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This time when I fall asleep, I don’t dream.
It’s already dawn when I wake. Sunlight pours in through the moth-bitten curtains. I leap out of bed and yank them aside. The sky is heavy and overcast, but there’s no denying it’s already late morning.
It’s my first day of pursuing Arluin and his necromancers, and I’ve already slept in. I’m not sure whether it’s because of the sleeping potion or my exhausted body, but regardless I must hurry. At this rate, Arluin will reach Gerazad long before we do.
I tear off my nightgown, replace it with my magi robes, and shove my feet into my boots. When I’m changed, I hurry over to Zephyr and nudge him awake. I mustn’t be very gentle, since the faerie dragon opens an eye and growls. Either that, or he’s even more exhausted than me.
“We need to get going,” I say.
He still doesn’t stir, so I’m forced to pick him up. With my free hand, I grab my enchanted satchel and hook it over my shoulder. I almost forget the key lying on the mantelpiece and sigh as I shut the door.
Zephyr yawns and wriggles out of my arms as we’re going down the stairs, startling me and almost causing me to trip. I glare at him, but he’s drifting on ahead and doesn’t notice.
I find the Void Prince sitting in the far corner of the tavern. Though it’s morning, the sun doesn’t reach this part, leaving him cast in shadows. He appears to have conjured himself a cloak, black like the rest of his attire, and the hood is pulled up over his head, covering his silver hair and pointed ears. A mug of ale sits in front of him.
“And here I thought you wanted to leave at dawn,” Natharius says as I slide onto the chair opposite him.
Before he left last night, we agreed to leave Lenris Port at dawn. Of course, I shouldn’t have expected him to come and wake me up. I roll my shoulders back. I don’t intend to tell him I took a sleeping potion last night—nor the reason I did.
“And here I thought you didn’t like mortal food or drink,” I say, pointing to his ale mug.
The demon lifts it by its wooden handle and tilts it toward me. The mug is mostly full. “I never said I didn’t like mortal food or drink. Only that I do not require it.”
“I didn’t take you for being an ale drinker.”
“I’m not. And this is easily the worst ale I’ve drunk in a millennium.”
“Then why order it?”
He jabs his finger toward Darius, the greedy barkeep. “I was told to order a drink or leave.”
“The mighty Void Prince of Pride allowed himself to be bullied by a barkeep?” I say, leaning over the table and lowering my voice.
His lip curls. “Next time, I’ll threaten to feed him to my Void Hounds. Would that be more to your liking?”
I have no retort and can only sit down. The Void Prince smiles triumphantly.
“How did you pay for your drink, anyway?” I ask to interrupt his gloating. “I doubt they’d accept demon currency, whatever that is. Unless you happen to use gold?”
“Gold?” he scoffs. “What use do we demons have for gold?”
“Then what do you use?”
“We pay with blood.”
“Blood?” I exclaim.
“Power resides in blood. Did the magi not teach you that?”
“What I mean is it isn’t normal to trade with blood. Though I can’t say I’m at all surprised. You demons probably drink it.”
The Void Prince frowns. “I prefer wine.”
I don’t know whether to be relieved or disgusted. The fact he knows he prefers wine means he’s tried drinking blood at least once. I wonder if it came from a demon or a mortal. Maybe the blood came from a mage like me.
“And if you were wondering,” Natharius continues, “I didn’t pay for my ale with my blood.”
“Then how did you pay for it?”
