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We may be following through on the King’s orders by sleeping together, but I don’t want her to think that’s the only reason things are unfolding the way that they are between us. Tonight is my chance to woo her, and although I’m feeling lost, I don’t want to squander the opportunity.
The carriage lurches to a halt outside of the King’s botanical gardens, a favorite mingling spot for the most prestigious of demons, and no doubt where I’ll find Moraan.
Moraan was Drannatha’s best friend from the time we were children, and even after Drannatha died, Moraan made it a point to stay close to me and the girls. All three of the triplets absolutely adore their Auntie M.
Moraan and I are good friends, although I’ve sought out her company and advice far less often since Drannatha succumbed to the Fading. Seeing her reminds me too much of my twin and brings up painful memories that are easier left in the past, but given my current situation, I can think of no one better to turn to for advice.
The botanical gardens are alive with the sounds of running water and birdsong, the space enchanted by the most talented of soz’garoths to be a beacon of power and luxury in constant bloom. Socialites move through the flora, matrons scattered amongst them in search of their newest prey.
I move deeper into the gardens, doing my best to look as unapproachable as possible. I have no interest in the mindless chatter of social climbers, and although I catch the eyes of some of the matrons, I keep my head down, plowing toward the sitting area.
I spot Moraan seated at a black, ornate table that seems to be elegantly carved from a single block of obsidian, her gold dress catching the light and matching the surrounding flowers so precisely that she almost looks as if she were a part of the garden herself.
Swaths of potential suitors surround Moraan, all vying for her attention as she giggles and fans herself, her long, raven black hair gleaming in the afternoon sun as she basks in their attention. Their chatter falls silent as I approach, the different males sizing me up as competition.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” I say, not meaning a word of it. Moraan turns her violet eyes toward me, her face lighting up with pleasure.
“Kha’zeth!” she exclaims, standing to wrap me in a warm embrace, much to the chagrin of several of her surrounding suitors. I return her embrace awkwardly, far too aware of how territorial demon males can become over potential mates.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, pulling away to better see me. “Is something wrong? Are the girls okay?”
“The girls are fine,” I reassure her. “I had something I wanted to speak with you about. Privately.” Moraan doesn’t bother to hide her curiosity, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she turns back to her suitors.
“If you’ll excuse me, gentleman,” she says with a cloying sweetness. They all murmur their terse agreement, looking at her and shifting on their feet, but make no move to walk away.
“Now,” she snaps at them, all sweetness in her voice gone. The males flee at her tone, wise enough to know better than to incur a matron’s wrath. Moraan turns back to me, all smiles again, and motions for me to sit.
“So who is she?” Moraan asks, cutting right to the chase. A part of me is offended that she finds me so transparent, and I feign ignorance.
“Who?”
Moraan tisks, waving her hand in the air as if to dismiss my query.
“Come now, Kha’zeth. You don’t seek me out for months except to invite me to come to see the girls, and then all of a sudden, you brave the gardens to ‘speak privately’ with me about something,” she says, an eyebrow raised as she repeats my words.
“The only reason you’d do that is if there was a woman involved. So, who is she?” she asks again. Matrons are notoriously impatient, Moraan even more so than the rest, so while I detest the fact that she’s seen right through me, I decide it’s in my best interests not to play any games.
“Her name is Natalie,” I mumble. Moraan motions for me to continue, interest written all over her face. “She’s… different.”
“What do you mean ‘different’?”
“She’s a human.”
Moraan blinks in shock, silence falling between us for a moment before she bursts out laughing. I growl, heat rising in my face.
“What’s so funny?” I snap at her, losing my temper.
“Oh Kha’zeth, a human? Only you would finally fall to your knees before a silly mortal girl,” she says between laughs, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. Moraan sighs as if recovering, before her violet eyes sober slightly. “Is this part of Asmodeous’ new orders?”
Only Moraan dares to drop the King’s title in public, her rank as one of his favorite consorts protecting her from any of the more grievous consequences for doing so. Although I doubt he’d like it very much outside of the bedroom.
I nod in lieu of a response, not interested in any more of her teasing.
“If it’s just part of your orders, then what’s the big fuss about?” She asks, realization dawning on her before I can respond.
“Oh,” she says quietly as she searches my face, “Oh.”
I nod again, not trusting myself to try and put any of what I’m feeling into words.
