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“Fuck?” Carnon suggested with a wicked grin.
“Make love,” I corrected, blushing at him, “in public like that?”
“Demons are not hung up on sex,” he replied with a shrug, sliding into a worn leather booth and gesturing to the space across from him. “Most prefer privacy, but sometimes the moment gets the better of us.”
I felt myself blush even deeper, sliding into the booth as far away from him as I could get. “And have you ever done that?” I asked, gesturing toward an extremely exuberant male and female demon who must be almost done by now.
Carnon raised a sardonic brow at me. “No,” he said. “But I’d make an exception for you, Elara.”
“Good Goddess,” I groaned, trying to banish the image of what I had just seen from my mind, and of Carnon doing those things to me in a public setting. “Could you just stop calling me anything?”
He chuckled darkly, as if he knew exactly what I was imagining. “Very well,” he said. “Would you like to start with a question, or tell me what you learned today?”
A demon with red horns and skin came to take our order, and I waited to reply until Carnon had asked for two mugs of ale and some food I had never heard of before.
When we were alone again, and the enthusiastic couple had finally stopped moaning for an audience, I replied, “A question.”
“Of course,” he said with a wry smile. “Ask away.”
I’d had some time to consider which questions would be the most valuable to ask on our walk over, and I started with the one I was most curious about. “What happened to the previous king?”
Carnon raised a brow, clearly surprised by this. “No one is exactly sure,” he replied, leaning forward on his elbows. “He simply disappeared one day into the Bloodwood, but he’s certainly dead.”
“Do follow ups count against my five questions?” I asked, wanting to make sure he didn’t trick me into wasting any.
Carnon grinned, his sharpened canines glinting in the dim tavern light. “You get one follow up.”
I hummed, pursing my lips as I thought of the best way to get the most information. “How did you know that you were the king? How can you be sure the last king died?” I asked.
“That’s two questions,” Carnon pointed out with a faint smile. “But both have the same answer. I felt his power pass to me,” he said, gazing at me steadily. “One moment I was just Carnon, and the next I was flooded with powers I had no idea how to use. Rather like someone else I know.” He gave me a pointed look, and I scowled.
“Except I’m no Demon King,” I pointed out, looking around at the red demon, who had returned with two mugs and a steaming platter of something that smelled divine.
“No,” Carnon said, looking at me thoughtfully and taking one of the steaming delicacies off the platter, blowing on it gently. “You are something else.”
“What did you call these again?” I asked, examining the platter between us. I tried a sip of the drink in my mug, which was a bready sort of ale. Not as nice as bloodberry wine, but hopefully not quite as intoxicating.
“Fried clams,” Carnon said, dipping another golden clam in a white sauce flecked with green. “They’re shipped in each day from the Whispering Sea. We have a trade agreement with the Siren Kingdom. Here.”
He held the clam with sauce out to me, and I leaned forward tentatively, biting into it. Warm, crunchy, briny goodness filled my mouth, and I groaned. The sauce was tangy and sweet, and Carnon laughed loudly.
“The noises you make when you eat are sinful, Red,” he said, making me scowl at him through a mouthful of clam. “Tell me what you learned today.”
I swallowed, explaining what I had read in the books Carnon had assigned me. I hadn’t read them all, but I had skimmed most of them. I had read about how demon magic is fueled by mortal dreams in more detail, although it was clear that even the most ancient demon scholars didn’t really understand how it worked. I also read a primer on magic usage for young demons, which discussed the nature of intent in the use of demon magic.
“I also read about your Horned God,” I said through another mouthful of clam. “He doesn’t seem all that different from the Triple Goddess.”
“He’s not,” Carnon said, sipping his ale. “He is her equal and complement. The horns represent the duality of life and death, good and evil, light and dark, similar to her three faces. It’s why they are consorts.”
“Why do either of them need a consort?” I asked, furrowing my brows at this assessment of the Goddess. “Are they not powerful enough on their own?”
Carnon raised a brow at me again. “It has nothing to do withneed, Red,” he said, voice rumbling between us in a way that made my brain stray to dangerous places. His serpentine gaze was intense, and his forked tongue flicked over his lips in a way that should have disgusted me, but definitely had the opposite effect. “Or at least, notthatkind of need. They are each other’s perfect match in every way, the balance between life and death, light and darkness. They cannot help butwantto be together.”
“Like mates?” I asked, sipping my own ale in an attempt to disguise the cause of my blush. I’d rather Carnon think I was drunk than thinking impure thoughts about his tongue.
He smirked like he knew what I was thinking anyway. “Exactly like mates,” he replied, leaning forward a little as he held my gaze. “They are as inseparable as the sun and moon. Their powers work in tandem, and neither can survive without the other. Demon matings are considered to be a reflection of their union.”
I shivered a little, the reverent tone of his voice seeming to stroke that illicit magic inside me, making the dark and bright snakes of power raise their heads in interest.
