RE: Monarch

The room darkened, candles and torches struggling against the nearly imperceptible billow of black smoke. Ozra's face was inscrutable. Ancient, even. Utterly devoid of the casual sort of friendliness that had possessed him mere moments ago. It occurred to me, even as I sensed the growing tension and took a step forward, that this was much closer to the way he'd appeared when I'd first approached him, in the hells.

As I'd suspected, the previous cheery, almost warm affectation was little more than a persona he'd adopted, tailoring himself to someone he expected to be more susceptible to affability and charm.

From the way Maya bristled, and she pressed in closer beside my sister, she'd noticed, too.

Between them, a small compartment extended out of the board, muddy burgundy silk housing an additional queen and several other spare pieces. The significance of this only registered belatedly, when I reviewed what Ozra had claimed. Before the uniform shift to the panthanian rule set, there'd be no need for additional pieces, nor the compartment to house them.

"Did you know from the start?" Ozra asked, his voice dead, entirely impassive. But there was a blade hidden within it.

If this all went sideways and the arch-fiend lashed out, Maya was quick on her feet. She'd yank Annette out of the way of any immediate danger. But I needed to be ready to put myself in between them if it came to that. I'd told myself that Ozra wouldn't do anything to jeopardize our existing deal, but I'd never seen him lose. In my limited experience, the older a divine or demonic being was, the worse they handled being bested. And if Annette misread the room? Mocked him?

It could go bad fast.

My little sister shook her head, completely focused on reversing the pieces turn by turn, reviewing the game. "When you gave me the choice between white and red, I turned the board. There was something loose. A jostle, or click. Nothing telling, but I was advised to question everything. So I noted it and moved on. Then I noticed how archaic your play-style was, and the narrative formed, along with more questions."

Annette reversed a series of aggressive captures, the side of her mouth quirking upward. "I quite enjoyed this exchange. The sudden upsurge of violence and offensive action after endless positioning. It surprised me. I took you as a defensive player to this point. Was it only because you were playing red?"

Ozra frowned a little, crossed to her side of the board, not even seeming to notice as Maya and I tensed at his proximity. "I prefer not to press an attack until mid-game. Once I've gotten a better feel for my opponent's weaknesses." He flicked a white cavalry piece's head hard enough to make it wobble, but not topple completely. "Even if they are constantly taunting me with a hanging piece, over and over again."

"Oh, it wasn't hanging," Annette corrected, reversing the board to an earlier position, demonstrating how if Ozra took the cavalry piece, the capturing piece would be claimed in a complex series of moves, resulting in a neutral outcome.

"Ah-hah." He leaned up triumphantly, staring at the possible outcome, slightly puzzled. "Nasty. So it was bait. But even if I'd taken it, it wouldn't have helped you much."

"That's the nature of Illox's gambit," Annette agreed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, seeming to either not notice or care how close he was. "A method of testing your opponent's willingness to weaken their overall board position for the appearance of an early capture. You avoided it so studiously I figured you were aware of the tactic, maybe even played with him. He died..." She paused to think. "Five hundred years ago? So it was possible."

Ozra snorted. "He's not one of ours. Somehow I missed that one."

"He wasn't well known. Still. Avoiding it out of instinct alone is something else entirely." Annette whistled, then paused, hesitantly. "May I... continue to review the game? I've never played its like, and I wish to commit it to memory."

Ozra seemed ready to dismiss that immediately, but something on the board caught his interest. "Do as you please."

My sister continued working her way through the game, making comments here and there. When I'd watched her do this with students, the children of nobles who came to the castle to learn the game at their parent's behest, she tended to be direct, almost brutal at times, bored with reviewing the same sort of mistakes over and over. With Ozra, however, she was earnest. Excited to review what they had created together. She marveled at his intellect and praised his cunning.

Slowly, Ozra softened.

After reversing all the way to the beginning, she rearranged the pieces and took a few off the board, placing them back to a position that occurred shortly after endgame. "I showed you my throat, here, opening myself up to attack. If you'd capitalized on the opportunity, you would have won. But you did not. Why?"

"Because this," Ozra slid a priest into the center of Annette's formation, forking several pieces. "Would have been considered a foolish move during the era of Koss where foot soldiers could not be promoted." R₳Νọ𝖇ĘṦ

"Of course." Annette realized, sucking in a breath. "I thought you were going easy on me, because the bet was low-stakes."

"I would not taunt a master with a dull blade," Ozra rolled his eyes.

"Still, the commitment to simply ignore it was... extraordinary. Truly."

Behind them, still pen-in-hand at the desk, Loria looked less than pleased with the courteous turn of events. Her seemingly mindless visage had slipped, revealing the cunning beneath, and her pen had stilled. It could have been an act like before, but I doubted it. And unless I missed my guess, she was about to do whatever she could to return Ozra's attention to the greater matter at hand.

Feeling that the immediate danger had passed, I stepped away from the table and strode towards her, hands clasped behind my back. The demon had already begun to stand and awkwardly paused, torn between interfering with what was derailing the negotiation and addressing her earlier curiosity. Eventually she relented, rising to her feet but staying motionless as I approached.

"Can I help you, Prince of Whitefall?" She asked, eyebrow raising as I walked beyond the desk and leaned against it on her side, casually crossing my legs.

I smiled, letting practiced charm and charisma take over. "Call me Cairn. Our forces are aligned, no need to stand on formality. Don't you agree, Loria?" I rolled the R, letting the A play across my tongue the same way a person might if they were pronouncing her name in demonic.

She studied me, unimpressed. "What is it you want?"

"Insight." I leaned towards her, blatantly taking her in before my eyes flicked to the desk. "But I'll settle for a quick study of the transcript."

"Ah. Well. Ordinarily, the answer would be no. But it's not as if there's any headway being made." Loria cast an annoyed glance towards the stalled negotiation, growing increasingly irate until she picked up the sheaf of papers and thumped them onto my lap.

"Careful."

"Apologies. Sometimes I forget the fragility of humans."

"No, you don't." The statement was flat, devoid of accusation, inviting interest. And I felt her eyes on me as I licked my thumb and paged through the transcript at a glacial rate. Like any demon with years under her belt, she was patient. But she was also proud. And if she intended to rise and interfere with the negotiation, she'd need to stand up and go around me, showing deference by default.

So I sat there, like a fly in her ointment, until she spoke, curiosity breaking through behind her disinterested expression. "What sort of insights are you looking for?"

I licked my thumb again and continued to leaf through pages, absorbing none of the text despite the show of deep study. "The mind of a sadist is a prescient topic, as of late. I've known many who rely on pain as a punitive tool. A trite method to inflict passivity on those likely to stray while serving as a warning to others who hold rebellion in their hearts. I've used that utility myself, on more than one occasion."

"Have you really?" The demoness asked, her voice a mocking purr.

"I'm not proud of it. But, yes." I carried on, ignoring the onslaught of horrible memories her tone dredged from the depths of my mind. "What's a mystery to me—and likely many—are those who dole out pain that serves no purpose. Pain that may even work contrary to their own goals."

It'd taken great losses, setbacks I was still reeling from, but Thoth's weaknesses were beginning to show. She had a greater plan. That much was certain. Stabilizing the ley lines, building a great alliance to upend the cataclysm that threatened Ragnarok. But the longer I considered it, the more obvious it became that the way she tormented me served no purpose. If I eventually presented some sort of existential threat—unlikely, considering the waste of space I’d amounted to in my first life—she'd had ample opportunity to kill me. Instead, she'd effectively warned me by showing up at the carriage, and set in motion a chain of events that created more resistance, not less.

The killing of Lillian only served to reinforce that impression.

It felt petty. Sloppy. Not unlike a vice.

Loria rested her chin on her palm, mulling the question coyly. "You've known many such monsters?"

"Not many, no. Only two, including present company. So you understand why I'm so keen to seek enlightenment on the matter."

"And this has nothing to do with distracting me from interfering with that pointless farce?" She raised an eyebrow, inclining her head towards the negotiation table.

I smiled, caught out, a little chagrinned. "An efficient course of action accomplishes multiple goals in tandem."

"As I thought." Loria's chair squeaked as the legs of her secretarial chair scraped against the wooden floor and she rose, preparing to call out to Ozra.

I needed to interrupt, keep her focus on me.

"Why do you prefer the strap?" I asked suddenly, feeling a small surge of victory as the words died in her throat and she slowly turned back to me.

"What's wrong with a good piece of leather?" Loria challenged, almost as if she expected criticism.

"It's difficult to put into words." I thought about it, dug deep. "You obviously excel at what you do. Your efforts secured a high station in your legion. Ozra trusts you, and he isn't slow to allocate resources. It's common knowledge that demons hold a bounty of exquisite weapons and magical artifacts in their hoards, so it's not as if your options are limited. So I can only posit that it is your preference, and subsequently wonder... why?"

While I'd spoken, Loria grew increasingly perplexed, gaze drawn to my jaw and throat. "Tilt your head, Princeling."

I did as she asked, forcing the small smile to remain on my lips even as her icy fingers prodded at my neck, like a physician testing for growth. Eventually, she seemed to ascertain some truth and dropped her arm.

"Not one of mine. I've never touched you," she finally announced, puzzled at the conclusion.

I suppressed a shudder. "You placed that mockery of a crown on my head."

After a moment, she shook her head. "That is not the same. As far as I'm aware, this is our first meeting. Despite that, you seem to know me very well. Methods, preferences. Fear."

"Really? I think I'm holding up well," I joked.

"When I gave a command, you did not ask why. Regardless of what I am, you complied easily, gracefully. And you did not flinch. The response of a spectator would naturally be to pull away. Instead, you reacted with the exact response I instill in those I touch." Loria studied me, her expression turning dark. "It would be distressing to many in my Legion, if it was discovered the memories of a high-ranking demon were altered through treachery."

Beads of sweat formed on my forehead. "It's nothing so untoward."

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

The way I snapped to attention was involuntary, as physiological as breathing. Loria's eyes widened in recognition, a smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. "Perhaps it wasn't me. But you are no mere observer. You've been powerless, tormented and reformed by the careful ministrations of another. A master of their craft. And that is why you seek answers."

"Perhaps." I hedged.

Loria gave the negotiation table one last long look before she shrugged. "Very well, Princeling. It's not as if they're accomplishing anything, and I so rarely have a chance to converse on this topic." She fixed me with an even look. "You're correct that in terms of methods, I prefer simplicity. This is nothing I haven't heard from the multitude of demons with similar interests. Adoration of artifacts that flay skin from bones, exultation of wands that putrefy organs. Few of them have any interest in mastering these tools, simply flitting from one to another, deriving simple pleasure and demonic energy from uninspired torment."

"But not you." I gave her a coy smile. "An artist amongst amateurs."

Loria snorted. "You even flatter in the manner I prefer. But, yes." She snapped her fingers, and a length of thick leather dangled across her palm. I distracted myself from the immediate sense of panic by observing the strap itself, presenting her with nothing more than a distant sense of curiosity. It was textured, I remembered that much. But I'd missed many details in the terror. Including a set of fading demonic runes that ran the outside of its convex curve.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Property.

The ends had been sliced off, one far more worn than the other, as if it'd been bent inward, time and time again.

"It's a chattel collar," I realized.

"All ancient history, now, but I wasn't born into the asmodial legion," Loria nodded, reminiscing. "I'm a transplant. A bounty of war adopted into their ranks. And unsurprisingly, the assimilation process is neither quick, nor kind." She clenched the collar tightly. "For years, I felt this leather against my throat. Was directed and punished by it. And as much as I hated it, at some point I grew to appreciate the simplicity."

There was a growing sense of disappointment. "So it's as straightforward as displacing the pain you experienced onto others as a method of reclaiming control."

"Not so fast, Princeling," Loria chided, amused. "There was something to that, in the early days. But if that was all there was to it, I would have grown tired of the practice centuries ago. No." She chuckled, mired in an almost saccharine nostalgia. "Say we were regular acquaintances who stumbled into each other at the market, and I asked how you were faring. How would you answer?"

I ignored the ridiculousness of the idea of idly running into a demon on the streets of Whitefall and played along. "Well enough."

"Yet your position at the castle is tenuous at best. Your relationship with your mother has deteriorated considerably, your sisters's struggle to find their place in the Kingdom based in no small part due to the upheaval you caused, your father's volatility is a constant source of anxiety, and the death of someone dear to you was recently uncovered." Loria hammered the points home, calm and precise. The asmodials as a whole had been paying far closer attention than I'd realized. "Yet, your answer was 'well enough.' Does this not make you a liar?"

"It makes me considerate," I answered, resisting the urge to grind my teeth. "The example specified regular acquaintances. If you were a close friend, I might choose to confide in you."

"Choose?" She raised an eyebrow. "So even if we were dear to each other, you might not tell me at all?"

"It depends."

"On?"

I blew out air. "Countless variables. Do I regularly seek your counsel? Will unburdening my troubles accomplish anything, or will it only inspire worry? Have I already decided on a course of action or am I conflicted?"

"The fact remains. Even if I was dear to you and asked after your circumstances genuinely. There is a possibility you would lie."

"Yes," I said, tired of belaboring the point.

Loria laughed. The sound was oddly joyful, considering what she was. “It is merely an observation, not a judgment. In this small area demons and mortals are the same. We all lie as easily as we breathe. Something approaching truth is only offered if an ever-growing list of conditions and dependencies are met. And even when we speak that truth after it's filtered through pride and biased perceptions, it rarely resembles the real thing.”

I shook my head. "If that's the criteria, I'm not sure it's possible for anyone to be truthful."

"For the longest time, I believed the same." Her scarlet eyes glimmered as she gripped the strap tightly in her fist. "But it's always there, Princeling. Deep beneath the surface. Buried. Pain, like the strap, is little more than a tool. It lets you strip away their hope, dignity, dreams. Their lies. Cut away layer after layer. Eventually given enough time and patience, you'll uncover what you seek. That is the miracle of pain. It allows a glimpse of pure truth. And once you learn to recognize it, it is more exhilarating and fulfilling than any treasure attainable in my realm, or yours."

It took a monumental amount of effort to divorce myself from the horror of the sentiment and apply what Loria was describing to Thoth in abstract.

Once I had, I found there were parts that fit. Disturbingly well. Thoth only tried to kill me in the Sanctum because I'd bruised her pride and started creating more problems than she could justify. Every encounter before that was filled with chest beating and half-measures. It was like she was trying to draw something out of me, or someone.

The person I'd become when we were looping together, before she'd removed me from it.

It didn't matter that the person from that time was gone. That there was no hope of actually becoming them. If the plot to eliminate the arch-fiend at sea failed, perhaps there was something to that I could use to reinvigorate Thoth's interest, and make her less likely to kill me outright. Use the vice against her.

When I had time, I needed to delve into my soul again and try to uncover another memory. I already had a better sense from the last in terms of who I was back then. With more context, it'd be easier to play the part.

And if I played it well enough, there was a real chance that'd give me an opening.

"Thank you for the lesson," I said, so preoccupied with potential future strategies that I only belatedly noticed the way the demon seemed unsettled, a sense of growing annoyance in her expression. "What is it?"

"I just find it disappointing. Purely from a professional standpoint." Loria crossed her legs, working her jaw in frustration. "That whoever unmade you simply walked away and left you in pieces. There's obviously potential. From our encounter today, anyone can glean that you do not shrink from shadows, even on the darkest night. Not out of ignorance, like so many fools. Simply because you have seen everything the darkness offers and chose to accept it, rather than despair."

"They were otherwise occupied," I managed a smile.

"Then the task of remaking yourself falls to you." Loria sighed deeply. "A heavy burden. But one that offers limitless potential." She chewed her lip, showing a flash of a pointed incisor. "I could, perhaps, assist you in this—"

"—Not for all the treasure and information in the world," I said immediately.

"So quick." Loria barked a laugh, sudden break in eloquence forming a harsh contrast. "If I was not so confident in my legion's ability to root out magical treachery, I might be led to wonder if you were, somehow, one of mine."

"I can accept that darkness is a part of life. That terrible things happen to all people, good or bad. And that there are fates worse than death. I'll engage with it when necessary. When my hand is forced. But I am not the fool who goes searching for suffering, simply because it exists."

"Then I wish you well in your future endeavors. And now, I will tend mine." Loria snapped the ledger shut, rising to her feet and shuffling around the opposite side of the desk from me, intent on approaching Ozra.

Whatever was happening at the negotiation table, Maya wasn't interjecting much. It was going well. I needed to buy a little more time, even if it was a risk.

"Though I cannot accept your assistance in the previous matter," I started, making a point of not pursuing her, my gaze fixed to the wall. "Do you really find her actions so distasteful? Leaving me unmade."

"Yes," Loria snapped, patience finally growing thin.

"More than your colleagues with their skin-flaying artifacts?"

"It is exactly because she does not need to go to such ridiculous lengths and plies her trade with exceptional talent that I find it 'distasteful.'" Loria overflowed with vehemence, demonic hatred on full display. "Heinous is more appropriate. Like watching a stone worker chisel a masterpiece, only to leave it overturned in the muddy scrapyard once finished. It is not only disdain for the statue. But for the art itself."

I removed a speck of dust from beneath one of my nails. "So, it would not be unthinkable to say someone like you might assist in the downfall of such a person."

Loria stilled, opportunism lighting behind her eyes. "Are you trying to cut a deal with me, human?"

"No deals." I stood from the desk and approached her, resisting the urge to look towards the negotiation table. "No promises, and no guarantees. With everything going on behind the scenes, there's a genuine possibility I'll never encounter her again. But if I do find myself face-to-face with the arch-mage... well... I'd love to do so with the benefits of your unique insights."

It was always a risk, lying to a demon. They were perceptive. Cunning. I'd avoided it as much as possible until now. But what helped—or at least, I hoped it would—was the fact that this was not entirely a lie. While it was originally Loria's torture that had redefined my relationship with physical pain and eventually purged my fear of it, Thoth's grand-stage cruelty had carved through my psyche in an entirely different way. What Loria perceived as the work of one master was, in reality, the work of two. That was why she found the results of what was done to me so compelling.

The flare of excitement from the reveal that my tormentor was the arch-mage slowly disappeared, and Loria shook her head. "I cannot take direct action beyond my legion's directive. Not without a deal in place."

I sneered, letting my anger leak through. "Don't misunderstand. I'm not asking for direct interference. Thoth will not meet her end at the hands of anyone other than me. I don't want you to hurt her or even speak to her directly. But if you were able to observe her with your unique perspective. Provide insights that would help me break her... well. That would serve both our purposes, would it not?"

Loria smiled widely, her fangs on full display. "You want to unmake her the same way she unmade you."

"I'll settle for death. But if the opportunity for justice presents itself?" I paused, feeling as if I was on the edge of something without fully understanding what it was, before finally dismissing the notion as pointless. "Dying is a paltry recompense for the strife she has caused, the people she's hurt. Needlessly."

"That does not sound like justice, human." Loria studied me for a long moment, then shrugged. She flicked her wrist at the waist, and a small whirling object flitted through the air. I caught it between my fingers just before it passed me by. It was a dark piece of thick parchment, inscribed with scarlet geometric shapes immediately recognizable as a demonic sigil. "But there's a reason there isn't a word for the concept in our language. The motivation matters little to me. Burn that when you are near her and I will elucidate any cracks in her armor. If only for the pleasure of seeing her fall."

"We've... come to an accord," Maya announced.

/////

I shuffled back to my side as Loria rejoined Ozra. Ironically, it was only the supporting members of the negotiation that were less than pleased with the current exchange, while Ozra and Annette seemed to be having the time of their lives.

"—Wouldn't that be wasted material?" Annette mused, examining the positions on the Koss board slowly.

"Seems that way, doesn't it?" Ozra grinned. "But if your opponent plays the rest of the game out following the Ardonacci variation—"

"—which would be the natural choice, given the out-of-place cavalry—"

He played the sequence in a whirlwind, maneuvering pieces from both sides, ending in three aggressive captures for the red pieces that took the initial loss. "Then you recoup that material, and more, here, here, and here."

Annette, my typically stoic little sister, clapped emphatically, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. "And spring a beautiful, elegant trap. Marvelous."

I walked behind them, sparing a quick glance for the ever-changing board as I slid in beside Maya. "They've been like this the whole time?"

"No. They've been alternating between chess and negotiations." Maya replied, seemingly more annoyed than I'd ever seen her. "And the princess has made some concessions I don't agree with."

"Like?"

"Nothing that poses an immediate problem now. Whether they do later, is yet to be seen. Were you flirting with a demon?" Maya asked indifferently, the source of her irritation suddenly apparent.

"Uh—" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Loria raise her palm and rotate it side to side. "When one is negotiating, it is only proper to speak the language of the party being approached. In this case, allure and—"

"—Seduction." Maya finished, refusing to make eye-contact. "Don't bother explaining the usefulness of charm to a trained diplomat. I'm well aware of the benefits."

My cheeks burned. "We were just talking."

"No. You were doing what you always do when you're trying to make yourself enticing."

I scoffed. "That being?"

She made a vague gesture. "When you place yourself slightly in their space, cross your arms, and smolder. It's very effective."

"Alright. Fine." My eyes narrowed. "And what do you mean, you're well aware of the benefits?"

"I'm pleasing to the eye. You think your father simply invited me into his war tent on the merits of my story and position? No. Naturally, I charmed him." Maya said matter-of-factly.

"Great." I wrinkled my nose, banishing all the unpleasant thoughts that conjured. "We've established that we possess the same tools and are equally capable of using them. Therefore, no one is at fault and there's no reason for us to be upset with each other."

"Indeed," she said flatly.

"There's only one thing we disagree on."

"That being?" Maya looked towards me for the first time, her light eyes a silent challenge.

I crossed my arms. "You're so much more than simply pleasing to the eye."

"Oh." Her violet cheeks tinged dark blue, and she looked away. The silence that followed was so long, I thought that was the end of it until she finally spoke again. "My mind has been clouded as of late."

"Can I help?"

She hesitated. "That... line of inquiry we began the other night?"

My mind went to our discussion in our rooms. The baring of souls over the wine we shared. How honest and vulnerable she was, and while there was a definite temptation to take things further, her openness had ultimately stayed my hand. Because, above all else, I didn't want to hurt her.

"Does it upset you?" I asked, apprehensively.

"No. The opposite. But it is at least partially to blame for this fog that plagues me, because we did not finish it." She turned to me meaningfully. "So, as soon as possible. I'd like to see it through."

Oh.

I smiled a bit. "There's a lot to unpack. We'd need to set aside an appropriate amount of time. Make sure no detail is missed."

"At least a day," Maya agreed, breathing out.

"Barring disaster, tomorrow, perhaps?"

She jolted slightly, showing the slightest hint of nerves. "That is... rather sudden."

"You did say 'as soon as possible.' After we deal with the imminent threat, I was already planning to steal you away. Show some overdue appreciation before the next inevitable problem crops up. If that's how you'd like to spend that time, I'm happy to oblige. But if it's better to wait—"

"No!" Maya exclaimed a little too loudly, clenched a fist, and released it. "No." She repeated quietly. "I want to finish our... conversation... so badly it aches. Sometimes it's all I can think about. My dreams are tormenting. Little things irritate me that typically would not even register. All of which create obstacles that make it more difficult to properly play my role. But as much as it kills me to say, we should not make plans for tomorrow. The chance we'll need to deal with some aftermath from today is simply too likely."

I suppressed the twinge of disappointment. She was right, of course. The wild spontaneity I'd lived by in my first life was mostly gone, harshly reined in, even when it tempted me most. But something about Maya brought out that side of me, when little else did.

Maya steepled her hands, studying her fingertips. "Maybe... the day after, we can travel somewhere less than a day's ride from the capital and return by nightfall?"

"Kholis perhaps?" I suggested immediately, taking to the idea.

She started. "It doesn't hold too many bad memories?"

"Some." I admitted, recalling the harrowing loop that ended with the death of the rangers, and the close encounter with Thoth. But most of that occurred outside the city limits. The interior I remembered much more kindly. Introducing her to salted treats from the market. Our first dance, frantic and unromantic as it was. "But it's quiet, and they're accustomed to visitors from the city. Plus, they like you. You rescued their current Duke from the clutches of an evil revenant. It should be friendlier than most human settlements nearby."

"You'll have to tell the Duke," Maya observed.

"If I do that, he'll want to come along."

"And he'll be furious if he discovers we revisited his home without him." She chuckled. "You forget, I took care of Lucius long before you stumbled into Barion's cabin. As a boy, he was both intuitive and discreet, and from what I've heard, he hasn't changed. He'll grant us our time."

I blew air into my cheeks, then shook my head. "Between the travel and the escort, that doesn't work for me."

"Oh." Maya said, immediately disappointed.

"I mean the two of you have a close bond. It'd be unreasonable to demand that the Duke host us and blow him off for the duration. You'll need to catch up, and that could take hours. No. We'll need at least two additional days to ensure we appease the duke, and thoroughly cover the topic of discussion."

Maya put a hand to her mouth, covering a smile. "There's wisdom in that. I'll need to make some preparations for a longer absence, but they shouldn't take long. So. Three days in Kholis, then."

I nodded.

Across the negotiation table, an increasingly displeased Loria leaned over to whisper something in Ozra's ear, finally interrupting the overlong Koss session.

Ozra shrugged, offering Annette a chagrined smile as he turned back to her. "As delightful as this has been, we've drifted off-topic. Shall we review the terms of our arrangement before you sign, so my associate and yours can stop glaring daggers into the backs of our heads?"

"I'm ready," Annette agreed.

With little fanfare, Ozra clapped his hands, fishing a monocle from his chest pocket as the contract appeared beneath a fading cloud of smoke, along with a pen and quill. I scanned the terms.

And my stomach dropped.

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