“What is it?” I ask Viz, already pulling on a doublet and a pair of boots.
Viz’s eyes dart from me to the room beyond. The way his eyebrows rise tellsme he’s caught a glimpse of the redhead in my bed. I yank the door shut behind me, giving him a look warning him to keep his opinions to himself.
“Erm.” Viz tucks a pencil behind his ear, which helps him center himself. “The patrol caught some snares trying to sneak water from the Morphos,” he says. “It’s gotten ugly.”
I sigh, ducking back into my room to grab my sword and belt. The snares need a little bit of water—just a vial—to seal their deals with humans. If they’re here, then they’re trying to break my order to suspend deals for now.
“One of these days,” I say as I return and follow the pair down the hallway, “you’re going to come to me about a crisis that doesn’t involve that damn lake.”
“We’ll see if we can rustle one up for you, my lord,” Viz says lightly. “Perhaps a natural disaster or minor insurrection.”
“There’s a promotion in it for you,” I say as we reach the courtyard.
Viz pulls a face. “Chamberlain is already the highest position in your court,” he points out, his voice fading as I spread my wings and take off, rising into the dark sky.
“They’re on the southern shore,” Telchor says. “About thirty when I left, though Captain Quill might’ve made headway since then.”
I can see the torchlight flickering in the darkness before we descend, shouts and the clash of weaponry rising up to meet us.
I send one of the snare’s torches flaring before I even land, the flames exploding, engulfing his arm. He immediately drops to the ground, rolling to try to put the fire out.
His shrieks are quickly drowned out by the roar of another snare diving toward me through the air, sword outstretched. I swing my own blade up, blocking his blow. He tries again, and I have to admit he’s good with his weapon—strong too. But his shadows are no match for mine.
Darkness pours down my steel to the point where our blades connect, engulfing the meager whisps of shadow dancing along his sword edge. He retreats, trying to shake the shadow from his body as it crawls up his torso and wraps around his head, blinding him until he loses all sense of direction.He dives toward the ground with no idea he’s heading the wrong way until he collides with the shore, bones crunching on impact.
With no other immediate attacks on the horizon, I can land at last, straightening up to address the snares clashing with my guards.
“You are trespassing in my domain!” I roar. “This is your only warning. Leave now or face execution.”
The smarter snares take one look at me and take flight, soaring over the mountains. A few stragglers remain, too angry or foolish to heed my warning. Quill throws me an appreciative grunt as I help his men and women finish most of them off until only one demon remains. By the time the snare is kneeling on the shore surrounded by his dead comrades, the rage seems to have gone out of him, and he holds his shaking hands up to me, eyes wide.
“Please, my lord, have mercy,” he says, a sob catching in his voice.
“But I’m notyourlord, am I?” I say, taking in his clothes and the roughness of his accent, which match those of his fellow thieves. “You’re Rancorite.”
The demon closes his mouth abruptly, too afraid to say anything more.
I tip the point of my sword toward his chest, letting a shadow curl around the blade menacingly. “Who’s your ringleader? You didn’t all just decide to take a trip to my domain at the same time. Who planned this?”
But his mouth stays tightly closed, even as tears bead at the corners of his eyes. He thinks he’s done for, and still he won’t talk.
I slide a look toward Quill, and he lifts an eyebrow. I believe we’re thinking the same thing. I could try to torture answers out of this fool, but I suspect I already know what he’ll say.
“Go,” I say, my voice a low snarl. “Crawl back to Rancor, and tell whoever sent you that the next thieves who darken my shores will wish they’d died as quickly as your friends did today.”
I lower my sword. The demon doesn’t hesitate to obey, scrambling to his feet and taking off into the air without another word.
“Someone make sure he crosses the border,” I say as I turn and clap Quillon the shoulder. “Well done. This is precisely the kind of incursion I was hoping the patrol would catch.”
“You’re welcome, my lord,” he murmurs, inclining his gray head respectfully before issuing a concise order to one of his guards to tail the snare.
Quill has never been a man of many words, which I like about him. My chamberlain, on the other hand…
Viz is still there waiting for us in the courtyard when we return.
“Don’t tell me you hung around to get the details of that promotion?” I joke, sheathing my sword. “I’ll need some time to think about it, Viz.”
He rolls his eyes, then holds up the piece of parchment in his hand, pencil poised.
