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“It’s all right,” she says, wiping a tear from her face. “We just have so much to offer. We’re not stupid, and we have amazing creativity. We might not be as strong as demons or other creatures, but,” she pauses, “we’re not indispensable, invisible.”
I hang my head, thinking of her statement. She’s right. I have never given humans a chance. I always looked at them as measly objects, only to be used and discarded. When we first took them from the ground continent, the king made them sound like they were no different than the ur’gin that the volvath breed.
“I should go see if the guards need anything,” I say, shoving down the lump in my throat.
She turns to look at me skeptically. “What about me?” she asks fearfully.
“I’ll grab an extra guard to man your door,” I say firmly.
“Can I trust the guards?” she asks.
“Yes, I’ll get one I know personally,” I say, standing and walking out of the room.
I shut the door behind me and lean against it. I exhale deeply and ask the guards to stand by her door. Initially, they’re unwilling, but a few coins seem to change their minds.
I walk out of the tower and head to the local tavern. The blurring vision and discarded thoughts that come after a few ales is the only thing that seems appealing.
I enter and see the usual drunkards raising their tankards and cheering. I shake my head and walk to the back corner of the room, folding my hands on the table and resting my head on it.
“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here, handsome.”
I look up and see Haistra, a long-time friend. I chuckle. “Haistra, good to see you.”
“You all right, love?” she asks as she places a drink in front of me.
I purse my lips. “Long day.”
“Ah,” she says, nudging the ale toward me. “This one’s on me.”
I nod silently, and she walks away, back to her group of adoring demons. Matrons are highly coveted and often followed by their chosen acolyte. I take a sip and feel the cool bubbles travel down my throat, easing my conflicting thoughts.
A man sits next to me at my table, surprising me. There are numerous empty tables surrounding us.
Upon further examination, I realize this man is a high-ranking demon, judging by the tattoos lining his shoulders. He stares at me and raises his tankard before taking a sip, exhaling, and staring at the room.
“I have an offer for you,” he says in a deep voice.
I lift my head and look at him in my haze. “Offer?”
“I work for Lord Vanquest,” he states, not making eye contact with me. “You guard the new heir, yes?” He turns to meet my gaze.
I throw my hand up slowly and place it back on the table. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he says, turning his attention back to the women. “You know her value to this court, I assume.”
“Yes,” I say skeptically, my head bobbing slightly. I center it and regain my composure, leaning toward him on the table. “What do you want with her?”
“I want to make a deal,” the demon states. “Lord Vanquest would be,” he pauses gravely, “highly appreciative if he couldmeether.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t understand why demons use code words anymore. This lord doesn’t want tomeether; he wants to court or kill her.
“Yeah,” I say, sipping my beer. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
The demon chuckles. “Don’t you ever get,” he motions to the bar, “tired of this life? The life of a commoner, a nobody?”
His question piques my interest. I stare at him intently. “Get to the point,” I demand.
“We would like to offer you a place in our noble house, a chance to start anew, to …” he pauses, ticking his claws together, “become who you aretrulymeant to be,” he lifts a claw to me. “Only if we can send an usher toleadthe girl to us.”
