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“It would please me to no end,” he quips.
We both laugh, and he slides a hand over to rest on my knee. Even after all this time, his touch still feels like fire, igniting the excitement at the depths of my loins.
He looks at me with all eight eyes, becoming stoic.
“To be honest with you, I’ve always wanted to be someone who is … a part of the show rather than observing it, you know?”
I nod, listening closely.
“I’ve been on the sidelines for so long, and that’s where I thought I would always be. But because of the coin finding you, with me finding you, and falling head over heels for each other, we have been placed in a very unique position.”
I lean forward on the table, my breasts resting softly on the varnished cherry wood.
“Go on.”
“Well,” he begins, his expression switching to that of cocky confidence. “Back where you’re from, you have educational opportunities, right? Tutors for the elves, at least? We have something similar down here, but because of your abilities and status, it can be fast-tracked.”
I’m intrigued and lean forward even more on the table. Sys’s eyes catch my breasts pressing majestically against the wood, and my heart flutters at the idea of his excitement.
“You have me,” I whisper.
He leans forward, his smirk getting wider, somehow, more and more handsome.
“We can both go and get fast-tracked if that is something you would desire,” he says firmly. “I feel like you could have so much power in that arena. Get asshole lords like Egretz out of the realm.”
I watch him, feigning as I place down my mug, his hand on my leg wandering up to where the crest of my pubic bone begins.
“Hmm,” I say, feeling his fingers finding my mound and holding in a gasp. “I think it would please me greatly.”
He growls, then shoves the table aside to fall to his knees. I gasp as he pushes my legs apart, then looks up at me, hungry and eager to please.
“I am at your mercy, Your Highness.”
We check the kitchen off our list tonight once Sys eats me out, bringing me to orgasm so easily that it’s unbelievable.
We immediately prepare to work in the king’s court. I am not usually one to seek out privileged positions, but in this case, I feel that I could actually do some good. Once it is known I am the person with the coin, it becomes easy to build our path, and within a few months, we start to take on most of the high-stakes cases.
In between all of this, I find my footing once more with spell casting. Systorak, who has used his own powers since he was born, shows me the ropes, helping me make space in my body and mind for my legacy, which had lain dormant for years.
With a great amount of practice, I learned to summon my magic spells at will. I begin to use it casually, stirring our cups of tea and cleaning up the garden, all to the amusement of Sys and to work it as a muscle. I no longer repress my emotions, so I’m finding it easier to bring out my magic as a means of enjoyment as well as a means of protection.
It doesn't take very long for Systorak and me, as a pair, to become notorious around the king’s court. I’m becoming more confident, my true self rising like a flower to the sun, bending for no one. My presence is a force, as is Systorak’s, who endlessly stands by my side and aids me in the relentless prosecution of those who do harm.
Because of this, our reputation builds, and once two people become famous enough for not only a skill but a wealthy inheritance and legacy, they are on everyone’s radar. It was what Systorak had warned me about while reassuring me of his loyalty and devotion.
“You don’t have to keep saying that,” I whisper to him in bed one night after a particularly rowdy case.
He shakes his head, stern and solemn.
“I know I don’t, but I want to,” he replies. “Unfortunately, once you become one with demons and are bold enough to put yourself out there, you are always going to put yourself at risk. I want you to know that.”
Systorak takes my hand, the one with the coin, and kisses it right on the metal. The skin around the circular form has flaked off and healed, my body having permanently adjusted to the new addition. He looks at it closely the way he often does, brooding and somewhat regretful.
I take him by the chin, raising it to my eyes gently.
“Don’t do that,” I murmur.
“Do what?”
