Chapter 28
Aryana
Aryana didn’t enjoy being kept in the arch king’s bedchamber like a prisoner. The space was relatively large, bigger than her chambers in her uncle’s castle, but still. Other than when she'd been in King Salen's dungeons, no one had ever forced her to stay in one room day and night without leaving.
She’d decided on the next least scandalous dress in Zarathos’s arsenal of gowns.
This one only dipped halfway between her breasts, clinging to her shoulders for all it was worth.
It was a dark blue, with a heavier fabric and a light jeweled adornment across the bodice.
Though she had to admit, she did kind of appreciate the ease and comfort.
Actually, all of Zarathos’s gowns had been very comfortable, including the silvery piece she’d worn at the opening ceremony.
He’d avoided her ever since their moment after the first trial. She shut her eyes, recalling how her body had sparked to life under his touch, how his hands had slid so easily and naturally between her thighs, like they belonged there.
He’d liked their interaction. It had been evident in the heightened, hungry glow of his gaze, in the scent of his arousal bringing out a smell so delicious that she couldn’t fathom ever having missed that it was so appropriately him.
Her eyes flew open when the section of wall on the far side of the room burst ajar. Ernon and Mils walked in, their little bat-shaped ears twitching. “Told you she was here,” Ernon said.
Mils rolled her eyes. “She’s been here since before the trials.”
Ernon hurried up to Aryana. “Come! Come with us, miss. We have something you must see. Oh, you’ll be so excited!”
They turned to the open wall and disappeared inside. Aryana crept forward, alert but also curious. She followed them up the long flight of stairs that ascended to Zarathos’s tower.
She watched the imps that were at least half the size of Jesir, though obviously adults for their own species. When Aryana wasn’t fighting for survival from the trials or dealing with the fallout of her uncle’s wrath, she’d thought a lot about the deal that Zarathos had struck with Kingdom Inferna.
“How does Zarathos protect your kingdom?” she asked.
“Kingdom Inferna used to have a cerberus that protected the entrance to our nation, but a demon from kingdom Aeria slaughtered him,” Ernon said solemnly.
“There is a rumor that Kingdom Spiritu and Kingdom Aeria have long been in league with each other to take over our throne and then the other demon nations. Without Zarathos, they’d overrun us. ”
Zarathos’s bargains held these kingdoms in check.
He probably wanted to avoid the demon nations from tearing themselves apart under his watch.
But Zarathos could have asked for anything in return from Kingdom Inferna.
Instead, he chose to protect the weak mimps.
Was he truly that kind? Or was there another reason behind it?
He had agreed to protect the humans, but that deal had been driven by her motives, not his.
“Every couple of months, His Majesty must weave a new spell by hand from the magic threads he creates. However, our service isn’t the only thing he receives in return, there is something else he gets out of it,” Ernon offered.
His eyes were bright with excitement, and she knew he wanted to tell her.
“Can you ever shut your hole?” Mils said.
Ernon threw up his hands. “She wishes to understand, and what harm is there in informing her when it could aid in the trials?”
“The question you need to be asking is why hasn’t the arch king told her already? He clearly doesn’t trust her.”
Aryana blinked. “I thought Zarathos only makes one-to-one bargains.”
“He makes one-to-one bargains when he is offering something, but he can require extra things from those he makes bargains with, depending on the level of support he is giving.”
“What else did he demand from Kingdom Inferna?” Aryana asked.
“The loyalty of Kingdom Inferna in the trials.”
She tripped on the stairs and barely caught herself. So Zarathos had gotten something worthwhile out of the deal.
She understood why the leader of Kingdom Inferna would want to eliminate the small creatures.
They were a liability to any secrets the nation wanted to keep.
Aryana was surprised that Zarathos took a risk on them to safeguard his private matters.
Then again, potential genocide was a powerful motivator to curb any natural instincts.
The miniature imps stopped in front of the heavy wooden door. “We’re here,” Ernon said.
They led her into the large, rounded room.
The windows were now covered in a sheer white cloth to let in light but not direct sunlight.
Around the sides of the chamber, the once bare shelves were full of thread dyed all sorts of colors.
She took in the spinning wheel in the center of the circular space.
And behind the wheel was a tapestry loom.
Aryana drifted over to it. It was at least as tall as her, similar to the one she had in her chambers back home. She traced her fingers over the fine wood.
“Do you like it?” Ernon asked, a grin on his face. “His Majesty told me to assemble it.”
She stared in disbelief, her stomach doing somersaults. “He had this set up for me?”
“Mimps may be gossips, but we are also craft workers,” Ernon answered. “We’ve been assembling the loom over the last four nights. Other mimp families have been dyeing the thread, as you see.”
“Nearly broke our necks trying to place the covers on the windows,” Mils muttered.
Four nights. That was just after their visit to Uncle’s castle. “But why?”
Ernon scratched his head. “We wondered that at first, too. But he must not have wanted you to be bored, stuck here in his rooms. The trials can last up to a month.”
“I don’t understand.” Why do any of this if he was only planning on killing her in the end? It made little sense.
“His behavior has been quite different as of late,” Mils said.
Now Ernon cast Mils a dirty glance, but she only shrugged. “What? It’s true.”
“We should get going.” Ernon grabbed the other demon and backed away. The door shut behind them as the exited the room.
The shelves of thread brimmed with vibrant hues of every shade imaginable, a tapestry maker’s treasure trove.
Each spool, arranged by color, waited to be woven into a greater design.
She ran her hand along the shelf, taking in the rich tones—blacks, browns, and deep blues—the grounding forces that added depth and contrast, giving the lighter threads room to shine and stand out.
In the delicate balance of creation, these dark threads formed the necessary shadows, creating structure and definition, allowing the tapestry to come to life in its full, complex beauty.
“I see Ernon and Mils have shown you the additions to my sanctuary.”
Aryana jumped and spun to face Zarathos, placing a hand on her chest. “You startled me.”
“I can tell.” A small smile lifted his lips, and his gaze dropped to where her heart galloped.
She quickly lowered her hand. “You had a loom built for me.”
He shrugged. “The trials can drag out. I figured if you are going to be stuck here, you should have something to do.”
“Something that I enjoy?”
He made no reply to her question. “Last time, we spun out of necessity. But now, you’re here by invitation and that means you must be aware of the rules.
” He paused, then added, “The expectations in my private sanctuary are simple: no talking while I’m spinning.
Always knock before entering. And don’t ask ridiculous questions. ”
“How do I know what’s a ridiculous question?”
His eyes narrowed at her, and he produced a low growl.
“I suppose that response is enough,” she muttered.
He reached past her and pulled a distaff covered in woolen flax off the shelf, then rotated on his heel and marched over to his spinning wheel. After a moment of getting everything in place, he began to spin, his concentration set on his task.
Aryana paused to watch him as the wheel spun, how meticulous he was in his attention and movements as he pulled and twisted to get the thread just right. How his hands glided with precision and his gaze glowed a soft brilliance in the low lighting.
Inspiration struck, and she turned toward the shelves, pulling down several colors. She moved over to the large loom and started working, adjusting and aligning the threads.
They worked in silence. Aryana became lost in her preparations, in getting all the pieces threaded and aligned and measured the exact length for her creation. She didn’t notice when Zarathos stopped spinning and he again came up behind her, until she felt his darkness wash over her.
“What is this one going to be?”
“You’ll see,” she said. She finally had everything ready and lifted the wooden shuttle with the ebony dyed weft attached to it. “Hold the shuttle for me when it comes through?”
He nodded, and she threaded the weft through several times, pausing after each pass to batten it down before he spoke again.
“What did your tapestry of hands and hearts mean?”
She thought of the artwork that he’d seen in her bedchamber as she placed the weft through once more and he grasped the shuttle, holding it until she was ready.
“To remind myself to be more like humans. To be brave,” she said.
“To not hesitate when it matters and to put others first. To not be selfish.” Like Joy. Like Terrance.
“You don’t have to be a human to do those things.”
She took the shuttle and ran it through again. “I’ve yet to meet a selfless demon.”
“I’ve yet to meet a completely selfless human.” He took up the shuttle in his hands.
She paused, pressing her thumb into the upside down crown painted onto her wrist. “There’s nothing you can say. You won’t convince me I’m wrong.”
He huffed in annoyance. “You act as if humans have a monopoly on love.”
“Love makes humans selfless and compassionate and good.”
“Love also makes them violent, deadly and tribal.”