled glance. “I’m abaddon, like my father.”
“I see those features, but there is something else, something that is… different and your blood tastes—”
“Watch your tongue.” His snarl was soft and his eyes sparked dangerously. “If you know what is good for you, Vampress, you will not say things so wholly false. I am abaddon and nothing else.”
She understood this playbook. Her uncle had used it on her so many times. “Threats won’t stop me from asking. It’s only going to make me think you have a secret to hide.”
“What do you understand about demons, little vampire princess?” Zarathos’s voice was gruff and condescending.
“You’ve spent your entire life in a castle among your own kind.
What makes you presume you can claim expertise in an area you’re so painfully na?ve about?
Even the most ignorant demon would look on with contempt at your presumption. ”
She flinched, but she took a slow breath. “Making me feel dumb and embarrassed also isn’t going to work. From what your father—”
“Drop it, Aryana.” His eyes flashed with fury, and a spark of worry filled her. What was she doing? He may need her now, but after retrieving the scepter, she was still bound to him. Pushing him might only make him decide she was too much of a liability later and conclude that she needed to go.
She nodded and turned toward the doors. At her thought, they burst open, revealing a stone hallway, carpeted in velvet.