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I nod, then point my chin forward.
“We can’t leave the King waiting,” I muttered. “Not a good first impression.”
Varzig began to laugh, and it healed me. The sickness in my gut disappears, and I stand up straight, slipping my hand into the demons in proud triumph.
“Spoken like a true gilak,” he said slyly.
The island of Galmoleth is opulent, but it’s also hot and dusty. As we walked, I noticed a shimmering sea and pointed it out to Varzig. It looks like sheen marble, the shade of elf weaponry.
“Is there any way to swim in that?” I asked absent-mindedly.
Varzig raised his eyebrows as he looked down at me, and we continued onward.
“Why? Are you thinking of escaping already?”
He jests, but I don’t want to make him doubtful. I pulled his hand close and fluttered it with a kiss, my lips moistened from the sensation of his unique scales.
“No, no, I was just curious,” I said frantically.
We stopped walking, and without a word, Varzig picked me up like I’m a child’s toy. He throws me over his shoulder, and I’m thrilled by his power and willingness to play.
“Well, you have no choice anyway,” he mocks. “You are mine, whether you like it or not.”
I laugh as my darling begins to run across the plains, heading straight for a tall, black tower in the distance. His hands on me are gentle and firm at the same time. Nothing wretched shall ever happen to me again. I know it.
We arrived at the King’s palace, and Varzig removed me from his shoulder. He goes quiet, and a look of pure glee stretches across his face like a child about to be rewarded.
“It’s not like he can’t take a joke,” Varzig says, removing the enchanted book from his loincloth. “But he’s not a fan of his soldiers … going off on their own, and, you know, falling in love.”
I feel my entire face bloom with red warmth, and I bite my lip. He raised his eyebrows and placed a finger on his lip, and I smiled like a fool.
“What did I just say?” He asked, the look of playfulness unwavering.
I untuck my lip from my teeth and give him a teasing bow.
“I’m at your every whim, my lord,” I said, voice deepening and frisky.
He brings a full hand to my mouth and pretends to conceal it. Then I nibble on him, and he begins to growl.
“You are lucky that I find everything you do attractive,” he says, snapping his fangs at me.
Our flirting comes to a halt when several of the King’s guards emerge from the palace, and we stand at attention. Varzig's face fades into the same look I noticed when he first met, a being devoid of passion beyond that of a thirst for death.
“The King summons you, Varzig, and your accompanying mate,” one of the demons, who looks like an extra small version of Varzig, announces.
He shifted the book into his left hand, then took me by the right. His grip is tight, not desperate, but powerful in its affection.
We go up the black marble staircase and enter the throne room. It looks like nothing I have ever seen before in my life, though I have heard of such places both in stories and by word of mouth.
The ceiling is high and mighty, paintings from a distant lore decorate the walls, while a massive seat adorned with the skulls of what I assume were the King’s enemies run up the arms and back of the incredible throne. My heart picks up its pace at the sight of it, but Varzig squeezes me, his reassurance setting me straight.
Doors behind us slam shut, and the one, who I assume is the demon King, arrives, wearing a long, majestic, purple and black cape and a ghastly smile shining through the room like a torch set alight.
“My, my Varzig, how far you have come!”
He bellows in the big hall, his gritty tone echoing through it. Despite his age causing him to bend over like a hunchback, he’s far more animated than I imagined he would be.
Varzig stepped in front of me, holding the book out with two hands and then taking a bow by going to one knee.
