by Emma Fenton
“Don’t be so sensitive,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “You really must learn to appreciate the brilliance of a good scheme, even if it is against you. Besides, I doubt that he would have succeeded regardless of whether you’d suspected him or not. Don’t forget that you do not like Izan. Nobody can force you to marry him.”
“You underestimate him and the Council.” She sighed heavily as she leaned back against one of the Elder Scholar’s bookcases. “Even if they are not aware of his plot to kill me and take power, they still support him because he is the king they want. And the Council has a way of inconveniencing me at the worst possible moments.”
Peryn smirked. “But you are Ria Ramadani, last of her line, champion in battle, practitioner of dark forces, and cheater of demons. I defy any mortal to ensnare you in their trap.”
“I have been trapped before,” she admitted quietly. No more, she told herself. She would not let the Council control her. Izan would not succeed with his plans. But she could not sit idle if she wanted to ensure her safety. That much was clear. “What are we going to do about Izan?”
Peryn raised a single brow. “We? You’re on your own for this one, your majesty. I’ve already fulfilled my end of the deal.”
Ria gritted her teeth. It wasn’t his problem to fix. But it would be helpful to have a demon on her side, even if he was insistent on being a pain in the ass.
“Weren’t you just complaining about not having anything to do?” she asked with faux sweetness.
He stepped into her personal space. “And how will you make it worth my time if I do help, darling? I’m not stupid enough to fall for your vague promises again.” He reached out and brushed his knuckles along the side of her throat. The warm tingle of his magic leeched from his fingers to swirl underneath her skin. “And I just don’t think you really have anything I want.”
He was just pushing her for the hell of it. Teasing. She could see it in his eyes. This was just another part of his game. He’ll be sorry he asked me to play, she thought with a grin.
“Oh, I think you have a vested interest in helping me,” she said, watching in satisfaction as the demon before her narrowed his gaze. “What do you think would happen to our bond if I were to die?”
His eyes widened, mouth hardening. “I can think of two possible outcomes, neither of which would be pleasant for either of us.”
She leaned in, lips curved dangerously. “Go on.”
“Having made a deal with a demon, you would theoretically go to one of the hells where you’d receive some punishment or other for all of eternity. Being bound to you, I would be forced to follow you there,” Peryn said through gritted teeth. “As I am currently out of the Hell Court’s favor, I would be punished for returning to the realm uninvited.”
Ria’s eyes sparked with interest. “Out of the Hell Court’s favor? What does that mean?”
What she really wanted to ask was what had he done to fall out of favor, but she doubted Peryn would be forthcoming. Already he seemed tense, the topic entirely unwelcome, and his tightly controlled anger now reminded her of the night she denied him his request for the souls. She wasn’t willing to risk exposing herself to his ire again if she could avoid it.
“I’ve been banished from my home realm.” Peryn’s lip curled for a moment. He turned his attention back to Ria, much more serious. “But what I think is infinitely more likely is that my banishment would encompass you through the bond, and therefore we’d both be stuck in a vast, empty limbo for the rest of time with nothing but each other for company.”
That sounded...grim. Neither option was particularly appealing. Ria was looking forward to death even less now than she had before. On a positive note, Peryn clearly felt the same way, which meant that he would probably be more agreeable to helping her eliminate the threat that the Council and Izan posed.
“In either case, we’d be trapped in such a manner that I could never fulfill my end of the deal and we would stay bound indefinitely,” Ria said. “Which means that it is in your best interest to help me stay alive for the foreseeable future. And that means helping me find a solution to the Izan issue.”
The intensity of his stare didn’t lessen, but there was a new glint in his dark eyes that Ria could not quite define. “Always so clever, Ria.”
“Thank you?” She still wasn’t comfortable with how often a literal demon approved of her. Honor is for people who can afford it, she reminded herself. And that isn’t me.
“I suppose you’re against killing Izan.” Peryn let out a disgruntled, almost-whiny sigh.
“I can’t just kill everyone I don’t like,” Ria said. “I’m running a kingdom, and I need my people’s respect. Killing Izan will cause more problems than it will solve.”
“It would be easy to make it look like an accident.”
Ria paused. She had no love for Izan. His absence would be a blessing more than anything. But could she really be a part of two murders in the span of one week? Especially when she had nothing but suspicion to go on? And as Jaya’s death had already proven, simply killing Izan wouldn’t give her the sense of fulfillment she wanted.
“I want to take him down with a trial,” she said. “I want to prove that he plans to commit treason. I want to make an example out of him, not just bury him in the shadows.”
The demon started pacing, dragging his hand through his dark hair yet again. Ria was amazed by how it never looked the slightest bit in disarray despite the way he tugged on the strands. By all accounts, it should have looked like a bird’s nest by now, but it just didn’t. It was unfair, really. “We’ll need a distraction, then, to buy you time to build a case against him.”
“And soon,” Ria said. “The Council is going to send out invitations to the suitors for them to come court me in person at the palace. It’s standard protocol. No doubt they’ll shove Izan at me then, too.”
Peryn halted mid-step, eyes alight. His smile was like a jagged crack in a cliff face: sharp and just shy of terrifying. Unease boiled in Ria’s stomach. She still didn’t know Peryn all that well—despite her rather effective manipulations against him—but she knew enough to be nervous.
“I’ve got it.” He spun towards her. “Oh, it’s perfect.”
“Okay,” Ria said somewhat hesitantly. “What is this perfect plan of yours?”
He opened his mouth but paused before sliding into a lazy grin. “I think I’ll let it be a surprise.”
“Peryn, no,” Ria said, eyes wide. “You have to tell me.”
He stepped back towards the darkest corner where Ria’s candlelight wouldn’t reach. She knew what he was going to do only a split second before he did it.
“Don’t worry,” he said, voice low and mischievous. “You’re going to love it.”
“No.” Ria very much doubted that she would appreciate his idea of a surprise, but she could not get the words out fast enough.
He was already gone, fading into the darkness without a trace.
Chapter Ten
Ria had not seen or heard from Peryn for nearly two weeks and her nerves were only climbing. There was little she could do about the matter. Somehow, the demon always seemed to find her with ease, but trying to find him was proving impossible. She couldn’t exactly go shouting his name around the palace. Asking anyone if they’d seen a beautiful man lurking in the shadows was out of the question.
She had busied herself with the budget reports and analyzing the patterns in imports and exports. There were dozens of poorly-written documents to go through, but she’d done it. There were places where costs could be cut or redistributed in a way that would allow her to lower taxes, which was comforting, and though she did not have the full report on the state of the vaults—despite nagging Vili about three times already—she felt fairly confident that the country wasn’t destitute at the very least. And with her newly acquired understanding of Helhath’s trade trends, Ria could estimate the flow of new goods into the economy and adjust for ever-shifting prices. It was,
all in all, a solid accomplishment.
And yet none of her satisfaction at getting a grip on her country’s economy was enough to overpower the dread she felt. Duke Keffleton was due to arrive any day now, with Prince Feodor not far behind. She hadn’t ever gotten around to picking out a third suitor, but that was just as well. Once everyone arrived, Ria would be playing full-time hostess, and that would be exhausting. Already she was subjected to Izan’s company more than usual. It was occasionally a struggle not to just out the man’s treasonous plot, but Ria knew she had to be careful. Despite the conclusion she and Peryn had come to that night in the Elder Scholar’s study, they didn’t have the proof to back it up. It was nothing more than speculation.
Not that she doubted it for a moment but getting solid proof that she was right would make her more comfortable in pursuing justice. Peryn might have been okay with just doling out punishment whenever he saw fit regardless of evidence—or the lack thereof—but Ria was not.
The door to her chambers opened and Sofi hurried in, a faint blush across her dark cheeks. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, slightly out of breath.
“Sofi?” Ria asked. Hopefully nothing disastrous had happened, but the not-knowing was sending Ria into a small panic. If Peryn’s caused a catastrophe…
“We must get you dressed,” Sofi said, ushering Ria from the spot at her desk towards her dresser.
“I am dressed,” the queen protested mildly. What was wrong with the pale blue gown? It was simpler than most of what the other noblewoman wore, but Ria was not as taken with fashion trends as many of the other women. Not that she couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the gaudy, glitzy gowns. In fact, sometimes she envied them. But at the end of the day, Ria preferred something more practical, and no matter how beautiful gemstones may look on a neckline, they were heavy. Her shoulder, even now that it was mostly healed up, ached under any significant weight.
Sofi huffed impatiently. “This will not do. You want to make a good impression, don’t you?”
“Duke Keffleton is here, I take it?” she asked, not bothering to fake interest.
“Two gentlemen, actually,” Sofi squealed. “I do not know their names. One is scruffy and bit drab, in my opinion. Of course, it doesn’t matter so long as he’s wealthy.”
“And not an intolerable ass,” Ria muttered. If Sofi heard the comment, she ignored it.
“But the second one.” Sofi trailed off with a dreamy sigh. “How he’s not married yet, I just don’t understand.”
Ria zoned out for the rest of Sofi’s speech of admiration for the man she’d only caught a glimpse of. It didn’t matter much to Ria if her suitors were the most beautiful men she’d ever seen or if they had entire palaces made of gold or if they commanded thousands. Mikhael had been handsome, and wealthy, and powerful, but he’d also been a cold-hearted, self-centered prick, and she hadn’t found that out until three years into their engagement. Now she felt like she’d never really known him at all.
Sofi tied Ria into a dark purple gown that was made of velvet rather than sea-silk. It was a gorgeous dress, Ria conceded, and not nearly as limiting as some of her others. Besides, she wanted the Council to believe that she was invested in this husband hunting business. Wearing this dress would show she was putting in the effort to impress. On the down side, it meant that she would have to be even more careful in fielding the flirtations from both of her suitors. She couldn’t have them getting too invested too quickly, or else her plan to draw out the process for as long as possible would fail.
Once she was cinched into the dress, Ria left Sofi and made her way down to the main entrance hall. Just as Sofi had said, there were two figures standing with their backs to her as they conversed with the Council while servants bustled in and out of the palace carrying large trunks. Just how long do they plan on staying? She turned her attention back to the two gentlemen as she descended the staircase.
As Sofi had described, the one man looked a bit rough around the edges. His clothes, while clearly of a good quality, were loose and fit more like a dressing gown than actual clothing. Scraggly had been a good descriptor for the man’s hair. It was brown, unkempt, and long enough to brush his shoulders. He had a thick beard that made it impossible for Ria to estimate how old he was, although she suspected he was at least in his mid-forties.
Her eyes slid over to the other man who was tall, dressed sharp in black silk, and heart-stoppingly familiar. He turned his head in her direction just enough for her to catch his wink, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Peryn.
If the whole Council and the man she suspected was Robney Keffleton weren’t standing right there, she might have throttled the demon, consequences be damned. He ignored her for a fortnight, sending her into a slight panic over what he might do, only to show up with Duke Keffleton as what? A rival suitor?
“Ah, your majesty, you’re here,” Vili announced much too loudly. “Good. Good. Come meet Duke Robney Keffleton and, ah, Lord Peryn Hollbrook.”
Duke Keffleton bowed at the waist. “Your majesty, I am honored by your invitation.”
Ria nearly sighed in relief. The man’s Helish was passably good, so at least she did not have to converse in her stilted Morunan. “As I am honored by your presence.”
Reluctantly she turned towards Peryn, a tight smile on her face. Her eyebrow twitched slightly, dark eyes just shy of glaring at him. She hoped she was conveying something along the lines of: This was your plan? Really? As per usual, Peryn was unaffected. He bowed and swiftly took Ria’s hand, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. Her skin tingled under his touch. Stupid magic.
“A pleasure, your majesty,” he murmured. His mouth twitched as if fighting back a smile. “It is my greatest privilege to be at your service.”
She struggled to maintain a polite façade. The Council and Duke Keffleton were watching, after all. It wasn’t even that she couldn’t see the merits of the demon’s plan. By posing as a suitor, he not only created a cover identity that would explain his presence in the palace and association with Ria, but also put him in the optimal position to interfere with Izan’s plans. But what if the Council looks too closely? Or if Duke Keffleton or Prince Feodor can prove Lord Hollbrook isn’t a real noble? Will Peryn’s alias hold up under scrutiny? There was a growing pressure in her head and she resisted the urge to massage her temples.
“I look forward to better making your acquaintance, Lord Hollbrook,” Ria said. “But for now, I’ll let you gentlemen settle in. I’m sure you must be tired after travelling such a long way.”
“Indeed,” Duke Keffleton huffed. “The seas were miserable—unseasonable storms the whole way and waves taller than your palace, your majesty. On more than one occasion, I thought for sure we would be overturned. It is only through luck and the skill of my crew that we made it to Helhath alive.”
“How terrifying,” Ria said, a slight frown gracing her features. “I am glad of your safe arrival. In my home, you shall suffer no unnecessary discomforts.”
Ria tuned out Duke Keffleton as he rambled his thanks when Izan strode into the room. He paused upon seeing the two gentlemen, as if sizing them up. If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she would have missed the flash of anger in his eyes as he approached the Council. He probably didn’t anticipate that they would even consider other suitors, Ria thought. But they have to at least pretend to be unbiased. Still, Izan probably doesn’t like the idea of competition.
“I must excuse myself,” Ria said, giving both Peryn and Duke Keffleton her best apologetic smile. “There are some urgent matters to take care of. I look forward to seeing you both at dinner.”
She turned on her heel and all but fled the entrance hall. It was hard for her to act unaffected around Izan. Fear and anger reigned when he was near, and neither were helpful in convincing him that she had no idea of his plot. Combined with her shock at seeing Peryn—and the realization that they would have to behave civilly to each other in publi
c—Ria found that she was too overwhelmed to pretend that she wasn’t exhausted. Maybe a little nap would help, she thought, imagining the feel of her soft bed.
It was not meant to be. As she passed the crest tapestry on the third floor, an old, bony hand reached out and snatched her around the arm. Acting on instinct, she nearly punched the fiend who had a hold on her only to realize at the last second that it was the Elder Scholar.
“Master Ameer,” Ria hissed, half-embarrassed at almost attacking him and a little put out that he’d startled her so. “What are you doing?”
“We need to talk, Ria,” he said, giving her that unnerving, knowing look that made her feel like all of her secrets were laid bare in front of him. Which, knowing that he could see potential futures, they probably were.
“I’m sorry, but I’m really quite tired—”
“You’ve been avoiding me,” the Elder Scholar said, cutting her off. “You can’t put this off any longer.”
He gently pulled her into the passage way and led her to his private study. Ria didn’t bother trying to fight it or make any more excuses. He was right, anyway. This conversation was a long time coming. She couldn’t keep running forever.
“Tea?” he asked once they entered the room.
“Please.” She had a feeling she was going to need something to soothe her nerves. A good cup of tea could fix almost everything. Almost.
The Elder Scholar was silent as he poured them each a cup, already brewed, but still steaming. He was planning this, Ria thought with dry amusement. Or maybe he saw that this would happen and decided to be prepared.
“Much has happened since we last spoke,” he said, calmly sipping from his cup. Ria wanted to laugh. That was the understatement of the century. “I believe, at that time, you asked for my aid in finding a way to poison your sister during the fight.”
Over the edge of his teacup, he gave her another knowing—but not necessarily disappointed—look.
“I take it you were not successful in that endeavor.”
