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“And you are an oppressor because of yours.”
“Serving justice doesn’t make me an oppressor!” I caught myself before I blurted out further defensive justification. The asshole was baiting me. I stood and folded my arms. “Let me clarify. Xhan said, ‘Treacherous. Traitor. Vile oppressor.’ What did it mean?”
His gaze narrowed on me. “Tell me how Mzatal came to be on Earth.”
Aha! It wasn’t Rhyzkahl’s weakness from the lightning strike that would dredge answers from him. It was his craving for information from beyond the confines of his prison. “I’ll answer that one. Then you answer mine.”
“On my honor.”
I snorted. I’d been taught that demons held honor above all else, but Rhyzkahl and company had clearly demonstrated how much steaming bullshit that was. “You’ll probably just lie, but I’m in a good mood.” I shrugged. “I’ll play along.”
“Agreed.”
This would be interesting. “An Earthgate from the first age is open. Mzatal came through it.”
“An Earthgate? Where?” He staggered to his feet. “How?”
“Sorry, dude. One question. One answer.” I spread my hands. “Your turn. Who is the vile oppressor?”
He ground his teeth and gave a grunt of frustration. “The one who held Xhan.”
“Do you mean today? Mzatal? Or you, before?”
“One question. One answer.”
“One clear answer,” I said.
“It is clear to me. Clarity for you was not specified in the agreement.”
“Fine.” I clearly showed him my middle finger. “The gate is about thirty miles from here”—I pointed in a vague southerly direction—“that way.”
He went lord-still. “Crystals?”
“Uh huh. Big and shiny. I gave you where and what. That’s two answers.” He couldn’t do anything with the information, so there was no harm in throwing him a few crumbs—extra incentive for him to answer my questions. “Now, tell me clearly, using a name I know, who your blade meant by ‘vile oppressor’.”
“Mzatal.”
“You owe me another one.”
“I owe you nothing. You volunteered a second answer.” He leaned close. “But I will tell you what I have told you before. Your lover’s hands are not clean. Do you abide slavery?”
Cold rage filled my veins. “You’re trying to implicate Mzatal in slavery? You who had your Earth flunkies kidnap innocent women to use as sex-slave currency for demonic lords?”
He gave me a smug look. “You know nothing of it.”
I swayed, dizzy.
• • •
Sunlight streams through the library window, but it cannot compete with his radiance.
Breath catching, I step closer. “I know my heart, my lord Rhyzkahl.”
His hand rests on the frame of my portrait. I seem so young, captured on canvas by Lord Szerain. Could it truly have been only a year past?
“Elinor, it is my will that you abide here.”
“Do you always get what you want?”
