Nyfain shook, pain blasting through him from the magical hold the demon king had on him. He opened his hand and let the bastard fall to the floor.
Dolion picked himself up and snapped down his duster, angry and probably embarrassed. “For a dragon who usually claims to love his servants, you’re not too worried about seeing a few go tonight, are you?”
“You kill his, I’ll kill yours,” I said without thinking.
His red-tinged eyes flicked my way.
“You really are hard to look at,” I said, squinting at him. “Can’t you change form? It would really help everyone else out if you would. I’m not kidding.”
“And what a mouth she has on her,” Dolion said.
I held up a finger. “Don’t make a face-fucking joke. I can already see the bruises forming from the last little slip of the tongue.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Hmm. Maybe you won’t be so bold when you don’t have your bodyguard to protect you.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“I’ve heard Nyfain has kept you to himself these last months. Locked in a tower? How cliché.”
“Certainly not as cliché as that stupid duster you’re wearing. It does not help the situation with those pleats in the least.”
“Be careful, little girl…” His eyes flicked to Nyfain, then back to me. “I am not one to be trifled with. You will walk the castle tonight, without your dragon by your side. You will wear something slinky and revealing.”
Nyfain tensed up, and I could tell he was holding his breath, trying not to explode.
Dolion continued, “And when the time inevitably comes for you to succumb to the erotic magic circling you, you will moan with pleasure like a whore.”
I laughed. “You had me, and then you lost me. Moan with pleasure like a whore? Do you honestly think sex workers feel any sort of pleasure from deadbeat Johns rutting at them like some pig? No, they are bored as fuck and just waiting for him to finish. Probably like all the people you bang. Get your insults straight, you slack-jawed cumgoblin. But sure, I’ll show up tonight without Nyfain. I’ll choose my own outfit, but I’ll show up. How about a little wager? I hear you’re into that sort of thing.”
Nothing in his expression changed, but his eyes lit up. He did love a wager.
“If any of your minions touch me without consent,” I said, “I get to kill them. No questions asked, no risk of punishment.”
“What if you can’t kill them?”
“Right, fine. If any of your minions touch me without consent, I get to try to kill them. No questions asked, no risk of punishment.”
“You can try to kill them. For tonight only.”
“As part of our wager, yes, for tonight only. Which is not to say I won’t continue to target them as an ongoing joy of my life.”
He studied me again. “And what do I get?”
“What do you want?”
Nyfain stiffened.
“Compliance from the dragon,” Dolion replied.
“Yeah, right. Like I have that sort of power. Not to mention it’s much too broad. Try again.”
I’d been burned a time or two in my life, and when a girl with nothing gets burned, the lesson sinks in deep.
Dolion’s lips curled at the corners. Sharp teeth peeked out. “The dragon doesn’t physically touch me during my stay.”
Wow, he was wary of Nyfain, that was for sure. Imagine if Nyfain had been allowed to assume a throne on his own terms? He would’ve easily dominated the demon king—and his own father. His father had to have known it, which was why he’d gone to extreme measures to ensure he had an heir and not a rival. Now here Nyfain sat on a throne of ruin. What a shitty thing his father had done to him.
“Are you thick?” I spat. “Do you only do deals with mad kings? I don’t have any sort of power over the dragon. None. Zero.”
“But I think you do. He hasn’t spoken once since you walked up. He is deferring to you, which means he greatly respects you and honors your place at his side. Dragons are incredibly loyal.”
“You’re going to stand in a ruined kingdom and claim the guy who got us into this mess was loyal? You’re a fucking idiot, and you’re wasting my time.”
I moved to walk around him and toward the door.
The mad king might’ve thought he was good at bartering, but he was the same sort of shrewd and cunning as the demon king. They spoke the same language. That sort of competition was not about playing the game—it was about playing the man.
Enter me. I was a shit barterer. Absolute crap. I didn’t like to cheat people. It wasn’t a game to me. I wanted everyone to walk away feeling like they got a fair trade. It was why I’d gotten the short end of the stick a few too many times. I was also common. I had no wealth, no power, no social standing, and no knowledge of how people who did have those things got by. People like me were staff to people like the demon king. Or prisoners. He and I might as well speak different languages. He didn’t know what rules people like me lived by, so he had no basis for sizing me up.