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“A jinx,” the man repeated softly, wonder in his eyes.
“What is name?” Salas reached to grab at the intricate trimming of the man’s robes and studied it.
“My name is Emperor Eldron, dear one, at your service. And what may I call you?”
“Tirit!” Salas announced, dropping Emperor Eldron’s robes and taking up a stick to trace his name in the dirt, proud to show off his spelling skill.
When he was done, he was dismayed by the man’s frowning at the letters he’d made. “My dear, that says ‘Salas,’ not ‘Tirit,’” he said gently.
“Oh,” Salas said, realizing that he had been tricked by the fae once more when they had taught him the southern alphabet. They must have purposely taught him faulty characters.
He had been told once that ‘Tirit’ had been the name of his goatherd-father, who had died many years ago. Salas had decided to take his name.
Now, Salas thought about it. “Is Salas a good name?” he asked curiously.
“I believe it suits you,” Eldron said, quickly picking up on Salas’ intentions.
“Then that is my name.” Salas nodded confidently, looking at the name he had spelt in the dirt, proud to have made something that ‘suited him.’
Somewhat unexpectedly, the man seemed to know exactly what Salas was, and of his power, and asked that Salas grant him a wish. Salas had not spoken to anyone in such a long time, he had offered Emperor Eldron more wishes, just to listen to the man talk.
Yet when the time came to offer the snake, they both seemed to hesitate. Finally, though, Eldron took the snake and held it for several solid moments before Salas nodded for him to make his wishes.
The wishes required great magic.
“I want you to curse the country to the North, Diagor, with a deadly spell,” the Emperor said with utter finality. “That is my first wish.”
Salas nodded, feeling the magic thrum inside of him, working out the ways in which this wish would be granted. “Second wish?”
“For my second wish…” The Emperor seemed to ponder this. “My second wish is vengeance. If I ever die, I want you to kill the one who betrayed me.”
Salas felt a darkness slither into him at this wish. He had never, obviously, killed anyone before, and wondered if he could because this man demanded it.
Yet the magic slid into him, gripping him, holding him to the wish.
“My last wish is this,” Emperor Eldron said, “You will come to serve me in my kingdom, become my pleasure slave, and surpass the skills of all my other birds.”
Salas blinked back the tears that swelled in his eyes, turning away and wiping his eyes so that the King could not see.
Salas still had one wish to grant. One wish that the Emperor had left behind, in order for the magic inside of him to be satisfied.
I want you to kill the one who betrayed me.
There was no way around it.
Salas had to go to the southern kingdom, his home, as he knew it, and kill Jovack, in order to release himself from the deadly hold his magic had on him.
Chapter Seventeen
Salas allowed himself to be guided by the King, up a set of stairs through a back entrance, a lonely tower attached to the same wing as their rooms, as they slipped into the castle, naked.
Once dressed in bed clothes within the comfort of the bedroom Salas had come to know so well, the King sent a guard to spread word of their return, wellness, and retirement for the evening.
Salas barely understood the exchange, so entangled was he in the web of his thoughts, getting more caught up the more he struggled with them. An iciness had enveloped him as he carefully considered what to do next, yet he knew there was only one solution. One way this could end.
It took him a long moment to realize that the King had spoken to him. He blinked, staring up at the man who now stood before him.
“I will not harm you again,” Jareth said gently, tilting Salas’ chin up, searching his eyes.
